Amazon Adventure# 17. The ruins of Royal Island.

Royal Island has RUINS, and that`s a good thing. After a day spent mostly sleeping after our night crossing we do some snorkeling and then motor up the bay to anchor into the mangrovesfor shelter from the gale. We have seen old buildings ashore and look forward to exploring the next day.

The journal:
Jan.10th.
Today we woke up, had breakfast and mom and dad had a saltwater shower on deck. We got ready to leave and then Ian from ‘Action’ came and offered us a ferry ride in his Zodiac! What a relief not to have to do it in Hippo. It was a bouncy and splashy trip. We had to lift ourselves up onto the jetty. When mom tried to get up, dad dropped her - SCAREY! - She scratched her leg and banged up her toe. PAIN!

Next, the ruins. We climbed up the cement staircase posted with such slogans as "Use your island and stop abusing it!" " Be good to your island!". I see their point because there are lots of coke cans and garbage. We reached the top of the stairs among coconuts and red and white flowering bushes. All these old buildings were built in the 1920`s ( You can tell because of the type of plumbing) but made to look much older with stone masonry etc. The main house was very pretty once but now we struggled through bushes to see it. There was also a guest house, a dining hall, servants quarters, kitchen, school, pool hall and many more little buildings. All of these are joined by cement roads twice as wide as the ones on Green Turtle Cay. There were fruit trees and a lot of other trees and bushes that must be lovely in the Spring. We saw lots more and then blew the horn and Ian came and got us. With him he brought an Eleuthera pineapple and a book on the Loyalists in the Exumas called ‘Wind from the Carolinas’, - very good! Not a bad day. Anne.

Building rustic furniture #2. The final touches.

It was an exciting day when I carried all the finished pieces of furniture up to the cabin and Heather and I settled on where each one would best fit. It was a relief for me to see how their collective impact gave unity and just the right atmosphere to the log cabin. The bed frame had been varnished in place but the headboard was carved, stained, gilded and varnished in the workshop before being screwed to the wall behind the bedframe. As usual I had created the design without knowing precisely where the image was going. When I chose this knotty board I had seen the knots as just so many eyes but my first trial sketch had been of a starry universe with our schooner Shiriri sailing into their midst - a sensation we had so often experienced while sailing the Pacific. I think that if the idea has a powerful resonance in itself, then the piece of work cannot help but carry itself into reality. As an invitation for interesting dreams, it is in the right place!

Building rustic furniture for a log cabin.#1

Some of the completed furniture prior to varnishing.

Preparation.
When we recently decided to stop renting our log cabin ( which I built thirty years ago) and turn it back into our family`s cottage we needed to furnish it again. Our financial resources were scanty but we were excited to imagine what our little log house in the big woods could be made to look like after so many years of renting. One last major job of cleaning, re-finishing the lodge pole pine walls and washing those high windows in the vaulted ceiling and then we were free to turn to watching the used furniture ads.

Skinning the bark with the drawknife.

Our daughters, who would be the major users of the cabin now, felt we should furnish totally in Ikea furniture, but in the end we found a couch and chair of a Quebec heritage style and realized that they would suit the log cabin perfectly. Their strong ash-wood frames set a style that permitted me to make some of the other furniture myself out of materials I had right to hand. I`d always looked for an opportunity to make ‘rustic furniture’ and with a pile of recently cut poles waiting in the forest and a ancient cedar door that had been accidently split down the middle taking up room in my workshop, I realized that I had everything I needed. I was not interested in the more ‘expressive’ examples I found in a book on the subject but wanted to make fine pieces of furniture that would look right beside our ‘Habitant’ furniture and the log walls and beams of the cabin.

The former cedar door cut up to make the tops.

Drying the pole parts beside the stove.

After measuring for and making a list of pieces of furniture (many side tables, desk and chair, bed frame and backboard) I cut up the solid door into various sizes and sanded them. Then off to the woods to select and carry back all the thin poles that I would need for legs and rails. These I peeled of their bark with a draw knife ( it came off easily because they were recently cut),cut them to various lengths and then added an innovation of my own by using my circular saw to make a longitudinal cut in each piece so that the stresses involved in shrinking wood as it dried would result in one crack instead of many( that could be filled later with a thin piece of wood). All were cut to length and then brought into the house and placed beside the wood stove to dry quickly ( my equivalent of kiln drying.) Here they sat for two weeks getting as dry as possible before I started the assembly process.

I was also out among my big cedars clipping thinner curved branches to form braces for some of the pieces. I`d need plenty so I could select matching pairs: these I skinned with a knife and also set to dry.

Assembly.

The new bed frame and backboard would be needed quite soon for a family Easter visit so even though it was the biggest item, it was the first to be built from wide cedar planks and vertical poles. Heather particularly urged me to avoid the overly dramatic effect of the massive pole construction we had seen illustrated in the reference book ( ‘Making Rustic Furniture’ by Daniel Mack.) Although large in size, the frame and backboard were simple to build. Balanced across the wheelbarrow, the bed trundled easily up the hill to the cabin. Without it`s varnish finish as yet, I am planning to do some carving on the backboard once all the visitors have left.

