Happening in George Town

The boating season in George Town extends for the entire non-hurricane period in the Caribbean, December through May. During that time a couple of thousand boats pass through this cruising intersection heading back and forth between the Caribbean and U.S. mainland. A large number go no further, just congregating for the unmatched beauty of the waters, sunshine, balmy temperatures, white sandy beaches, and outstanding camaraderie among boaters.

George Town, Great Exuma, Bahamas, is more of an annual happening than just another adventurous boating destination. At any one time there may be hundreds of boats in several anchorages surrounding the approximately two square mile Elizabeth Harbor area. Four hundred and fifty boats were anchored in the harbor on Sabra’s arrival in March, at the height of the season. During most of the season, the boating population easily exceeds the one thousand or so Bahamian natives. By the time Sabra left, late in the season, there were less than 250 at anchor. These 1996 figures represent a doubling of the boat population since records were kept starting in 1986. Some say it’s getting too crowded and spoiled.

Christl joined me as we sailed down the 100 mile Exuma Island chain from Nassau along the shallow western banks. You would have to be a poet, a painter, and a world class photographer to accurately portray the breathtaking beauty of Bahamian waters. With an amps-and-volts engineering background my attempts at describing the waters are language challenged, at best.

The waters display a dazzling array of changing colors shimmering in the ripples around Sabra’s hull. The Bahama Banks are only about two fathoms deep and the white sands of the sea floor are transparently visible through the aquamarine tinted, crystal-clear waters. The pale blue sky and puffy white clouds are a perfect counterpoint to the lucid brightness of the waters. As the depths vary so do the range of colors, especially when sailing close to shore where the waters turn ultramarine then turquoise eventually washing up on bleached white sand beaches. Occasionally the bright colors give way to ominously dark brown patches over coral heads─reminders to the captain to pay attention to his or her navigation.

It’s the transition from deep, steel-blue and grey ocean waters to the shallow, turquoise banks with over seven hundred islands and cays and secluded sandy beaches that make the Bahamas so special. The waters are gin-clear, making them deliciously inviting. It’s ironic that what draws boaters to these waters is their sterility, their lifelessness. Unlike sediment rich continental waters filled with nutrients and life─but looking turbid and dirty─these waters are a “desert” except for conchs, an occasional star fish, or manta ray.

Another irony of the 100,000 square miles of wide-open Bahamian waters is the large number of boats on exactly the same course. With the advent of precision satellite navigation, boaters seem to be crossing large expanses of water, far from the sight of land, on narrow, invisible highways. Everyone seems to be following the same set of “waypoints,” rarely straying from each other’s path.

On the way to George Town, Sabra followed the crowd to Allen’s Cay to watch fearless, prehistoric looking rock iguanas acting quite domesticated and looking for tourist handouts. Then it was off to Hawksbill Cay with its long, desolate, sweeping white beaches.

While anchored off Hawksbill Cay with only three other boats, a rare event took place overhead. I came on deck around 2 a.m. for a routine check of the anchor and saw a streaking, comet-like spectacle in the northern sky. It had a very long tail, almost the length of the Big Dipper. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. Next morning a fellow boater came by who had also seen it and said he thought it was a night launching of the space shuttle. That did not sound right to me. Later that morning, I checked in with a friend in Boston over our morning short-wave radio schedule and learned that it was the comet Hyakutake. It was making big news in New England. Fortunately, Sabra was surrounded by a mere 30 watts of weak anchor lights compared to giga-watts of lighting spoiling the view in Boston. For the next couple of nights we had a spectacular show of the comet as it slowly circled the North Star along with the other heavenly constellations.

After Hawksbill Cay, it was on to Warderick Wells Cay and the Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park, followed by a stop at a small picturesque cove on Little Farmers Cay, and then a day long passage in deeper Atlantic sound waters east of the Exumas to George Town. Transitions between the shallow banks and the much deeper Atlantic sounds are dramatic in the Bahamas. The colors change abruptly from light to dark shades of blue as depths plummet sometimes from two fathoms to 1,000 fathoms in less than a mile or two.

As a destination or an interim stopover, George Town offers all the important amenities for cruisers: an airport for crew changes and visitors; a supermarket with a convenient dinghy dock (also a good place to receive FAXes and make e-mail calls); several restaurants ranging from pricey continental to pricey local Bahamian conch and endangered sea turtle dishes; a small marina for diesel, water, and laundromat services; a couple of hotels; a so-so telephone service; several market stalls for local handicrafts and T-shirts; and a convenient mid-town patio bar & restaurant for meeting and carousing with fellow boaters.

The favorite watering hole at Two Turtles Inn has a barometer hanging from the rafters. It’s a piece of rope, knotted at the end, and dangling in front of a sign which reads:

Rope Still, Calm

Rope Moves, Windy

Rope Wet, Rain

Rope White, Snow

Rope Invisible, Fog

Rope Gone, Hurricane

It is in keeping with the what-me-worry atmosphere of the islands.

Cruisers come here not to adventure in the Bahamas, mix with the locals, or go sightseeing. For the most part, they come to see each other. Many have made this trek annually for many years. It’s a grand reunion each year, and the numbers keep growing. It’s an annual boaters’ Woodstock. I would guess the median age is over 50. Those are the lucky ones with time, good health, and money to enjoy “paradise.” And they keep coming back to enjoy the weather and visit with their friends.

[Based on an article first published by the author in Living Aboard, March 1997]