Stepping on a Sea Urchin

Last week, I blogged about Angel's medical emergency, but I'm overdue to fill you in on mine . . .

As regular readers may recall, the end of July was a fun, but particularly hectic, time for me.  During a brief lull one Sunday, Beau went out diving (free-diving and spear-fishing) for the day, and I decided to treat myself, too.

French Toast

I slept in a little - anything past 6:30am is a luxury!  When I woke up, I was craving French Toast, but I didn't have any bread in the house.  I used that as an excuse to do the decadent thing that sounded fun to me - I took myself out to breakfast!  Just a short golf cart ride away, I went to the local marina/restaurant and enjoyed a sit-down breakfast while greeting various friends who were working or passing through.

One friend joined me for a while and suggested I join her group on a boating excursion.  I hesitated, with laundry on the line and thinking of the leisurely things I could do back home before joining Beau and the guys for fish-cleaning camaraderie later.  But it was a beautiful day, and it sounded fun.  "We're not even packing lunch," she said, "so we'll be back by early afternoon."  That clinched it.

Boat Ride

After a brief stop home to take care of Angel and change into a swimsuit, off we went.  What a glorious day!  Our small group ended up in a particularly beautiful area of shallow water and sand bars.  We anchored the boat, floated a cooler to a sliver of sand in the midst of the shallow sea, pushed a sun umbrella into the water's bottom, and proceeded to float in bliss.

Knowing from prior experience that I should not attempt to "keep up with" my girlfriend and her copious amounts of wine, I had a splash of wine with my club soda and enjoyed a spritzer while we hung out in the water.

After a while, we noticed a friend out on his property on the small private island nearby.  My girlfriend and I left the others and swam over to say hello.  After chatting, he invited us to cross over the little channel to his main property and come up - the others had pulled the boat around to his dock and would join us.

Uh-Oh

As I waded through chest-deep water, I was surprised by how strong the current was in the little channel.  Because of that, I was perhaps stepping more forcefully as I made my way across.  All of a sudden, "OWWW!"  I had stepped on something sharp.  I commented to my friends, but we figured I'd cut my foot on a conch shell or something, and we kept going toward shore.  However, the pain started to worsen, and I couldn't walk so well.  I lifted up my feet and started to swim.  But my leg was kinda seizing up, and my brain was feeling a little muddled by the sudden pain, so I wasn't able to swim as strong as usual, and I felt myself being carried away by the current.  

I called out to my girlfriend and was able to grab her hand.  She pulled me to the rocky edge of the property, and our other friend suggested we take a look.  I lifted my foot out of the water.  The entire sole was covered by grey dots.  "Oh my God," he said, "you stepped on a sea urchin.  But I've never seen so many!"

After nearly three decades around these parts, I've never stepped on a sea urchin.  I've only admired them while snorkeling.  They are roundish, come in a variety of sizes and colors, and are covered with porcupine-like needles or spines.  Images and info about these creatures can be found here.  All of a sudden, I had a whole new appreciation for them.

My leg had totally seized up by this point, and my friends told me not to put any weight on my foot.  Apparently, when I stepped on the unseen sea urchin, the spines broke off in my foot.  So, with one friend pulling each arm, I floated while they dragged me over to his dock.

Our other friends had joined us by this time.  I'm sure I was the picture of grace as I crawled up the steps in my swimsuit.  Once we reached the landing (where our friend has a spectacular outdoor living room), I collapsed on a couch. I asked them to call Beau and let him know where I was.  The time had gotten away and it was mid-afternoon, and I knew he'd be looking for me to join him at the fish-cleaning bench, and my cell phone and stuff was still in the boat.

Treatment
 
They reached Beau and turned to tending to me.  Now, the well-known home remedy to relieve the intense pain from a sea urchin sting is for someone to PEE on it!  I was hurting enough that I welcomed that.  Alas, none of my friends cared to oblige (and it didn't occur to me until later that I may have been able to maneuver that feat by myself?)  Instead, they brought me a basin of fresh water with Epsom Salt, and I began to soak my foot.

I was proud that my friends were all calling me brave.  I hadn't shed a tear or whined too much about the pain.  BUT IT HURT.  We counted the grey spots on my foot, and I had NINETEEN holes where sharp spines had pushed into my foot and broken off.  Good times.

In addition to the Epsom Salt, my friends decided it would be a good idea to medicate me by plying me with alcohol.  One friend had prescription painkillers, but I had the presence of mind to figure that was not a great idea for me.  And yet, I permitted myself to be liquored up.  Not good.