The desk, seat and multiple tables were the next project to fit into the busy week of cabin preparations and first Spring garden planting. I first made the seating bench for the writing table to make sure I had my technique correct ( I `d made one coffee table using this method a couple of years ago).First I drilled four mortice holes with a one and a half inch drill bit into the bottom corners of the cedar seat top (being careful to not drill right through). The legs needed tenons on the tops to fit into these mortices and so I drilled the same bit on the ends of each leg to mark the correct size and then used the table saw to cut the waste depth about an inch back from the end. I chipped out the waste wood with my Swiss Army knife and sanded for a close fit.

Once propped up on it`s legs, I marked where the rungs would best go and drilled out the holes with a three quarter inch drill bit. After measuring for length, I cut the rungs and used a Veritas tenon cutter to shape the ends ( what a great tool to fit on an electric drill.) After dry assembly to check, I used yellow carpenters glue for final assembly and held the whole thing together with pieces of rope cinched up tight. Over the last couple of days I have mass produced a desk and five more side tables in an assembly line manner. A final hand sanding and several coats of satin varnish and they will be finished.

Much of the satisfaction in this project has been the making of something practical and beautiful from free recycled materials. Those poles were extra thin pieces left over from fence post and firewood making from beetle killed balsam firs. As mentioned, the cedar tops were made from a broken front door. Those wide cedar planks for the bed frame were cut several years ago from dead red cedars that had slowly died while we were away sailing. Of course, if I charged for my labour then Ikea would have been much cheaper (and they do have some nice designs). No personal satisfaction though, and our little cabin will show the difference.

Amazon Adventure # 16. Night Passage to Royal Island.

Departure from Little Harbour.

This overnight passage is our first since the crossing of the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas. Once again we will be out in the deep blue sea and travelling through the night so as to arrive off our landfall in daylight. Navigational aids in the Bahamas must not be taken for granted and weather forecasting is vague at best. We are glad to be making this passage in company of other boats and that we have the VHF radio for communication. Amazon does not handle sailing and motoring to windward through the waves as well as the heavier monohulls can, but she proves that she can do it if she must.

Approaches to Royal Island.

The journal:

Jan. 9th &10th.
We departed Little Harbour at 5pm in company of three other boats. Agreed to keep to 4 knots so as to arrive off the reefs near Egg Island at daybreak. We went over the bar on quiet big rollers ( not like the breakers of the last few days). Set all sail to a light SE breeze, hoisted the motor and fell behind. Finally back on with the engine and caught up with the convoy which was already stretching out toward the horizon. We ate a supper of chilli by the evening light and took in the yankee jib. Moonlight, on with the nav. lights ( they are right at last after that stressful hoist to the top of the mast).

In convoy.

As the night progressed the fitful breeze strengthened and we were sailing very close hauled with the engine on slow. The line of boats ahead of us are little winking lights all in a row. Small waves, sailing fast, catching up. ‘Hole in the wall’ light is out. Radio from another boat – the Egg Island light is out too. Breeze strengthening, boat plunging. H. & A take over the watch at midnight, Gwyn and I are tired and giggly. I semi sleep below feeling the boat twist and groan and crash into the waves. Engine straining. Heather calls me up to confirm that a freighter will indeed miss us.

Dawn shows Knot Bad, Egg Island, and a wreck on the reef.

4AM. Elaine and I take over and continue the crash to windward. Anne has taken the stays`l down, main is partially filled. Refuel from jerry can. Throttle keeps on sticking. Finally, slowly, slowly, comes the dawn. Elaine listens to the radio, the leading boats have arrived; they can see landmarks. We can now see islands on the horizon. The sun rises! Everything takes on colour and life. How satisfying are these sunrise landfalls after the worries, troubles and bleakness of the nights. Addictive.

Amazon takes a short cut between Egg Island and Royal Island.

We catch up with Knot Bad with Santa in charge and follow close behind so he can break a way through the waves for us. We follow him through a narrow passage and soon hoist the stays`l and coast along the shores of Royal Island to the protected anchorage of Royal Harbour.
Fixed the throttle problem (WD40), put away sails, put up sun shelter and go to sleep!

Amazon Adventure # 15. Santa Sighting at Little Harbour.

Girl`s eye view through the tent flap.

Little Harbour was established by a Canadian artist who went WAY back to the Land with his family long before it became ‘normal’ for people like us to do so. We have read his book about his families adventures in the last couple of weeks and have been looking forward to meeting them. First though, we have to speak with ‘Santa’ who arrives bright and early the next morning.

