Throwback Thursday - Favorite Places Series - Foxtown, Bahamas

When we have traveled over the course of our lives, whether in our old VW bus, our various assortment of motorcycles, or on Kintala, we've always tended to visit the places less visited. We aren't the touristy types - we really can't ever imagine ourselves taking a cruise with 3,000 other people - and what we really enjoy the most about traveling is getting to know the local folks and hanging out in their hangouts. One of our most memorable finds was a little dumpy gas station in the rural areas of Maryland near Salisbury. We were on the bikes and traveling down some back roads when we needed a break. We pulled into this little gas station and on going in to pay we discovered that they sold ice cream in the back out of a deep freeze for 25¢ for this huge double decker cone. We went back there several years in a row but it eventually fell the way of so many little country businesses and closed due to a modern gas station opening up nearby.

Our travels on the boat were the same. While the draw for most people visiting Treasure Cay is to spend time in the pool, drinking at the beach bar or sunbathing on the beach, we spent our time in Flo's Cafe, having hillarious conversations with the locals about the state of U.S. politics. Not to say that there's anything wrong with the resort atmosphere, it's just different strokes for different folks.

Foxtown, Bahamas is one of those places that gets skipped by a lot of people. Quite a few cruisers head out from Lake Worth, FL and cross the Bahamas Banks straight for Green Turtle Cay, passing right by Foxtown. Maybe when we transition to a trawler that will be an urge we'll have to fight, that destination urge. But in Kintala we traveled at a leisurely pace, and almost always sailing, so Foxtown was a good stop to make between Great Sale Cay and Crab Cay. The anchorage can be a bit challenging to get into, and is not always the best in rough weather, but it's strewn with these odd large rocks that make it feel a lot like some other places we've been and draws us in.

The town is quite poor and doesn't have much in the way of support services. There are three food shops that are each about 12-foot square and it takes a trip to all three to get everything you need. There's no ice there except for at the bait shop the commercial fishermen use, and the only water available is in five-gallon jugs that you have to haul to the boat, empty, and bring back at $1.00 per gallon. But there's an amazing community of people there, including a whole bunch of kids in the local school that we were able to visit and read one of the children's books I wrote.

While Foxtown fared better than most through Dorian, they had all access to support services cut off by a bridge that washed away. They were trapped there and many had to be evacuated by helicopter because of the lack of access to food, water, and fuel from other parts of Grand Abaco. Our hearts go out to these special people and we hope that once we head back to the water we can go back to visit.

School Day …

Posted by TJ

March 10, 2015

After getting up this morning I made sure my shirt was clean and there were no big stains on my pants. Coffee, breakfast, brush teeth, shave close, generally making myself as presentable as possible. Load up, dink into shore, head down the road. Destination? Fox Town Preparatory school. Once there Deb was introduced to the students in the First / Second grade classroom as an Author from America (which she is), and then she read the class “Mr. Sun and the Super Sleepy Sunday”. After the story she answered questions from the kids and then left a signed copy of the book for their library.

It was the coolest thing we have done since setting out. The children were as polite as could be and nearly as cute as my own grand kids. The Principal and Teachers were friendly, professional, and clearly dedicated to the little ones in their charge. It was a real honor to be a part of their lives for just a little while, and Fox Town is now on our “must visit” list whenever we come this way.


In addition to the school visit we found fruit, milk, and even ICE CREAM while shopping the three small stores in the town. Everyone greeted us with a smile and a wave. A 10 pound block of ice was ours for just $5. The only shortfall was water, 5 gallons cost $6.50 and you had to return the bottle. Since we have a few days left in our tanks we decided to pass on the water, though we are in full conservation mode until finding some place to fill the tanks. (Yes, a water maker would make life easier right now, but this is the first time in 18 months where water on board is a concern.)

Principal Curry with the teacher and assistant.

One more thing about Fox Town. The anchorage is one of the prettiest ones we have been in. It is surrounded by little islands of rock, reminding me of the northeast coast of the US. The water isn't that deep, it is a bit of a dink ride to the dock, and there is enough fetch to make the place a little bumpy when the winds clock up to 20+ out of the east. It is still better than Dinner Key for most wind directions, and Kintala had no problem finding a good place to sit for a few days.