From here on, the story gets a bit fuzzy, as did the pain.  I vaguely recall wine, champagne, vodka and who knows what else being poured.  I recall the sky darkening as day faded to night.  I remember waking up and being in a different location on the deck, still salty and in my swimsuit, but covered with a sarong wrap, and I could hear my friends in the other room.

If this had been my little island, I would have gotten myself home from the inception of this mess.  But I didn't want to impose on my friends' time by interrupting their fun to take me home.  At some point, however, I no longer cared.  In my inebriated state, I was a little out of my head!  I was crying and calling out Beau's name.  So much for not crying and conducting myself in a calm manner.  I just wanted to go home!

Homeward Bound
 
My next memory is hearing Beau's voice in the distance.  He's here!!  I started crying and calling out to him.  My girlfriend came over to reassure me, but also to tell me to get it together!  Beau walked onto the porch and saw me lying there, a mess, and said "Oh Lord."  My friend showed him my foot, and we started to head for Beau's boat.  I couldn't hobble very well, so Beau ended up carrying me to the boat to take me back to our island a few miles away.

My next memory is being in the nurse's office.  Although it was evening by now, Beau had called her and taken me to the clinic.  So there I was, lying on the examining table in my bikini, and trying to act like I wasn't a total wreck.  The nurse cleaned my foot and used tweezers to pull out two of the spines that were near the surface.  WOW did THAT hurt.  We both thought it best not to dig any deeper.  The spines are known to come out on their own later and/or be absorbed into the body.

The nurse gave me some painkillers and antibiotics and wrapped my foot.  Heading home with Beau, he stopped to pick up some food that he'd ordered at a local restaurant and insisted that I eat, then I fell straight into bed.  Poor Beau.  That had to be a test of his patience as well as his care-taking skills!

In dire need of a pedicure, but that's the least of my concerns.

The next morning, the pain had diminished.  I believe that is typical, but I also think any remaining pain was overshadowed by the massive hangover I was enduring.  I managed to shower off the prior day's salt.  Then I spent the rest of the day on the couch, with a brief visit to the nurse for a follow-up check, and alternating rounds of soaking my foot in peroxide.

Angel providing moral support during a foot soak.

Overnight, the pronounced grey spots had changed to faded red spots.  Thankfully, no spines were in my toes or on the ball of my foot, so I was able to hobble around for the next few days on my tiptoes.  The pain was gone, except when I put weight on my foot, and over the course of the next week or so, that subsided, too.

Hard to see all 19 when this was taken, but - trust me - they are there!

This non-dramatic photo undermines how much pain those little suckers caused.

The spines never did "pop out."  Who knows - one friend told me he had some come out of his foot a YEAR later!  I picked out two of them a few weeks ago.  They were so small it was incredible how much pain they had caused.  As for the rest, I think some have been absorbed.  In other spots, I can still feel hard little bumps deep down, but I'm going to just let them do their thing at this point.  

There's no pain at all now.

Well, except for the embarrassing memory of the day.  As we say around here, "What a mess!"

A Perfect Day (Fishing, Snorkeling, Conch Salad)

A few weekends ago, I enjoyed A Perfect Day.

It was a weekend morning and absolutely beautiful!

Morning sky.

Regatta Photo Tour

My Dearest Better Lifers, thanks for your patience as I get caught up after a whirlwind regatta!

As you know, I've had Regatta Fever and have been posting Champion Sailboat Journals, Sailing Videos Clips and more.  Finally, I have sifted through more than 600 personal photographs of the race week to cull them to a far-more-manageable 59 to share with you.  These pics capture the essence of an incredible week.  Of course, NOTHING can convey the excitement, adrenaline, pride and sheer pleasure of being there, but I hope to give you a taste.

Just one picture of many you'll see in the Facebook photo journal.

Better Life Facebook fans got a sneak peek of the pictures.  (Join us by going to the Blog's Facebook page and click to "Like" the Facebook Page!)  It seemed an easier way to post so many photos, and I also wanted to give an early preview treat to those of you who follow the Blog on Facebook and Twitter.

So, today's blog post is a compilation of photo journal excerpts from the race week for you.  All pictures have captions accompanying them, which you'll see if you open the photos individually.  Start your photo tour here! (via www.facebook.com/IslandBlog)

Now that Regatta has officially come to a close, I am back to island living:  going out for junkanoo drums and chicken souse during election celebration; mopping up from floods after three solid days of rain; battling the mosquitoes that are on the attack after the rains; pulling ticks off my little island dog; cleaning house; cooking meals; doing laundry; catching up on emails and writing projects; dealing with taxes, doctors, health insurance, bill-paying, family requests and the usual "life stuff" that follows us to every corner of the world; catching up with friends near and far; planning summer activities for local children; and always, always, always taking time to admire the peaceful surroundings and remind myself how lucky I am and to keep Choosing the Better Life every single day!  