We knew that after the Christmas rush Santa planned to vacation in the Bahamas ( He had told Gwyn that in his Christmas letter) but even so when we were hailed ("Amazon ahoy!") and I stepped out of the tent onto the foredeck the family were amazed to glimpse a rotund, white bearded gentleman bobbing alongside in a little dinghy which was full of colourful ..... water containers. He introduced himself as Dick Stone and asked if we needed water and had any empty containers we needed filling as he was rowing across the bay to the spring. His boat is called ‘Knot Bad’ and is registered in NOME, Alaska. We know that ‘Knot Bad’ really means ‘Good’ and that Nome ( gnome, get it?) is close to the North Pole. Santa is travelling in disguise alright while on holiday but he can`t fool us! ‘Dick’ is close to ‘Nic(olas)’ don`t you think?

From the Journal:
Jan.8th.
Walked to Mr. Johnson`s studio and found him ready to go to lunch but he turned back and gave us a most interesting tour of his studio and showroom. I liked most of his bronze sculpture very much but some of it ( like death chasing a shacked man with terrified eyes ) I certainly would not want in my house! Mr. Johnson is about 82 but still very spry and interesting.

In the afternoon we hiked across the southern arm of the bay to the ocean beach. The breakers were terrific! We plodded along in the wet sand and hot sun, checking every piece of flotsam and jetsam for possible use and picking up shells. Heather.

Jan9th.
‘Every body goin` surfin` USA.’ Not really but we did go snorkeling! We woke up this morning, ate breakfast, then since mom REALLY wanted to go to a beach ( what a laugh) we left for a beach in ‘the Bight’. I steered, we got around the point and headed for a beach. Soon we ran aground about 50 meters off the sandy beach so we had to walk through eel grass and sea-enemies[ sic, totally] and sea urchins and sandy lumps with holes in them. I knew we should n`t go in but mom said we HAD TO ,...so Squish... GROSS!!! Think about it. You are in mud two inches deep and water two feet, there are creatures everywhere ( by the way, there were sea cucumbers too) and the only way across was to walk on the sand lumps and you`d be afraid that whatever was in those holes was going to meet you.
While you were thinking about that, Elaine and I had gotten across to the beach where Dad had found two coconuts and Anne had found Man Friday`s footprints. Mom then went into the woods and found a coconut with a tree growing out of it and came running back chased by mosquitos. Quickly we waded back to the boat, upped anchor and headed to another beach. We cut the coconuts up so we could dry them.

Heather and Gwyn cut up coconuts.

Elaine and I got out the snorkeling gear and paddled around for a bit, then Dad came in to wash off the hair ( mom had cut his looong hair and she had cut Elaine too) I got out and dad taught Elaine how to go underwater and then he tried to teach me ( nooo luck!) . Mom cut her hair and tried the flippers but as she said, " The paddles keep coming up."

We stopped by Santa when we went back to Little Harbour and he said there was a group of boats headed for Royal Harbour that night [they had been waiting for a week or more for the waves to die down enough to get safely out to sea through the pass] so we will go too.
Dad borrowed a bosun`s chair and went up the mast to change the navigation light while us girls held on to Dad`s life!
We then went out to those rolling seas. Anticipation was ahead of us and we were waiting for Puffin, Knot Bad and Whiskers . Finally Puffin and Knot Bad came but Whiskers was n`t so we left out to those rolling seas. Gwyn.

The Door. Yggdrasil: The World Tree.

The front door of our house.

Long ago when I built our home I made the front door from splined together cedar planks and gave it an arched top. Over the years it opened and closed, kept out the cold of winter and heat of summer. It was the entry into our private lives and the exit into the larger world. When we rented out our house to go sailing around the Pacific it picked up more dents and scrapes - scratched gouges from dogs determined to come in - and weathered grey from rain and sun. When we returned and began to pick up our land life again the door, along with the rest of the house, needed to be renewed.

Sailing on the ocean had opened me to a much bigger and wilder world that what I had known when first I made this door and I needed to incorporate this new perspective into the symbolism of our door. I found that I was drawing images of a tree in my sketchbook - I wanted to carve an image into the door and at first I only imagined a natural form that would fill the tall, curved topped shape. On researching the imagery of trees however, I found the old Norse folk story of a tree as a representation of a greater reality: Yggdrasil, the World Tree. I had found an image that would be more that just a pretty design - it would be an idea of first beginnings that would open a portal every time we entered or exited our house. Here was a view of reality that fitted with my primal experiences on the ocean. Yes! This was it!

Yggdrasil incorporates an explanation of all reality and origins: many worlds beside our own, the passage of time from the original void to the eventual destruction of the world and the unfolding relationships of all of it`s complex parts. Too much for one door to contain, but it was possible I felt to make a version that could carry the essence without the heavy freight of the whole world view. I wanted a reference, not a complete statement.

The dog,Garm guards the entrance.

