The Turning Point

Perhaps Georgetown would have looked better to us had we not been coming from the remote paradise of Conception Island.   We needed to provision though, and Georgetown was the place to do it.  Our water supply was down to 15 gallons (out of 65 total), and the only fresh vegetable on board was cabbage.  We also needed various hardware items and fishing supplies, having lost two lures to what we presume were barracuda.  We were also looking forward to catching up with Funny Things.  We'd parted ways in Marsh Harbour, when they made a bee-line for Georgetown to meet a friend, and we sailed on to Eleuthera. 

So many people had told us how great Georgetown was and how much we would love it.  But being one of 370 other boats and walking streets where cruisers outnumber locals 10 to 1 is not exactly our idea of a great time.  Neither are organized activities like yoga, volleyball, dances, and how-to-make-conch-horn workshops taught by some guy from the Midwest.  It just wasn't really our scene.  We didn't travel all this way to be surrounded by a ton of other people... well... like us.

Oh Yeah?  I'll drive this bad boy.

Dinghy dock, Georgetown 

The attitudes of the local Bahamians were much different in Georgetown too.  They seemed to be generally annoyed by the cruiser population.  Cruisers were not an appreciated novelty as they are on some of the more remote islands.  They were an unrelenting swarm all asking the same questions; "Where can I get free internet?",  "Where's the cheapest place to buy beer?", "When will the fresh produce be in?", "Is the free water at the dinghy dock safe to drink?", "Where can I dump my bags (and bags, and bags) of trash?".  We were no different.  Just more privileged white people on a yacht.

We made the best of things for the few days we were there, and decided to dive in for the full Georgetown experience.  One morning, operating on a tip from the morning cruisers net on the VHF, we lined up at the corner in town and waited for the "meat truck".  The meat truck is a pick-up that piles as many cruisers as can fit (plus two) in the back and whisks them 8 miles out of town to a market run by a meat aficionado from New Jersey.  Here you can purchase all sorts of meats and cheeses at very reasonable prices.  The local grocery stores do sell some meat, almost all of which is frozen, all of which displays the pallor of something that has been through the freeze-thaw cycle one too many times.  We were really craving some good meat.  Something besides fish.

While we waited at the corner, the meat line grew longer and longer.  Everyone standing around holding little coolers, wearing quick-dry outfits and wide brimmed hats, all talking about what Chris Parker had to say that morning on the SSB.  The girls and I decided to relinquish our real estate in the meat truck so other carnivores could get a fix (that, and I was afraid they might get eaten). Scott, stepped up for the challenge and wedged himself in the back of the truck (thanks to the lubrication of sunscreen), and drove off with the tribe for the hunt.  He returned an hour later with a trophy selection of cheeses, steak, lamb chops (my favorite), crackers, and a bottle of wine.  After all, it was Valentine's Day.

The "meat truck"

After an amazing meal, with a full moon on the rise, we dropped Riley at Funny Things to hang out with Franklin and Imogen, and we took Wren to the Valentine's Day dance (phase II of our Georgetown immersion).  

Cheeeese....

n' lamb.

Scott and I were hoping for a live band, but as we approached the beach house in the dinghy we heard Rockin' Ron's Rock n' Roll Dance Party blasting hits from the 70's and 80's.  We knew we were in for a treat. 

Rockin' Ron and his wife

Of course, Wren was thrilled; her big sister out of the picture, her parents all to herself, and a Shirley Temple in hand.  What more could a 9 year old ask for?  She's still at that wonderful age when doing the Superfreak with her dad, clad in a Hawaiian shirt and Mardi Gras beads, is not even remotely embarrassing.  I'm just thankful he didn't hurt himself. 

Wanna dance?

"She's super freaky"

Swinging under the Casaurinas

T/T Kiawah, in a sea of mast head lights

We ended the evening on Funny Things, drinking rum with Eric and Betsy and toasting their recent decision to leave Georgetown and head to Puerto Rico.  How we would have loved to join them in this adventure!  But, alas, we were as far South Kiawah would be bringing us.

Imogen and Scott in matching shirts

The girls spent one last afternoon hanging out with Franklin on Monument Beach and then swimming off Kiawah's bow. 

Boat friendships are fast and furious, and at times, a little sad.  Especially when you're a kid.  Goodbyes loom on the horizon like thunder clouds.  We've had our share of goodbyes.  What makes them easier to take is thinking about the great friends and family we have to come home to.  There's a lot to be said for the relaxed familiarity of good friends and family.  There's a lot to be said for being with people who know you and get you, and have for a long time.   There's a lot to be said for not having to tell your story.  Again.  We think and speak of you all often.  Thanks for following along with us.  And thanks for holding down the fort.  We hope you are all well. 

We're on our way home.