Have a great weekend, friends.

Return from Regatta & Sailing Video

Hellooooooo, Better Lifers!  I've missed you!  

Regatta was wonderful, and I'll fill you in soon.  Weather was pretty tricky - the same front that saturated Florida also doused the Bahamas.  Thankfully, Mother Nature granted enough of a respite that the boats were able to race, but then she kicked in again and delayed our return by several days.  Upon my return, I was greeted with a flooded downstairs in my own home.  Thankfully, my visiting mother had stanched the tide.  I helped with the cleanup and enjoyed the remaining days of her visit.  

It's also been hectic around here as passions run high for the Bahamian national election which takes place today.  Campaigning has been at a fevered pitch.  In this instance, I'm glad that I CAN'T vote and am able to remain peacefully neutral!  

Now, I'm wading through 600+ photographs to cull them down to share the Regatta experience with you.  Meanwhile, here's a video treat . . .

Never seen a Bahamian sloop sail?  Never been to a national regatta?  Never bounced along in the chase boat in the heart of the action?  This will give you a taste of it all!

I remain silent on the video, hoping you could hear the men calling out to one another on the boat.  But, the camera didn't pick that up - voices must have been carried away by the strong winds, which you DO hear.  This was taken during a practice sail on the last day (Saturday, April 28) of the series race.  It was choppy, windy and cloudy, so the typically-turquoise water of the harbor looks dark, too.

The chase boat follows along in case the sailboat needs anything.  (E.g., switch sail size, add or remove lead ballast, etc.)  Once the race starts, the chase boat can't pass anything back and forth, but we stay nearby to follow the action and be available in case anything happens.

What you'll see is a classic Bahamian sloop, all wooden hand-construction, 28 feet on deck, with a 60 foot mast and large boom, the largest A-Class type.  The sailors are all Bahamian, except for the maximum of four foreigners.  The man at the stern (back) is working the main sail and talking to the man just in front of him, the skipper who controls the tiller and captains the boat.  The man standing at the bow (front) is the bowman, the eyes of the boat who calls back to the Captain what he sees so they can strategize.  The other men have various roles, too.  Most apparent in the video are the men shifting their weight on the pry - the long board sticking off the side of the boat - to serve as human ballast and make adjustments as the race proceeds.

You may notice that only men are on this boat.  While that is still the dominant gender in Bahamian sailing, women crew sometimes, too.  Our local C-Class boat even boasts a champion female skipper.

My favorite part of this clip is that it shows you how the sailboats tack, or make a turn.  Here, the boat is on a starboard tack - the wind is coming from the right (starboard) side.  When the captain gives the command, the crew slacks the sail, slides the pry to the next side, swings the boom over, catches the wind in the sail again and the men scramble out on the pry to balance out on the boat.  This is a pretty calm tack.  Sometimes it can be a fierce scramble, especially during a race if another boat is right there.  Exciting stuff!

Have a wonderful day, and I'll share more with you soon.

Regatta Farewell

Dearest Readers, consider this my TEMPORARY farewell.  Regatta fever continues.  Now my adrenalin is really racing as we are about to set sail!  Literally.  We are leaving on a friend’s sailboat and leisurely headed down to the Regatta.  (My family is visiting and taking care of the house and Angel, and I’ll be delighted to spend more time together upon my return.)

I won’t bother taking my computer with me, and I don’t have any mobile gadgets other than a very basic cell phone.  Upon leaving the States, I gave up the old Blackberry!  While Bahamians also have all the latest iphones, ipads, etc., part of my Better Life is controlling myself against the lure of constant-internet-everything.  So, while I’d love to update you periodically from the middle of it all, I will remain unplugged and “in the moment” and just enjoy it!  Of course, I’ll be snapping photos like crazy and will fill you in upon my return.  Since I’m going to be unplugged, any new comments you make won’t post until my return.  Thank you for your patience, and I’ll certainly respond then.

Have a wonderful couple of weeks and I’ll talk to you early May!  Hugs and Better Life blessings to each of you!

At Home With A Champion Sailboat

Regatta fever continues!  While I ready myself for the trip, I thought you might enjoy some journal excerpts from our local sailboat from earlier this year . . .