As is usual in my creative work I was influenced by the materials and tools that I had on hand: a new bandsaw and router, some quarter-inch thick, wide planks of cedar I had milled some time in the past. I also needed to be able to complete the design quickly as the front door could not be off for long. The idea of doing an applique whereby I could precut the design with the bandsaw and arrange the elements carefully before gluing them in place had obvious merits. After belt sanding the door ( the dog scratches were too deep to remove completely), I pre-sanded all the elements and then epoxy glued them to the door and tacked them down with fine finishing nails. I used the router to form the bottom of the tree canopy right into the door itself. Some final hand sanding, several coats of Danish oil and the door was quickly back in place and looking beautiful.

The other day I found a Jehovah`s Witness in the midst of turning away from knocking on the door. Dressed in an Icelandic sweater and with a Northern European accent, she asked if I had made the door because she liked it very much. I said yes and thank you and complemented her on her handmade sweater. Somehow we forgot to talk about Christian things in front of this door to another older but weirdly familiar cosmology.

A wartime Story.

The two Bills.

When my parents died I asked for the family albums with the idea of recreating in story and image, times in my family`s past of which I personally had no memory. A way of honouring and giving resonance to the lives of those who created me. A way of understanding myself a little better too.

The first thing I wanted to tackle were my father`s First World War photographs of his time in Egypt and Palestine in and around 1917. Amazing to think that it was almost a hundred years ago and how few generations really separate the present day from say, 1066 and the battle of Hastings. People haven`t changed that much through time, just the content of their minds undergoes regular updates and renewals.

I researched the historical background of the Palestine campaign to be able to put the photos and personal stories into perspective with the help of my brother John who has written military histories and interviewed Dad to get the story of his personal battle and wounding. I was surprised how naturally all the complexity of the campaign was understandable to me: as though every Englishman has generations of warfare built into his DNA. As well, the photos gave me a view of my father, (whom I only ever knew as an elderly man. I was born when he was fifty-two), as a young man still in his early twenties. I saw him in the photos fooling around with his fellow officers in a way that seemed eerily familiar: like myself in fact. I had made a connection all these years later to another ‘Bill’ Gardam.

Bill is in the middle. 1917.

I`ve put the story on another separate blog as it would interrupt the continuing Amazon Adventure on Dragongate. I also hope that it will attract readers and researchers with more specific interests who will add their own comments and additions: a sort of community resource.
www.billsgreatwar.blogspot.com

Amazon Adventure # 14. An Exciting sail to Little Harbour.

                       Amazon in the big waves of North Bar Channel.

We have been reminded on the ocean facing beaches on the islands we have visited since New Years that while we have struggled with wind and wave on the Banks, out in the open ocean are the really big ocean waves of winter gales. On the sheltered sail south to Little Harbour we are caught off guard when a pass into the deep ocean allows big waves to sweep into the shallows and break all around us. We are glad that Amazon (with her hatches closed) is a wash-through craft. The wave that breaks over us just drains through the deck and back into the ocean. What an excellent little catamaran this is!

The Journal:

Goodbye Marsh Harbour. Actually got to like the place and knowing where things could be found.

Off with a light NE breeze under main and genoa. Big yachts started to get passed! We made a long run wing on wing toward Little Harbour with a light following breeze right across the shallow banks - sand rushing by right under the hulls.
I found a new place to steer from perched right aft on the netting beam which gives a great view of the boat and sails. We decided to start the engine and speed thing up as it was getting late.
We could see VERY large breakers on the reef and barrier islands. Beautiful in the evening sunlight.

                                    North Bar Channel and Little Harbour.

Soon we sailed past an opening in the reef (North Bar Channel) with enormous waves hoisting us up and down. I turned us toward a breaking wave top and got us all soaked. Then we turned again to take them on the quarter and had no more trouble. Amazon was moving fast in the increasing wind and engine on full power as we raced the night. We could see Little Harbour ahead: a dark cliff with breakers and some masts behind.

We slipped into the small crowded harbour, ran up on a sandbar, backed off and are now anchored near the beach in a sheltered spot. A nice supper of hamburger patties and hash browns with tapioca for duff. All accompanied by Mozart. Looking forward to a explore tomorrow. I spent some time tonight looking at charts for the next stage to Eleuthera. Bill.

Amazon Adventure# 13. You gotta have Hope (Hope Town, that is.)

A walk on the wild side at Hope Town.

We meet some fellow Canadians who invite us to visit Hope Town on another nearby island where we spend New Years anchored and tied tightly into a narrow, mangrove lined channel. We visit Man o War Cay and as in Hope Town see the impact of tourism when it is too massive for small communities to absorb: lots of houses for rent, curio shops and precious few original folks around and most of them serving the tourists. Ready money yes, but they are living in an imitation copy world of the original real thing and it must be soul destroying.

