Hello all. We’re trying to maintain our island chill, but are watching developments close as attitudes and anxiety can change quickly here in the Exumas.
Tom and I arrived Saturday the 14th to the iguana (Nekid squirrels according to Robert Earl) infested islands of Allen and Leaf. These small islands are picturesque, until the crowded, radio blaring, fast boats zoom over daily from Nassau, bringing tourists to see the iguanas in their “natural” habitat. The iguanas are a protected species, and it is illegal to feed or harass them, though we witnessed a bit of both of those going on.  The place reminds me a bit of Cinqua Terre, in Italy or Mont St Michel in France, or any extremely popular destination. If you want to really experience the peace, serenity and natural beauty of the place, you need to spend the night there.  It is only in the late afternoon, evening, and early morning that the special magic of the place is revealed; before the throngs of tourists descend brandishing their cameras.

We spent a lovely day on an adjacent smaller island away from the majority of tourists, in hopes of letting Robert Earl stretch his legs. We thought he could be trusted off leash, but the temptation to protect us from, and chase away the nekid squirrels was just too much for him. He rarely, if ever barks, but every time he’d see an iguana come out of the brush, expecting a free handout from from the human arrivals, Robert Earl would bark and strain to get after them.
All of a sudden, he actually broke free, and charged headlong into the extremely dense underbrush.  We had a few very scary moments while we called and called him.  He had completely disappeared into the brush, would not bark, and did not return immediately, as was his normal MO.
I learned the painful lesson during our previous Bahamas cruise to the out-islands, 2014-2015, after deciding to take a “short cut” up a hill on Black Point Settlement of Great Guana Cay. (Fully expecting comment here and personal testimony from Adam, Bob & Maryjane White ) The impenetrable, sharp, scratchy, sticky underbrush is completely disorienting once you’re caught up in it. Turning around and ducking under and stepping over trying to escape, makes you loose all sense of direction. The vegetation is too thick to comfortably step over, and too tall to see over the top. It’s extremely damning if you happen to also make contact with the poisonwood trees or long needle cactus, while trying to make your way out. After about 20 minutes, but seemingly an eternity, Tom spotted Robert Earl crouched down about 20 feet into the brush. He was frozen, afraid, and uncertain of how and where to try to move. With gentle coaxing, Tom finally got him to slowly creep his way to us in the clearing. Subsequently, he does not venture from the beach edge, and we keep his life jacket on and leash handy if we think he’ll be tempted.

We lifted anchor the next day, and pulled this mangled shredded remains of a camo jacket up with our anchor. We sincerely hope this jacket was not being worn at the time it went in the water, but had merely blown out of someone’s boat.

We arrived less than an hour later at Highbourne Cay.  This stunning island caters to the upscale yachts and cruisers who dock in their marina, or those seeking shelter in their exquisite island cottages. Transients are typically welcomed to come ashore and pay a day fee to walk the picturesque island trails. If you’re interested in learning about the history and slow development of this island we recommend the book  “Life on a Rock: A Bahamas Out-Island Experience by K.A. Albury.
The  arrival of the Covid-19 to the Bahamas, by just 1 person in Nassau having tested positive, has created anxiety in some areas, especially these out-islands, who depend heavily on the weekly Nassau supply ships to deliver food, and almost all necessary daily supplies.  If the supply ships aren’t able to make their regular rounds, the deprivation will be felt quickly.  Also these islands to do not have hospitals or access to health care. The book “Out Island Doctor”, by Evans Cottman is a terrific nonfiction account of the rural nature of the Abacos in the 1960’s , and truth be told; things haven’t really changed much as to the regularity and availability of doctors.

We went ashore on Highbourne to be greeted at the dock, and instructed to report to the resort store front porch, where we would be temperature screened. We passed our reading, and were allowed to go to the restaurant for lunch, but were informed that no day passes would be sold, as the island interior was now off limits to anyone other than the in-house guests. After lunch I bought excellent provisions from the island store, just in time, before the announcement of the islands management to stop all grocery sales to anyone. They said they have 40 island staff to feed, and had no assurance of when their next resupply ship would arrive.  We tried to keep our attention on the graceful swimming of a nurse shark as she glided along the shallows and entered the roped off, protected area of the swimming beach, paying no heed to the restrictions that sharks are forbidden to enter that particular area. Not finding any soft juicy pink toes to nibble on, she smoothly turned and made her way back out to the open area.

More disturbing than the now typical shark sightings, was the bombardment of media overload we received from 70+ inch TV tuned to CNN, blaring out the hyped news of the health, environmental, and economic catastrophic possibilities that are forecast for our entire planet, while the ticker tape flashed upward and then downward surges of the DOW. While cruising we try to stay abreast of what’s going on in the outside world, by electronically scanning the Post and Courier for a few minutes each morning. We have been somewhat isolated from the hysteria surrounding the virus.

To calm our nerves, I invented the perfect COVID-19 remedy. I call it The Highbourne. I invented it to try to restore our sense of calm and appreciation of current circumstances, and not give way to second guessing and radical plan changes to try to meet the expectations of the overwrought media providers.

🍹 The Highbourne  🍹

Place 2 large, or several small cubes of ice in a tall glass and add:

• 2 ounces of good coconut rum
• 1/2 ounce of Compari
• 1 ounce pineapple juice
• 1 ounce of mango juice
• fill glass to top with lime seltzer
• top with healthy squeeze of lemon
• Enjoy and repeat as necessary

Go sit on the back deck, take a long slow breath, and a big sip, while you look around at the scenery.

Tom has also invented a new “Doggy Bag”.

As most of you know, when we bought our precious Robert Earl, we expected him to top out in weight around 18-20lbs like his mother and father. Well he decided we needed more to love, and has matured into a fabulous 50 lbs. The design of our boat that provides us with a wonderful “back porch” is called a raised aft deck. Unfortunately for Robert Earl, that means he has to somehow maneuver, or be maneuvered,  up or down the 4 foot straight drop from the deck level down to the swim platform, when coming and going by dinghy.
To avoid getting scratched by panicky flailing puppy claws, Tom devised this system. First we put Robert Earl’s  life jacket, complete with secure back grab strap, on him. Then while still on the deck, and Tom down on the swim ladder, with dinghy tied up close,  I place Robert Earls back legs and hind quarters in this oversized canvas bag.
I slide the now contained pup, to the edge of the platform with the front side facing me. Tom grabs the canvas “doggie bag” while I hold the life jacket back strap and we lower Robert Earl over the edge and down into the dinghy. He really is calmed by the restraint, and rushes to put his head in the life jacket when he sees up loading up.

We’ve moved on to Norman Cay. This is the island made famous by the 1980’s cocaine smuggler, Carlos Lehder.  While here, we plan to snorkel the wreck of one of Carlos’s planes that, over filled with drugs, crashed in the shallows , just offshore.  This is also where Tom and I managed to spear 2 beautiful lobsters on our last visit. I’ll leave you with this tempting site we came up on yesterday while strolling the beach. Obviously a recent guest must have caught this incredible edible crustacean, harvested the tail, and left his magnificent 8+” head as a trophy for us to lust after. We hope to find his relatives!