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Gently, I bob in the turquoise waters of my home in the out islands of the Bahamas.  All 28 on-deck feet of my wooden hull bask in the new year’s sun, while my seven foot draw drifts on a single keel below and my 60 foot mast stands regally above.  The massive canvas sheet which serves as my mainsail is drying out on land nearby.  Thanks to my caring and competent crew, I am securely tied to the government dock, and I float above conch shells, small fish and the occasional nurse shark.  I am resting after stretching my sea legs over the holidays.  I raced four times over new year’s weekend – winning, every time!

The first three races were a series in the annual local regatta.  I sailed, along with my ever-present-contender sister boat from here.  We were also joined this year by another competitive A-Class sailboat.  What a delightful challenge!  This annual regatta is a more relaxed race because the purpose is to give all of the holiday visitors a taste of Bahamian sloop racing, even hosting visitors as guest crew on all three A-Class sailboats.  However, even “relaxed” races are taken seriously by Bahamian sailors, and we raced our hearts out.  Our guest crews performed well, and everyone had a great deal of fun on a gorgeous day.  My captain also took a lot of teasing about me being so fast.  “Do you have a motor in there?”  “Why don’t you take it just a little bit easy on the other boats?”  We just smile and know that we sail as best we can sail, every single time, in the great tradition of the great captains that charted the course of Bahamian sloop racing.

A few days later, I raced again, this time with visiting boats in the local New Year’s Day Cruising Regatta.  For this race, I was the only Bahamian sloop, racing against other sailboats – 20 foot to 80 foot – and even some catamarans since monohull and multihull vessels race together in this unique local Cruising Regatta.  Two especially beautiful sailboats provided some excitement with a near-collision on the start line – yikes! – but the skilled captains and crew averted catastrophe.  After that, the race was fairly straight-forward.  It was a cloudy day, but the winds were just right for my large sail.  Since humans comprise a large percentage of my ballast, we have them stacked up on the wooden pries perched off my side, hanging on for dear life, and then scrambling to the other side every time we tack.  And when I am on a strong reach and keeling hard, oh how my crew flies high in the air at the end of the pry.  Of course, when winds fall out suddenly, these fine folks often get dunked into the sea until I get myself righted.  

During this particular race, sailors were spared and mostly dry except for a few dangling legs.  Your own Better Life Blogger participated in her first race and clung tightly to my pry.  She knew that her primary responsibility was NOT TO FALL OFF!  In Bahamian racing, if a crew member falls overboard, the boat must turn around to retrieve the person, which of course means lots of lost time and dooms a boat’s hopes for winning.  Thankfully, everyone remained aboard and did well.  One of the catamarans gave me a run for my money towards the end, pressing too close for comfort, but I was able to hold steady and cross the finish line in first place.

During our local regattas, all of the races take place on a triangular course in the harbor just west of the public beach.  From here, the shoreline gives me views of the big marina, rental cottages, health clinic, a restaurant, a bar, a bakery, a few small stores, the church and the brightly colored homes dotting the Village and other areas of the island.  But today, I rest up near the shore, mast standing proudly while the rigging gently slaps against it in the wakes from passing boats.  I know I must rest.  Regatta (around here, there’s only one regatta that gets that shorthand – the National Family Island Regatta in George Town every April) is coming up in a few short months.  I will be ready.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

I was dozing in the spectacular rays of the setting sun when a flurry of activity called me to attention this evening.  The “mail boat” – one of several cargo ships contracted by the Bahamian government to deliver mail and freight to the out islands – had pulled in to the government dock on its return to Nassau.  Very graciously, the mail boat planned to use its large crane to remove my immense mast, and the mast of my sister boat, until time to re-set them for Regatta.  My captain and crew bustled around, loosing me from my current mooring and pulling me around to the other side of the mail boat.  My sister boat and I took turns and oh-so-carefully had our masts removed.  The crew closed down all the rigging, then wrapped everything tightly with a line.  My captain looped a thick rope on the crane’s hook and raised the loop around my mast up to the middle.  From below deck, one of the crew hammered loose the supports for my mast.  Then, as the mail boat captain shouted directions to the crane operator, the crane began to pull and lift, while my captain and a crew member guided my mast up, up, up.  All sixty feet leaned long over the bow of the mail boat and tilted down toward land.  About 10 men from the crews hurried to the dock to ease the mast gently onto the ground.  Oops, it bounced a bit, but my talented boat builders made all parts of me strong, so it was just fine!