Afer a visit to Great Guana Cay, we decided to finally visit Treasure Cay - that fabled place we had been trying to get to for Christmas. Something of a disappointment (we are so glad we ended up at Green Turtle Cay), as Treasure Cay is a real estate development like ones we had seen in Florida. A mangrove swamp dredged into channels and raised building lots but only a marina and shops really established and the brick lined channels empty except for Amazon swinging on her anchor.

We headed back to Marsh Harbour to see if our money from home had arrived. The rain and wind and the expensive food start us thinking that we will sail south in search of balmy weather, fresh fruit and the perfect tropical island to settle down at for a long while.

Marsh Harbour ,Man of War Cay. Elbow Cay with Hope Town.

The Journal:

Dec.30th.
We went to Hopetown to see the people we met yesterday [Dr. Ray and Cathy Heidenbeker].
Found out by co-incidence that we had arrived in their bay and went to visit. When we came back to Amazon we heard " Look-it! What a way to treat the flag! They are Canadians!" We got on the boat proudly. Gwyn.

Dec.31st.
After spongies and breakfast in bed we had coffee and went to the open beach on the windy side of the island. Mom and dad went for a walk and Anne wrote a poem, Gwyn was drawing pictures and I was making a bracelet. It was getting cold and windy so mom went shopping for groceries while the rest of us went into a straw shop that was absolutely NEAT.
Got back to the boat when "Oh no!" came from somewhere on deck. The line for the dinghy had come loose and ‘Hippo’ was on the other side of the inlet. Dad got on his swimsuit and jumped in. COLD! No, really after a while he said it was warm. He scrambled into Hippo and came back. Then we had pancakes Yaaaa!
Meanwhile it was pouring and BLOWING! Even in the most sheltered place in the Bahamas ( So Cathy H. says.) Elaine.

Jan 1st.
Dad had a bath in Hippolyta this morning as it rained so much last night it was half full of fresh water. Then after two hours of homework and then lunch we went ashore. I`m beginning to think that swimming is better than Hippolyta. If you sit on the edges you get yellow dye all over you and if you sit on the bottom you get soaked ( and blue)! You can`t win! We walked a lot today trying to find the road to the big lighthouse and then back home. (I guess you could call this boat home) Hot dogs tonite. Yeah! Anne.

Jan. 2nd.
We paraded out of Hope Harbour with our washing flying in the breeze. We smashed, crashed into the westerly wind and over the shallows to the narrow entrance to Man o war Cay. We found it crowded and lacking in good shallow sheltered spots. We anchored off the town and ‘Hippoed’ to shore. A tricky thing, as she has a slow persistent leak and bulges close to the water beneath our bottoms. We walked up the sidewalk-sized streets like ‘yer basic tourists.’ (I still feel vaguely uncomfortable and useless doing this.)
A man in a store ( Mr. Albury) told us that most of the land has been sold to Americans although there are a few fishermen and boatbuilders left. With many houses to rent and every third one a gift shop, it is a pretty, but eviscerated community.

Later we paddled madly back to Amazon in the stiff breeze and sailed deeper into the long bay looking for some shelter. The only shelter was behind a headland beside some touristy houses but a woman violently waved us away. We shrug, (She does n`t own the sea.) and tuck close into shore for the night.

Jan.3rd.
An hour`s motoring and we anchored off Great Guana Cay. We found it much less touristy than Man o War ( Of course, by being there, we are changing that just a little.) We met Milo Pindar and were pleased to find his exchange library. We talked to Milo and chose books. His accent`s very typical with dropped and added H`s and slight English accent. When he talks fast he loses us! He gave each of the girls a sharks tooth to make into a pendant.

After a walk on the windward side we headed off to Treasure Cay. That fabled place we did n`t get to for Christmas.
We are anchored past the marina in a very quiet still spot. Tomorrow we will see if we have to nerve (gall) to have showers and fill up out water containers or just a walk past the shops. Spaghetti tonight! Heather.

Jan.4th.
Today we woke up in the swamp thing and toodled over to the dock, or beach, past two wrecked boats. It was really pouring rain and we finally found the showers which really did n`t work. ( only Anne`s). Dad finished his and was waiting beside our door when the cleaning lady came around the corner. She jumped in surprise and said " I almost drop! I almost drop!"
We left for Marsh Harbour and it was really rough. Now we are back at the government wharf
and it`s miserable in the wind and rain. Gwyn.
We had to hold up the tent `cuz the wind was blowing 25 knots. Mom and dad had to take it down later in the wind and rain. It was the hardest time that they ever had `cuz of the wind.

Jan5th
.The money came today at last! Now we are free to move on! Oops, tomorrow we fill our propane bottle. We bought flippers, masks and snorkels. Mom`s baking bread. It`s amazing how she lasts! The party ashore is just loud enough to be able to hear much craved music. Anne.

Beowulf Revisited.

Grendel`s mum casts a long shadow in the mead hall.