Kintala in the background.

After our school visit there was still enough time in the day to get underway. The plan was to sail to Powell Cay today, roughly 20 NM. The forecast for the Abacos is in a bit of a rut, ENE winds 15 to 20 with seas of 3 to 5 feet. It has been that way for nearly two weeks, and is forecast for the same as far into the future as the forecast goes. So, if one wants to get anywhere, 20 knots and five foot seas is what one gets to go in. Of course, the course to Powell Cay put the wind and waves directly on the bow.

Kintala's crew has gotten used to 5 foot seas breaking over the bow. Kintala herself doesn't mind 5 foot waves breaking over the bow so long as she has enough push to shoulder them aside. Ah, but the WesterBeast... The Beast and I have come to an uneasy kind of truce. I check it every single day we are under way, keep the revs down, and basically treat it like some kind of temperamental VIP who demands all the green M&Ms be taken from the bowl and the bottled water be shipped directly from France. In return the Beast has rumbled along with no complaints. It isn't using any coolant, isn't using any oil, and runs at a constant 178°. (Amazing what a heat exchanger overhaul will do. But hp is not the Beast's forté. It will get us in and out of an anchorage and motor us along, so long as we don't task it with too many 5 foot hills to climb. Insist on that and boat speed will fall by a third in each 5 footer, bringing Kintala to a stop with the third hit in a row. A fourth will have her backing up, Beast or no Beast. Three, four, and even five consecutive hits greeted the bow once we turned on course. Twenty miles is a long, long way in those kinds of conditions.

The medical center in town. My granddaughters would love this!

So the decision was made to abort to Crab Cay instead. Roughly the same heading but half the distance away. An hour or so later it was still nearly half the distance away. The Beast was just no match for the waves, and there was no point of sail that would work to cover the distance, even with multiple tacks. Even it there were, time was running out of the day for making multiple tacks.

Off the wind lay Allan's Pensacola Cay, only four miles away and with an anchorage that would offer some protection for the night. Also a place we skipped last year and wanted to see, so changing destinations yet again was an easy call. Deb turned Kintala off the wind and I spun out the staysail. Where we had been struggling to keep the average speed above 2 knots, now we were making 5+. Definitely an easy call. An added bonus was that the waves were not quite as tight to the bow, though we were still running sluices of water down the toe rail to pour off the side decks. Within two hours the hook was down, the deck set up for the night, and I had a sandwich and cold Rum & Coke in hand – complete with ice.

The colors here are stunning. There is simply no way to capture them on film.

Tomorrow we will try and get a little further east by leaving in the morning before the winds start their daily ramp up. That is the plan anyway.

Kintala swinging in the light wind.

Kacey this one's for you. One of the local bars with the ever-present Kalik sign.

The anchorage at Allen's Pensacola

Donny's Docks

If they let us, we would probably move there. Looking at the photos of the destruction, we wish we were there to help them to rebuild right now.

Ed Note: I don't yet have the photo credit for this photo. I will post it as soon as I get it

Donny's Docks in Black Sound on Green Turtle Cay holds a very special place in our hearts, along with a good many wonderful memories. New Plymouth, the town on Green Turtle, is one of the most authentic Bahamian towns we've visited. Everywhere the people are kind and generous. They have suffered a blow of unimaginable proportions, but the Bahamian people are a phenomenal group of human beings, and I have no doubt that their indomitable spirit will prevail, that they will rebuild, and that although different, it will be filled with the same sense of community, kindness, and faith. A place we will want to visit again and again.

Donny's docks before the hurricane. His house is at the end of the dock on the hill.

If you are able, please donate to Donny and his family as they begin to rebuild their home and their business. They have lost everything and it will be the kindness of strangers that enable them to survive. While there are many donation outlets, this is the one we have chosen to support. If you could donate even the value of one meal out this week, it will be greatly appreciated by both Donny and his family and us as well.

Here is the link to donate:

https://www.donnysboatrentalsgtc.com

Here are photos of the way we will always remember Green Turtle Cay.

