The Voyage of Spectacle

After about a week, we are starting to get settled into our new boat life but, alas, we have yet to sail anywhere!  It’s a good idea to acclimate to marina life considering only about one-third of our trip is at sea anyhow.

The Abacos are located in the northeast of the Bahamian archipelago (175 miles east of Palm Beach) in a 140-mile curve around the east of Grand Bahama.  The population of the Abacos is 11,000, and Marsh Harbour (located on a north-facing cove about midway down Great Abaco) is the third largest town in the Bahamas (after Freeport and Nassau).  A popular area with sailors, the Abacos are home to about half of the 60 marinas in the Bahamas.  Many of the cays in the surrounding area were settled by Loyalists after the American Revolution.  In 1973, the Abacos launched a fairly strong, but ultimately unsuccessful, movement to remain part of Britain rather than declaring independence with the rest of the Bahamas.

Marsh Harbour has been an excellent place to begin our journey.  The town is just big enough to have a lot of resources and services.  For instance, the eight restaurants within walking or short cab ride distance have been consistently pretty good (Andy begins the full-fledged restaurant reviews shortly).  We visited two different grocery stores to investigate the eventual boat provisioning opportunities, and we were pleasantly surprised both in availability and affordability.  One of the two stores is a Costco-type warehouse situation where we purchased gobs of non-perishables, soda, and paper products for about $350.  And I’m talking gobs of stuff … an avalanche of pancake mix, a dozen batches of brownie mix, granola bars, a dozen boxes of mac n’ cheese, etc.  The other store is a proper grocery store with produce, butcher, deli, bakery, the whole shebang – it could be a Ralphs in Pasadena.  The decent restaurants and proper grocery stores have been quite comforting for me since I can be quite finicky about food (for those who know me well, stop snickering).

The Conch Inn Marina has been a welcome first stop as well.  The facilities are clean and well managed … also a comforting revelation for me … and of course, there’s the spectacular view.

On Sunday, December 17, the three of us ventured out to Great Guana Cay for a visit to the infamous Nippers and its weekly Sunday pig roast. 

As beach bars go, it’s pretty tough to top Nippers, and getting there is half the fun.  After the ferry (about 30 minutes), one follows the signs on a Candyland-like adventure — turn left at the fence, right at the graveyard (complete with picture of the grim reaper on the gate), left at the rainbow-colored bulldozer, steer clear of the poisonwood tree, up and over the hill and you are there (we managed to avoid Molasses Swamp). 

Nippers itself is a multicolored, multi-tiered, cacophony of wood planking and American tourist jackassery.  It appeared to be South Carolina day at Nippers, as evidenced by the number of sun-burned necks protruding from Clemson and University of South Carolina tanktops. 

The pig roast was pretty good (alas, the pork was already carved and in trays, so there were no porcine rotisserie displays), the “Nipper” (a frozen rum punch concoction) proved excellent, the weather was perfect, and a good time was had by all.  We took a long walk along the beautiful beach, returned for a final round, and got ready to head home.

Just as we were closing out, Erik attracted … well, let’s just call it what was … a gay stalker.  This guy tried everything – herd separation tactics, inviting the three of us to dinner, etc.  He even invited us to stay at his apartment.  This dude was PERSISTENT.  He was accompanied by one of his co-workers (reasonably intoxicated, not particularly annoying) and a fall-down, Stacey Toran-drunk Australian (there’s always at least one wherever you go) who was some sort of boat captain/crewman.

The six of us sauntered back to the ferry dock (past the graveyard, the rainbow bulldozer…) to await the last ferry of the day.  Shortly thereafter, a very distraught woman holding a very small plastic bag arrived at the dock.  As we came to learn, she was holding her friend’s fingers.  We were told that the friend was building her own house on Great Guana and was the victim of a table-saw accident. Apparently, the owner of the fingers had already been transported to Marsh Harbour, en route to Nassau, inexplicably sans digits. 

