Survival 151

How did two 80+ year old nuns end up sitting in their lawn chairs, wearing their bathing suits and drinking Kalik at Baker’s Bay?

Now remember, what happens in Abaco stays in Abaco. No calls to the Vatican, please.

I am about to share with you my most valued advice. A treasured piece of advice I share with only my closest confidants. It is………………………………………………..

How to throw a great party in the islands.

What?

You say you’ve heard that all you have to do is make an announcement on the radio and people will come from islands unseen just to party.

Damn! Somebody must have leaked my secret.

The cap’n and I had been hiding out at Baker’s Bay for about 3 weeks and were running dangerously low on the essentials of life like coconut rum, anejo rum, spiced rum, dark rum, light rum and just plain old rum. We were contemplating doing something desperate like pulling up anchor and heading to civilization and I was looking forward to putting some clothes on when the cap’n came up with one of his brilliant ideas.

“Let’s have a party!”

“Honey, remember how we just discussed the fact that we don’t have any booze. Can you tell me how many bottles of booze I’m holding up?” I patiently ask my obviously sun-addled cap’n.

“Uh…, Zero?” guesses my proud cap’n.

“Exactly!” I sneer. “Which is exactly why we can’t have a friggin’ party!”

The cap’n waggles his finger at me and raises a diabolical eyebrow.

"Just watch."

He picks up the VHF mike and makes our distress call.

“Party at Baker’s Bay at sunset.”

Later that afternoon I’m dessicating in the cockpit and contemplating which finger I’m going to prick to suck life-saving sustenance from. The capn’s finger, of course. His blood has gotta be at least 90 proof. I’m licking my cracked peeling lips when a mirage appears on the horizon. White billowy, puffy things shimmering on the waves. I lift my weak skeletal arms and give out a pitiful croak.

“What the hell?” “They’re real!”

I jump up and holler down at the cap’n.

“Put some clothes on, for Chrissake!”

We’re saved.

An hour later there are close to 40 dinghies pulled up on shore. There is live karaoke, thanks to our best friend Tom on sv Becky Thatcher, there is meat sizzling on the grill and best of all there is rum.

Glorious, makes-life-worth-living, rum!

And that is how two 80+ year old nuns ended up in their lawn chairs, wearing their bathing suits and drinking Kaliks at Baker’s Bay.

Mary and the Cap’n got thirsty.

P.S. We weren't sure if the cap'n was channeling his inner Elvis in the lower pic or if he was having some sort of seizure. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

P.P.S. These pics are stolen from the website of Patrick on Synchronicity. I'll make you get in touch somehow, Pat.

Paradise Lost

“Memories are the playground of the mind.”
(From a fortune cookie given to me by a very special someone.)

From the log of Agur’s Wish:

January 6, 2004

As we approach the deserted beach we spy structures peeking through and, occasionally, towering above the dense foliage. We pull up to the abandoned dock. Alongside are the remains of pens that we imagine used to house winsome sea creatures forced into captivity for the pleasure of the inhabitants of this deserted stretch of island. Legend has it that one of these charming creatures escaped after being abandoned and left in the pens to die after the former occupants disappeared and never returned. Now locals tell how on sunlit days they catch glimpses of her and her offspring frolicking in the sparkling turquoise water that is their rightful home.

We creep our way into the dense jungle. The tall casuarinas filter the sunlight into shadows and their needles muffle our footsteps on the well worn path. The only sounds are the calls of the birds and insects and the roar of the ocean crashing on a beach we have yet to discover.

“Wow!” the cap’n whispers.

Before us is a huge amphitheater built with rough hewn logs. What did they use it for? Ancient rituals? Human sacrifices?

As we continue along the paths we come upon more ruins. Large open air structures perhaps used for communal meals and celebrations. A large tower that may have been used to spy approaching enemies or to send signals to neighboring islands. Rusting modes of transportation including a cart on a rail that might have been used to transport the weaker members of the tribe.

Eating and cooking utensils are strewn about. It looks as if they left in the middle of a big party. Where did they go. What happened to them?



“We could just settle here.” says the cap’n. “We could live off the sea and the land like Brooke Shields and Chris What-ever-his-name is in Blue Lagoon. We’d never have to put a stitch on!”

I actually consider it for a moment…until I swat my 457th no see-um.

And always that distant roaring ocean is calling us. We look for a break in the verdant overgrowth that will allow us access to this elusive beach but can find none.

We head back to the beach to see if we can find a path there. We come across two more settlements. These are small and rudimentary. Obviously camps for transient tribes in search of shelter and sustenance for a short time on their voyage to somewhere else. Each has left his mark. Their homelands are far-flung and their destinations unknown.

Finally we come upon another path. We wind our way through mangroves and past a tree adorned with an array of moldering footwear.

Finally we reach.

Endless beach and ocean greet us.

A beach that is unblemished except for what the ocean has cast upon her shores.

We are full-up with the wonder of that majestic ocean. She made this island and the reefs that protect it. She and her creatures are the only true stewards of this place.

But for awhile we’ll make it ours.


We were very blessed to have called that place our own for a time. Of course, we shared it with a lot of people who also thought of it as their own. Times change though. And now that place is just a fabled memory for those of us that loved it.

Remember though, even if we can’t call it ours anymore, we still have the responsibility to act as stewards to it and places like it.

Yes, there are still magical places out there.

NOW GO OUT AND MAKE SOME MEMORIES!

P.S. Jumping off my soapbox now. Can anybody guess where in the world Agur’s Wish was on January 6, 2004?