There were no veggies. No local farmer’s market bustling with eager customers, filling their baskets with locally grown fresh tomatoes and cucumbers and guavas and limes. The dream we carried, clung to, fought weather and waves to reach, was a façade. A mirage across the desert of Bahamian grocery stores lined with processed foods and overripe American produce. To be fair, it would have been a first if it had existed. But that dream kept our spirits up on those blustery days aboard…
There was no karaoke either, for us. Hatchet Bay did provide the safest shelter a boater could ask for though, and Rinaldo served up some brutally strong rum drinks.
He also boasted of their laundry facilities, so I decided to lug our waterproof bag over one windy afternoon. Couldn’t find the man himself but presumably his wife, sat behind the counter in their closet sized convenience store, baby on breast, offered to show me to the laundry. We meandered through doors and gates, kids of various ages playing, guys erecting a canopy, broken cars, old dusty dogs, half cured cement platforms, loose garbage, toys, broken tools, chickens and more until we arrived at an open door. She held out an inviting arm and explained that there were no coins involved but that I could just go ahead and then let her know later how many washes I’d done. I barely heard her though, as I was too amazed at the room. It was basically an outhouse to the family home, all the Christmas decorations and copious amounts of junk overflowing giant Tupperware containers, boxes, or simply strewn along the shelves that you could barely squeeze by, to wedge yourself in by the two filthy washing machines and the dryer. Well, better get to it then. Trying to touch nothing, I loaded up the machine and off we went for a walk through town.
Nearly four hours later, nine dollars for the pleasure, through about 4 x
drying cycles, cursing, rainy squalls, thirst and hunger and in the company of
our new companions, the yards’ resident dusty scabby dogs, our one load of
laundry was washed and finally dry. Well almost dry but I wasn’t waiting
another minute. Sigh...
And then we woke up one morning to not a breath of wind. Easter Monday and no promise of hot cross buns around here, so it was time to leave the safe harbour and head off, toward those elusive veggies! Our exit through the treacherous cut that we’d barely maneuvered a few days earlier, was a calm clean cruise. We made our way out the flat blue waters into the Eleuthera Sound. This is the way it should be! The lee of an island. Protected from wind and waves, a smooth sail south along the coast in the glorious sunshine. A blissful morning.
We reached James Cistern, the sleepy little village rumoured to host a farmer’s market on weekdays. We’d have to wait til the morning. We anchored on a rock and reanchored, and finally settled. Soaked up another gorgeous Bahamas sunset.
The next morning came the bad news.
Alleycat headed to shore to investigate. No place to dock the dinghies! Just rocky shoreline. The government jetty had no planks… we’d have to wade in to get to those veggies! So be it. We hobbled over rocks, knee deep, our cooler bags in hand and headed in. There were two food stores. Neither had heard of a veggie market. Our faces fell. Our hopes dashed. Our dreams shattered. We ignored the processed junk lining the aisles and passed up the rotting three avocados. We scooped up the few bits of two-week-old-imported salvageable vegetables packed in the fridge and moved on. You have to shrug off the punches and look ahead.
Got back to the boat to find my newly acquired broccoli full of black mold. Frozen veggies it is then!
Our reward for positivity in the face of adversity was pretty much a heavenly scene for the next day.
And then there's the promise of a meet up with awesome sailing friends we haven’t seen since they waved off the dock in Titusville months ago.
So tonight there will be partying, merriment, laughter, feasting. Friendship. And then we will find another adventure to pursue, absorb, appreciate. Governor’s Harbour, the old capitol of the Bahamas is just a short sail further south. And maybe, just maybe, we will find some veggies.
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