Black Point

Bahamian sloop

Black Point, Exuma was special. 

Not just because it was a calm anchorage after a particularly rough day of sailing.  Now that we were headed north, we were finally able to take advantage of prevailing east winds and sail on a broad reach instead of windward.  This was a nice change.  But there was a lot of east wind, and the sound was swelly and confused after a few days of strong winds.  Occasionally, 6 foot waves would rise up and slap Kiawah on the rear quarter sending a salty spray into the cockpit.  The girls thought it was great fun to announce each giant wave before it hit, "Hold on mom, here comes a BIG one!".  Wren seems to be over her tendency for sea sickness.  But I was crouched on the cockpit floor turning several shades of green.  It's a good thing I can't write during times like this because I would most definitely resort to profanity to describe the situation.  I'm trying to keep this blog family friendly.  It's funny how it all fades away as soon as the hook is dropped  in calm waters.

And Black point wasn't special just because we hooked into a good sized Wahoo just as we were about to drop the mainsail and head into the particularly treacherous cut linking rough Exuma Sound with the calm waters of the Great Bahama Bank.  The timing of that catch could have been better.  A lot better. 

Going through the cut

But Wahoo means "good" in Hawaiian.  It was also the sound we all made when we realized that the long, thin, silvery fish on the end of line was NOT a barracuda.  We'd lost our beloved "Whistler" lure earlier that day to a large barracuda and were all feeling a heightened level of disdain for the creatures.

Wahoo!!!!!

Black point was special because the people that live there made it special.  They were friendly and generous and very proud of their beautiful little town.  They went out of their way to make us feel welcome.

Black Point harbor

One afternoon, the girls and I were standing outside the laundromat looking up at a tree in the adjacent yard.  The tree was laden with peculiar fruits.  We were having a discussion as to what they might be and trying to figure out how to reach one for closer inspection.  Wren was just about to get on my shoulders when a woman approached us.  I braced myself for a scolding.  But instead, she proceeded to explain everything we ever wanted to know about the sapodilla fruits that covered the tree.  Before I knew it she had a young man climbing the tree and harvesting fruit for us.  A few minutes later he handed me a full shopping bag and said with a smile, "Soak dem in salt water and put dem in a brown bag and come back and tell me how fast dey ripen".  I did just that.  In a couple of days we had more sapodilla fruits than we knew what to do with.  They reminded us of several familiar things; fuzzy like a kiwi, grainy like a pear, and sweet like maple syrup.  They were delicious! 

Sapodilla

View from the "laundramat"

We had many more encounters with the local people while wandering the streets of Black Point.  The teaching principal of the local school even invited the girls to come spend a day in the classroom.  Unfortunately, the timing didn't work out as they were going into a vacation week.   And then there was Francis....  I'll let Riley tell you about Francis.  Please see her blog entitled "Plaiting". 

Sam, plaiting palmetto fronds

Yup, it was hard to leave Black Point and head north up the Exuma island chain.   But there was so much more to come; endangered Iguanas, swimming hogs, coral grottos...  Besides that, the Wahoo was gone.  It was time to wet the line again.

Not fish