About the abyss: escaping by sea

4000 meters of ocean below, it hosts us, holds us above it’s deep indigo mystery. It is majestic, omnipotent.

4000 meters of deadly abyss, it would swallow us, carry us lifeless to it’s depths without a boat, without this floating mass of fiberglass and wood and metal we call home.

These are the random thoughts that capture my mind and soul as we are pulled along by rumbling motors and the breath of wind in our sails. It will take approximately 14 hours, out here in these deep ocean waters, to cover the 80 miles between Nassau and the Abacos islands.

It’s always a humbling experience, which is why whenever we arrive at a new destination after a day long sail, we sit quietly, usually with a whisky in the sunset, marveling, celebrating, appreciating our successful passage. 

It is literally a freedom one cannot feel on a day to day basis when we are surrounded by land and it’s inherent anchors – trees and buildings and people and society. It is none of those things. It has only sky above and ocean below. Seems a simple obvious, but on a day at sea it is profound.

If you choose, then there is music as well. And it is one of societies’ offerings that is at home on the sea. Music can put you at one with the universe. It can help you transcend the fiberglass vessel and all the things that could go wrong, and just how vulnerable you are. It carries you right out there into the freedom that is travelling by sea. 

So here I am, the sea surface is as calm as glass, while the sky wakes up for the day in the most magnificent way. Black gives way to muted purples, that give way to candy pinks and citrus orange as the sun peeks up into view. I am dancing like no one is watching – which thankfully no one is! I’m out in the cockpit at sunrise, with my music, my freedom, my bliss. 

A day ago, we awoke anchored in the middle of it all - Atlantis to one side, city bridges crawling with cars and massive tanker ships lined up on the other. 

Hemmed in to the west by the rotating monstrosities called cruise liners. 

We left our rocking boat, pushed around by all the boat wakes and headed to shore. We trudged through the sweltering wind-less, sidewalk-free perilous streets of Nassau, in search of groceries. Dust swirled and clung to our sweat as cars flew past. We held our breath in the litter covered few inches of grassy gutter that kept us from becoming casualties of fuel and metal.

We made our way through the artificially bright aisles of the big store, choosing overpriced produce and tempting ourselves with American offerings. All the while anticipating the hot, fast cab ride back to the jetty, followed by the transferring of bags into the dinghy, zipping across the wild Nassau Harbour, criss crossed by hundreds of tour boats, fishing boats, tankers etc., up into the boat, and ultimately the quest to find enough space to stuff it all. Sweat and dirt featured high yesterday. Car horns, sirens, industrial cranes, litter… all of that surrounded us. Held us in the fist of society.

Today we escaped. Snuck out before dawn, watched the decadent lights of Atlantis shrink into the distance as freedom took over and the day unfolded like a new life.  

Funny how I discovered that having no ground at all in sight, makes me feel more grounded than ever before.

 But today is another day. Another side of cruising life. We've met up with three other boats we last saw in Georgetown. Reunions. Adventures. We've arrived in the Abacos at Regatta time, so the parties begin... 

Mutton, rail meat, Georgetown Beat!

We are eating out of Styrofoam in a shack. It’s a green shack and we’re eating mutton.

It’s a slapdash shack in a makeshift row of candy coloured structures, plucked together over the course of a few days. Wires and cables snake the ground around us and an open faced fan with exposed blades, throws warm dusty air at us. We are lined up against the wall with our tiny plastic forks, futilely spooning rice. The sticky plastic table cloth hosts a number of hot sauces and luke warm cream based salad dressings despite the lack of salad on the menu. There are the usual Bahamian offerings of barbecue ribs and chicken and mutton with peas and rice and macaroni and cheese and plantain. It’s all finger-lickin’-good. And it all goes to the hips. There must be 50 makeshift bars offering rum punches, sky juice (a trendy local gloopy white concoction of gin, sweetened condensed milk and coconut milk), and the local beers – Sands and Kalik, on special.

Over our heads, the local banter reaches epic volumes. It’s a ‘cacophonous symphony’ of shouts and laughter, knee slaps and hollers.

On another level, the base from competing sound systems lifts the floorboards to the incessant beat. Rake n' scrape, the local music pumps out hits like 'All Da Meat', 'Roach on My Bread', 'Bush Mechanic', 'That Ain't No Mosquito Bite' and more...

It’s hot and our clay-dust flip flopped feet have carried us around the tiny town, which is abuzz for the week. It’s the 66^th Annual National Family Island Regatta in Georgetown. Big words for a set of boat races in the harbour. The wooden boats with their giant sails, have been made across the small islands of the Bahamas for generations. Communities across the nation have been preparing and perfecting their vessels and crew since last year’s race. The boat names and their colours are amazing. Barbarians, Confusion, Beerly Legal, I’ve Tried, Ruff Justice, New Slaughter, Termite… etc. all out there, sails puffed, ‘rail meat’ out on the boards, representing their islands!

And we are here, eating steamed mutton in a shack. We will head out to one of the many race viewing vantage points, once our bellies are full, to watch the spectacle unfold. To the untrained eye, it’s organized chaos. With a breathtaking turquoise backdrop.

In the evenings there will be marching bands and fashion shows; the finest and most bizarre come out and flaunt what their mama gave them. There are literally all shapes and sizes, dressed in every colour, material and style imaginable. And some unimaginable. 

There will be music pulsing from giant black speakers piled high, and the partying will continue literally until the sun comes up. Oh, and I’ll be part of that! Lying in bed, facing the music with my 33 decibel industrial grade ear plugs. Zzzzzz.

This is a big event for Georgetown and the ‘out islands’ as they’re called. And we are here. Loving every minute of it. And slurping our mutton bones gleefully.