This story of a brave man fighting evil beings is one of the oldest pieces of literature that led eventually to the English Language we speak, read and write today. Full of alliteration and forceful imagery, it is also a story with an interesting cultural sub-text.

Beowulf is the hero of the story: a group of warriors are wassailing the night away in the mead hall. Grendel, a nasty monster from the local mere, breaks in, kills many. Beowulf arrives and lies in wait for a return visit and then grips Grendel so strongly that he is wounded and creeps back home. The monster`s mother who them attacks them in revenge is killed too along with her son by Beowulf at the bottom of the murky lake. Good old Beowulf! That`s the short version. There are hair raising stories like this from all over the world. A new dominant group arrives, kills the locals and then sits down to celebrate. Time passes. The stories about the previous peoples of the land cast them as foul monsters ( it was right to slay them) or they are downgraded in size to be remembered as tricky little people (Fairies, Gnomes etc.) who dwell in more and more remote places ( meres, dark enchanted forests, underground.)and can still bother us at times.

The question is, in the story, whose side are we on? The big warriors or the slimy old people who do not fight fair? It would seem pretty obvious if your culture evolved from a victorious warrior culture. To read stories like this if you did not however, is to be reminded regularly of your inferior status. Maybe you secretly give these stories a different ending. There is Grendel`s mum avenging her son. Go for it mum! Get `im!

One of the interesting elements in Beowulf is the feeling that Grendel is just too nasty and Beowulf too heroic. As it is the victors who tell the story, it looks just a little too obvious that a lot of nastiness is being transferred from Saxon to that sly sneaky fellow and his family. If one reads a little modern history, it sounds like a well worn theme picked up again in Nazi Germany and used against the Jews. "We are the heroic master race. They belong underground."

As it would be an unusual group of humans that had not waged genocidal war against others some time in their past, there is a problem here. Can we feel proud of our ancestors accomplishments and thereby feel good about our way of life that is built on that foundation if we suspect that it is founded on shaky ground? We all live within our cultural traditions because humans think and exist as group animals. Our culture is our group. Without language and a million unquestioned learned attitudes we do not develop properly individually and cannot form a group. So stories like Beowulf have always served to unite the tribe, to give an example of praiseworthy conduct: they have survival built right into them. Like any useful tradition however it can be so easily abused.

Recently on the radio it has been announced that the re-enactment of the French/English battle for Quebec and what would eventually became Canada was cancelled. Too many on the losing side would be upset. And so the adjustments go on as peoples slowly adapt to thinking in more inclusive ways. After all, from the aboriginal point of view, the French and English were both so similar in culture and how they settled native land.

Everyday we hear about the ‘War on Terror’ and it is difficult to sort out what is economics and world trade, what is religion and what is nationalism. It`s a heady brew to which I do not believe there are obvious answers. Oh, it would not be hard to circle the wagons and find clear-cut answers: for leaders to scream ‘our country’ or ‘our religion’ and accuse ‘traitor’ and have us jump automatically into line against the foe, but would this not be stepping back a couple of thousand years or so to the attitudes of those familiar stories like Beowulf?

Amazon Adventure # 12. Green Turtle Cay and Marsh Harbour.

                             Christmas on Green Turtle Cay.

We have found the perfect place to explore and take a break from constantly moving on, tiring days and windy, wet, sleep-challenging nights. We have arrived in the northern Bahamas, at a very pretty and interesting island amid other nearby equally interesting islands. We walk about and the girls make friends with some local children. We do research for their school science project, check out the water catchment on the hilltop, and interview some local people to understand the history ( a very long history by Canadian standards) and how local people deal with development pressures, transportation links and all the other things that we have to think about back home on our own island.

We move on reluctantly to Marsh Harbour, the largest town, to find propane and to arrange for more money to be sent to us from our bank back home ( We have our house rented out to give us income while we are away.)

                                                          Green Turtle Cay

The Journal.
Dec.25th.
‘I`m dreaming of a white Christmas’ but I did n`t get it! Warm and sunny. I woke up and got to making shell necklaces and a shell mouse (for dad). For breakfast we had cornflakes and Christmas fruit bread; then the unwrapping! (Sometimes at the dock you can hear the rapping. Ha Ha.)
Then we went for a walk and met a lot of kids. It was real fun. We had a chicken dinner with rice. Delicious! Afterward dad read to us and then out for a walk and now sleep. ‘I`m dreaming of a white Boxing Day.’ Gwyn.

Dec 26th. Still no snow.
Today we all slept in til 8:00 and me and dad and mom all went in to town and poked into little shops and I bought a shirt that said ‘Ya mon’ on it. Bought some groceries that cost lots of money. Elaine.

Dec.27th.
Today we got up and did homework until lunch then stopped because the hamburger meat was going off. So we had dinner at lunch and vice versa. The people here are really nice, very much like at home. We had a history lesson from Allan ( the owner of The Other Shore Marina) about the islands etc. Very interesting!