Fall-down drunk Australian sprang into action.  Apparently, he’d come over to Great Guana in some sort of small powerboat that was affiliated with the bigger boat of which he was captain/crewman.  He dashed (ok, staggered) off to retrieve his powerboat so that the fingers could be sped to Marsh Harbour. Gay Stalker, apparently in a hurry to get home, suggested that we all hop on the boat.  Needless to say, we declined – we’re not getting on a speedboat, at night, in a very tricky harbor, with a fall-down drunk Aussie driver and the gay stalker co-pilot.  Equally needless to say, the gay stalker then changed his mind and decided to wait with us, and off roared the speedboat at triple the recommended speed. Yikes.  All I could think is that it takes a true friend to hop on drunken Aussie’s speedboat to make a nighttime delivery of your severed fingers.  More Pictures 

Happy New Year from Providenciales, Turks & Caicos!  We spent our New Year’s Eve with our new friends Selena and Dan here at the nearly excellent Coyaba restaurant and the quite chi-chi Grace Bay Club.  Selena and Dan were down here honeymooning at the Grace Bay Club from their home in St. Louis, where Selena is a law student at an excellent law school and Dan is a sales rep for an excellent golf company.  We actually spent three very fun evenings with them, and I expect they’ll be our friends long after we leave the boat.

We also spent New Years Day with Selena and Dan, this time sitting on our behinds at what passes for a sports bar here in Provo (and, by the way, it passes pretty well, all things considered) and watching the Trojans shred the heretofore ballyhooed Wolverines, followed by the eye-popping Boise St./Oklahoma Fiesta Bowl.  During the games, I realized that this was the first Trojan Rose Bowl I have missed attending in exactly 30 years – and I’m only 34 years old.

As some of you likely have heard, our passage down here from Marsh Harbour was not exactly “smooth.”  I am working on a comprehensive integrated write-up of “Fiasco Autopilot” and “Fiasco-Plus Turks & Caicos Passage.”  The passage really was a borderline Calamity, except that (a) it was never dangerous, and (b) it always was at least somewhat funny.  I promise you a full (which will mean VERY lengthy but quite entertaining) account in the next couple of days. 

For now, we are enjoying Provo, except for the third-world marina in which we are staying.  The marina is a very bumpy 20-minute drive down a dirt road from anything resembling civilization.  It has no hot water (so I haven’t shaved since Marsh Harbour) and is generally filthy, so we’re trying to finish our boat projects by around 2:00 p.m. each day before having a (cold) shower, getting dressed and heading into town (in our sweet rental Geo Tracker that is about to fall apart). 

We expect to be here for about another week before pushing off for St. Thomas.  It is unfortunate to be behind schedule already, but if there is one thing that the trip down here taught me, it is that you simply can’t use a “land” schedule for a “sea” trip.  We may have to skip an island or two that we’d previously planned on visiting, but that’s just how it goes.

Well, Turks and Caicos was not part of our original plan; nonetheless, we are definitely making the most of this unscheduled stop (in work and play)!

With 8 islands and a bunch of smaller cays, the Turks and Caicos Islands (TCI) are located on the southeastern tip of the Bahamian archipelago about 575 miles southeast of Miami and 100 miles north of Haiti.  The name Caicos may have been derived from the Spanish word for ‘cay’ (cayos), and the name Turks is believed to come from the resemblance of an indigenous cactus’ red dome to a fez.  Both Grand Turk and the Caicos islands are low altitude, scrub-covered limestone with huge coral reefs and striking turquoise water.

Our current port, Providenciales (Provo) is the most developed and populous island of the Turks and Caicos Islands.  Local legend says that Providenciales was named in the mid-18th century by the survivors of a shipwrecked French boat called La Providencielle.

Provo’s residents are a combination of native islanders (called “Belongers”), American, European, and Canadian expats, Haitians, and Dominicans.  Even with the diverse cultures, Provo is decidedly Americanized due to the development boom, increasing tourist industry, and rapid decline of other industries.  Throughout our stay, we sought out native food, activity, and entertainment … to no avail.  Though totally Americanized, Provo has no American fast food restaurants, which is quite refreshing.

Tourism is alive and well here as huge resorts and timeshare condominiums clutter the coastline.  It is our understanding that TCI is the destination of the rich and famous (evidently home to a Keith Richards lair) and prices definitely reflect that.  After experiencing a lot of what Provo has to offer, we probably would not recommend that you spend your hard earned dollars on the $850 average nightly room rate (with a 10 night mandatory minimum stay) at the big three resorts of Grace Bay Club, The Palms and Point Grace.  Don’t get me wrong, the beaches are fantastic, and some of the resorts are very nice … but I get the sense that most tourist things here are at least 20% overpriced.  From a value perspective, go to the Grand Wailea on Maui, or the Princeville Resort on Kauai … Hawaii may be a more crowded but a lot cheaper for comparable, or better, amenities.