Again

Having a Science Center nearby is one of the perks of living in St. Louis. It is an interesting and informative place. The Center is full of machines and interactive displays that focus on everything from dinosaurs to farming to space travel. There is an IMAX theater (currently being upgraded) and a planetarium. They even have a flight center that houses a couple of full motion simulators. Nothing nearly as fancy (or expensive) as those at work, but something that will be fun to explore with the grand kids one of these days.

The Center often hosts special exhibitions. The current display is focused on artifacts recovered from the city of Pompeii. There are actually two separate displays. The first one that visitors enter is filled with statues, household goods, art, models, and video recreations of daily life. They reveal a people who were master artisans.  Pottery, metal and glass work, sculpture, art...2000 years old and utterly captivating.

Their engineering prowess was equally impressive, with complex waste and water management systems, under-floor heating, paved roads, with the weight and measure standards necessary to support a complex economy and robust construction efforts. Though they did have the slave economy common to many ancient cultures, their slaves were usually paid wages and could, eventually, buy their freedom. Unfortunately, that was not the reality with the sex-slave trade, which was a legal enterprise openly supported by the government and the elite. Not everything about their culture was as beautiful as their art.

After learning about the city and its culture one enters a small, stand up theater where the destruction of the town is played out on a large movie screen, complete with sound and light effects. Pompeii met its end on August 24th, 79 AD when the nearby Mount Vesuvius volcano experienced a massive eruption. The town and most of its thousands of inhabitants were buried under 12 feet of ash and debris; lost to the world for over 1,600 years.

The theater screen then lifts and one enters the final room of the display, filled with pictures of the excavation…and the mummified remains of some of the inhabitants. Children, mothers, husbands, and neighbors caught in their final moments, terrified and trying to escape or huddling with the people they loved most as their world fell in on them.

It is a sad and sobering display. These folks had no idea what their end would be, there wasn’t even a word for “volcano” in their language. They would likely have laughed at the very idea that a mountain made of rock could blow up, spew fire and ash, and destroy their city between one sunrise and the next.  It is likely religious, business, and civic leaders would have vigorously joined in attacking anyone who claimed such a thing as being a fool, a charlatan, or simply insane.

The city's religious leaders might have declared that Bacchus ( a lesser god of agriculture, wine and fertility) had assured them that He would never allow a city known around the world for its wine, to meet such an end. Should Bacchus prove inadequate, the city boasted great temples built to the glory of the most powerful gods Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. Virtually every house included alters where daily worship took place. The Priests would expect such piety insured a prosperous future for generations to come.

For more mundane reasons, business leaders would seek to silence such claims in order to protect the city's economic health, and civic leaders would surely take a dim view of such nonsense alarming the less educated among the population.

They all had less than a day of knowing how wrong they were. Then they died.

On nearly the same day (though nineteen hundred years later) Dorian stalled over the Abaco Islands, then moved N-N-W toward the US east coast. The storm’s track meant that that Daughter Eldest and Family suffered nothing more than a few days of hiding out in a hotel room. Both their boat and Kintala notched up yet another close hurricane call while escaping without a scratch.

But the news out of Marsh Harbor, Treasure and Green Turtle Cays, Hope Town…nothing short of heart breaking sadness. Those were places where Deb and I lived for months at a time, where our perspective of the world was changed for the better, where we became different people than we were when first setting out to go cruising. There is no way to process what has happened, to balance the relief against the sadness. So many people have suffered a devastating loss. People we met, knew, and admired. People who welcomed us into their communities and invited us into their homes.

The two, relief and grief, are incompatible; yet there they are. There is nothing anyone can do about a Cat 5 hurricane stalling over the home of a friend. And though, unlike the people of Pompeii, there was some warning that this was coming, some knowledge of what could happen and why; not everyone had the chance, the resources, or the time, to escape. Barely a week before Dorian grew into the most violent storm to ever hit the Islands, the best forecasters on the planet using the most advanced equipment available thought there was a good possibility that it would pass the Islands as a tropical storm, harass parts of Florida with some wind and rain, and fade away.

I have to wonder though, how many of them secretly feared the worst? I know I did…Mathew, Irma, Michael, and now Dorian. But I am not a forecaster, and billions of $$ of prep aren’t spent on wild speculations about the mountain looming in the background.