Tonight we had a visit from a man from Jacksonville Florida who came aboard and into the tent. He talked to us for a while. You can still smell the rum! On the way out he fell through the gap between the trampoline and the hull. Hauled himself out and limped back to his yacht. Tomorrow we`ll probably leave here for Marsh Harbour. Too bad to leave here but hopefully we`ll meet other people. Anne.

Dec.28th.
This morning we settled up and gassed up and motored for three hours to Marsh Harbour. Passed ‘Don’t Rock’ a balancing sort of landmark. Very shallow in this area. The approach to the harbour had us guessing until close in as it is hidden behind a headland. Did a tour of the harbour and pulled in to a ramshackled government wharf to scout the town for tomorrow`s ‘combined ops.’

The wharf at Marsh Harbour. The locals come shopping by boat.

We found it a big place with more than one of everything. Later we motored across to the Marsh Harbour Marina and then rushed out for an evening walk and found our way to the ‘castle ‘on the hill. Most intriguing sticking above the trees from down below but a bit of a ruin close up.

Dec.29th.
Today we shopped, did a massive laundry, and phoned our home bank for some money. ( we are down to our last $100.00.)

A collection of comments from people looking down at us from the wharf:
A very intelligent boat.
A cute little sucker.
My marriage only lasted two months in a small multihull like this.
Now there is a nice looking boat.
A major worry is the massive cost of everything. A tourist economy. No local fresh fruit and vegetables. Everything imported at great cost from Florida. Bill.

Amazon Adventure # 11. Wind bound, and a Christmas tree.

                                              Christmas at Green Turtle Cay.

The prevailing winds here are the brisk South East Trades in the winter when they are not interrupted by the northers. There is usually a week-long period during which the winds shift around the clock and back to yet another norther. We have been lucky to get this far with the north-west winds but yesterday has shown us how difficult it is to make progress against the easterly winds that have settled in for a while. The outboard engine pops its propellor almost out of the water as Amazon pitches into the waves and it is difficult to make progress. We have found shelter last night all right but it looks like we may be here in this isolated place until the wind shifts again. We are almost out of propane and it is almost Christmas.


The journal:

Dec. 23rd.
Last night we had to put the tent away again because although we are in the lee of some wooded slopes the wind still jumps over from time to time. We slept under the tarp and under the stars (and what stars!) until it started to rain. Just a little shower ( pull tarp over head).

By morning the wind had shifted from east to south-east and was up to 20 knots. We motored out and tried but came back after half an hour of no progress to our shelter and nosed into a little strip of sand beach between coral rocks. Heather and the girls went exploring and found some kind of bitter oranges and a Christmas tree ( Casuarina pine) which got lashed to the bow. I tried to make a bow drill to make holes in the shells so the girls could make necklaces. I painted the name AMAZON on the bows and sterns.

 Storm bound and 'living off the land'.

Some Bahamians came by in a speed boat and checked to see if we were ok.(When we saw them stop and turn toward us it was a PIRATE moment for a while until they turned out to be offering to help push us off the beach). The wind died by this evening but too late to move before dark. Heather is baking bread. We saw a dolphin today that came right up and visited with us. Bill.

Dec24th.
This most important day began with Bill and I huddled under the tarp as usual trying to decide if each pause in the rain squalls was long enough for us to make a run for it up the coast of Little Abaco as the winds were slowly shifting toward the south-west. Quickly our damp bedding was stowed, our oilies located and a promise given to the girls that we would stop for breakfast when we reached the sheltered side of the island. The engine would n`t start! Damp again! Out came the oil spray for the wires and eventually it started to our shrieks of joy!

At first we made good speed along the coast, then it appeared that the wind had not shifted that much and it was going to be another fight against wind and wave. It was after 12:00 before we found a sheltered cove over a beautiful coral reef and made some hot tuna sandwiches - and ran out of propane! We decided to sail across the water to Green Turtle Cay as it was closer than Treasure Cay and might have propane. A wet, exciting ride for those on deck.

Arrived on the beach of New Plymouth ( the town on Green Turtle Cay), a delightful old world town of pastel coloured houses and streets the width of sidewalks. The girls and I did a quick scout - I did some shopping on the basis of ‘no propane’ and we did the Christmas shopping. It was fun. Then back on the boat to find a marina. We eventually found ‘The Other Shore Club’ and took the last slip left that was too shallow for a normal boat ( there was ‘room at the Inn’, - just.) We could tie up, use the showers and the owners, Trudy and Allan, would lend us a propane bottle while we are here.

 Room at the shallow end of the Other Shore Club to pitch our tent.


Trudy sent us meatballs and spaghetti for supper - delicious and such a boon for our depleted stores. We felt welcomed and good. A shower made us feel better and then all of us but Gwyn headed out clean and well dressed for the Anglican Church Christmas Eve service. Gwyn elected to stay at home and sleep (and it turned out, write her yearly letter to Santa). She had already put a branch of our Christmas tree against the mast and decorated it with the tinsel she had painstakingly cut all day from tin foil, and candles left over from birthdays. She and Bill made a star for the top. She popped some corn for stringing a garland but then sensibly ate it all instead.