When we were researching Turks and Caicos for trip planning purposes, we consulted Tripadvisor.com (we never leave home without doing so).  Most of the reviews were positive but with two major complaints: prices (which I’ve already talked about) and mosquitoes.  I expected the latter to be a bit silly or the kind of nitpicky complaint that some Tripadvisor.com users get so worked up about … I mean, really — it’s a tropical environment and there are gonna be some bugs.  As it turns out, it’s a valid complaint — the mosquitoes are plentiful and unusually vicious!

Around 4:00 or 5:00 p.m., we usually head out on the frightening dirt road towards the super fancy Grace Bay.  We’ve crashed just about all of the swanky resorts and since there’s really no such thing as the traditional “hotel lobby” here, we have peeked in the windows of ground floor rooms and condos to gauge how each swanky resort actually compares to the others (we think Point Grace might be the winner).  Plus, we’ve been to almost every restaurant in Grace Bay, from the swanky restaurants at the “Big Three” resorts down to the Irish Pub (where not a single Notre Dame fan was available to be taunted by Andy during the Sugar Bowl), Bella Luna (a decent Italian restaurant with a highly coveted taleggio appetizer), and the very cute Barefoot Café located below the yoga studio.

And so we find ourselves in the Dominican Republic and liking it to say the least!

On the northern edge of the Caribbean Sea, the Dominican Republic occupies the eastern two-thirds of the island of Hispaniola.  Haiti is to the west, and the island is basically the only thing shared by the two distinct cultures.  Haitians have French and African roots, speaking a unique Creole language, and Dominicans are of African, Amerindian, and Caucasian descent with a predominantly Hispanic culture. 

The Dominican Republic is far more developed and affluent than its Haitian neighbors, and enjoys far greater political and social stability as well.  Depending on who you ask, there are many reasons for this disparity.  Dominicans have strong opinions regarding Haitians and various stereotypes including work ethic and issues of entitlement, all evidenced by harsh border policies.  But I think the more valid reason lies with the satellite picture of the border of the Dominican Republic and Haiti.  It’s clear who has effectively utilized their natural resources, as are the repercussions of not doing just that.

The northern shore of the Dominican Republic is called the “Amber Coast,” home to the world’s largest amber deposits.  About 130 miles northwest of Santo Domingo, Puerto Plata lies at the base of Mount Isabel de Torres which is topped with a smaller version of Rio’s “The Redeemer.”  Near the old dock, the fort (Fuerte de San Felipe) marks the beginning of El Malecón which is an ocean side street and strand with amazing views and tons of restaurants and shops.  Puerto Plata hosted the windsurfing World Cup in 1988, and for you 80’s music buffs, Falco died in Puerto Plata in 1998 (Rock Me Amadeus!!!).

Christopher Columbus landed in, and named, Puerto Plata (“Port of Silver”).  Impressing Columbus, Puerto Plata’s silver-like appearance is attributed to many different possibilities: a) mist on Mount Isabel de Torres; b) the silver-looking leaves of the native guayaba trees; or, c) the striking color of the water at sunset often likened to the shimmering of a thousand silver coins.  Puerto Plata’s nickname is “La Novia del Atlantico” (The Bride of the Atlantic).

In a nutshell, the Dominican Republic is a very beautiful place … the mountains are lush and tropical, the ocean is Caribbean blue, and the coastline is rocky and picturesque.  The most beautiful part of the Dominican Republic is the people … not only are they physically attractive and prideful of appearance, but they are also friendly, genuine, interesting, and just generally good natured.  You would be hard-pressed to find the sourpuss Dominican.

It’s been hard work sorting out our boat problems but frankly, we’ve been having a ball here in the D.R.!  From previous Caribbean experiences, we knew that Presidente is the undisputed King of Beer – and it is absolutely delicious.  Andy sorted out our Dominican baseball alliances very quickly and provided us with good material for “water cooler” discussions with locals.  We’ve had fresh lobster and shrimp every day, and made new friends at our favorite local restaurants, Polanco and Ponderosa del Mar.

A pleasant surprise has been merengue which is the Dominican’s national music and dance style.  At the average bar, the bad dancers would be borderline fantastic by American standards.  Our first day here, we were taken to La Canita, which, at 3:30 on a Wednesday afternoon, was packed with a small crowd of semi-pro dancers, tearing up the dance floor to ear-splitting merengue.  We loved this place – it truly was one of our favorite bars ever.  It is, however, by no means unique – there are “La Canita”-type establishments (“Rancho Tipicos”) to be found more frequently than Starbucks in Seattle.  More Pictures