Gwyn`s Christmas tree and letter to Santa.( and his reply)

We church goers made our way along narrow roads amid popping fireworks. We followed the waterfront around, past the Baptist Church until we reached St. Peter`s Anglican. Here we had an experience reminiscent of a Christmas long ago on the Island of Cariacou in the West Indies. The singing was wonderfully enthusiastic and the people watched all engrossed. Altogether this was a day to remember.

Returning to the boat, listening to the parade developing on the streets behind us. Saw unripe bananas growing on a tree and all sorts of things that need further exploring tomorrow. Heather.

Amazon Adventure # 10. Sailing on the Bahama Banks. West End to Crab Cay.

Our first Desert Island in the Fish Cays.

Once out of the deep water channel between Florida and the Bahamas we have entered a different world: one that months before when we were planning this ‘Peter Duck Expedition’ had seemed designed especially for our family`s desire for coral islands, palm trees and tropical temperatures. Apart from the chilly and damp northers that are still chasing after us, we are at last beginning to experience a very new and interesting environment. Life on our open decked catamaran is very exposed to the elements. We are still toughening up.

The Bahama Islands are the little bits of limestone and coral that stick up on the limestone plateau that is just below the surface of the sea. (Very much like Florida would look like if global warming were to raise the sea level by sixty feet or so.) Dividing it up are ‘tongues of the ocean’ -deep sea canyons. Most of the Bahamas are coral reefs and underwater sand dunes; all together these extensive shallows are called banks. They are all visible below Amazon as we sail briskly along in the crystal clear water. We peer down through the shadow between our hulls to see the fishy inhabitants of this world carrying on their lives oblivious to the whoosh of our craft skimming along on the ‘sky’ far above them.

We are navigating by compass and chart and must estimate our speed and make allowances for currents that may speed us up, slow us down or sweep us sideways. The Cays are low and on this part of the voyage, widely spaced. They only pop over the horizon when we are very close. What we have going for us is our shallow draught (18 inches) which allows us to make mistakes and take some short cuts that keeled boats cannot attempt.

From West End (bottom left) to Sale Cay (top right).

The journal:
Dec.20th.
Today we woke up on the move. We were already out of sight of land. Dad had realized that we had a long trip to Great Sale Cay so mom and dad had gotten up and put up the jenny (Genoa) and we left Indian Cay sailing downwind. We went east 40 miles and we got to Sale Cay at 7:30 and while we were trying to get into a bay for the night through the shoals, Elaine lost Hippolyta`s paddle. Dad said not to try to get it back. We kept trying to get through when mercy oh, we got into deeper water and we put down the anchors but no take! So we kept on going into the bay till finally we anchored ( in the dark).
Mom has finally cut my hair so she is happy. Now homework. GOTTA GOOOO . Gwyn.

Anchored in the bay at Sale Cay.
Dec. 21st.
Today we started out from Sale Cay; out and around the island and off to Allen Cay. Us kids stayed below and read while mom and dad put in another hard day steering and sailing. At about 1;30 we went off course and ended up at Fish Cay. A beautiful island with palm trees, sand beach, coral rock and a beautiful sunset. Our first desert island! We spent this evening trying to climb up palm trees and get a coconut down but with no success. Dad took some pictures and fixed the dinghy. We had dinner. Mom baked and we all retired to bed after another long tiring day. Elaine.
PS. We saw a whole bunch of dolphins swimming around us when we were leaving Great Sale Cay. One was swimming right under our bow!!

That Coconut is a looong way up!

Ferrying the crew ashore.
Dec.22nd.
We have been in the Bahamas for 4 days now. Seems like a lifetime! Probably because the nightlife is just as exciting as the daytime. Mom and dad have n`t had a good night`s sleep in five days ( including the crossing of the Gulf Stream) Yesterday where we were anchored ( Fish Cay) was a great shelter from the wind. Unfortunately for us the wind shifted in the night from north to east. It poured and poured before it changed. In the early morning they up anchored and moved into the lee of another island. This did n`t have palm trees but was a great lump of coral. When you stood on top and looked across you could see the waves crashing on the barrier reef on the edge of the banks just to the north of us. All of us but dad went shell collecting and he was pretty dismayed at some of the big looking shells. ( where to stow them) .

Fish Cays ( top left) to Crab Cay and little Abaco Island (bottom right).

We shoved off and headed for Allens Cay but the wind was extremely strong against us. We got blow sideways into the top of Hawksbill Cay. Revving the engine, we headed the waves and started to move towards the east. We stopped for the night in a little channel between Little Abaco Island and Crab Cay. Hopefully, Treasure Cay tomorrow. Anne.