From there, the guys carried my mast up onto shore where it will wait for me to join it in the boatyard for a fresh coat of paint before Regatta.  Meanwhile, my captain and other crew moved me back around to tie up at the government dock and batten down all my hatches.  It was a chilly, windy evening, but the shouts and laughter of everyone warmed every wooden plank in my body.  There is a lot of love on this island, and in this country, for sailing, and I am so thankful for the special care given to me by my owners, sailors and fans!

Blogger’s Post-Script

This beloved sailboat proceeded to rest until a few weeks ago.  The men hauled her up onto shore, set braces against the hull so she would stand upright, and proceeded to give her a fresh paint (turning themselves as blue as smurfs in the process).  They then slid her back into the water – about twelve strong men pushing from each side – and she was anchored by the dock again.  A week or two ago, the mail boat set her mast – reversing the process described in the journal above – and the crew rigged her up and placed the lead ballast.  She’s now ready for a tow to Regatta where she will race in all her glory!

 

Regatta Primer

I HAVE REGATTA FEVER!  And you're going to be hearing about it, so I should give you the background scoop now . . .

All over the world, of course, regattas - or sailboat races - take place.  Even within the Bahamas, various regattas occur during the year.  However, in this context, "Regatta" is shorthand for the one-and-only, like-no-other, national sailing championship of the Bahamas that occurs in George Town every April and is more formerly known as the National Family Island Regatta.

Like any sport with a high profile throughout the country, sailboat racing in the Bahamas brings with it fierce competition and immense pride.  The basic rules are that the boats must be Bahamian-made and Bahamian-owned.  They are wooden sloops, approximately 28 feet long, with a seven foot draw, a huge boom and towering 60 foot masts.  The inside of the hull is mostly empty and is also where the crew stores its lead ballast.  The moveable ballast allows the crew to add or remove weight as needed.  Additionally, real live people serve as ballast!  Wooden planks - the pry - lie across the width of the boat and slide from side to side.  The crew pile up on the pry to add weight to the opposite side as the strength of the wind in the sail pushes the boat on a hard lean.  (This is one of the most exciting parts of Bahamian sloop racing!)  The boats harken back to the boats of traditional Bahamian fishermen, and they carry tradition and honor along with the thrill of sport.

The island where I live has a strong tradition of boat-building, skilled craftsmanship, knowledgeable sailors, brilliant racers and championship boats and crews.  The boats of this island are a huge source of local pride and camaraderie.

Regatta offers races in multiple categories, based on the size of the boat.  "A Class" are the largest (28 foot) and our island usually sends a couple A-Class boats to compete, along with an occasional B-Class, a champion C-Class and various others.  I won't attempt to describe the rules because I would surely miss something. If you're a true boater looking for the technical descriptions, the official Regatta website posts the rules and regulations.

Rather, my love of Regatta focuses on the sheer THRILL of the experience, coupled with the community bonding aspect.  My beau and many friends are avid sailors.  They race together and on competing boats, which serves as great fodder for bickering and trash talk at the local bars throughout the year.  But now, as Regatta looms next week, the chatter is at fevered pitch.

I'm so doggone excited!  My beau and the other sailors will help coordinate getting the race boats towed to George Town (which takes almost an entire day), anchored securely and readied for last minute preparations.  Then he'll motorboat back home, and we'll eventually travel down together - leisurely - with friends on their private sailboat.  Once in George Town, we'll reunite with local friends and those we haven't seen in a while who have come in for Regatta.  (Don't worry, I have family visiting and staying in my home to keep Angel company!  She's not low-maintenance enough to go with me!)

And then, let the racing begin!  The Race Committee fires a start gun, the sailors pull hard to raise the spectacular sails, and the boats are off.  I follow along in a "chase boat" in case one of our boats needs anything (e.g., offload lead ballast before the start gun if the boat is sailing too heavy in practice) and just to enjoy the thrill of being up close and personal.

For example, here are just a handful of pics from April 2011's Regatta . . .

Just some of the A-Class boats clustered together during one of the races.

Beautiful water of the Exumas!  Smaller C-Class boats racing here.

A-Class boats rounding an orange buoy.

A beautiful line of A-Class boats on a final leg (with our local boat in the lead)!

So pretty.

Sometimes dangerous and fierce, as these two battle for right-of-way nearing the buoy.

If this little teaser has whet your appetite for more, No Worries Mahn!  Plenty more to come!

Fishing Trip, Without The Fish

Ahhh, the Better Life!  It's all a state of mind.  I mean, here I am, in the most beautiful, pristine, idyllic setting one could wish for, and I STILL get caught up in a frantic flurry of the almighty Things To Do.  On a typical day this week, for example, I started my day at 6:30 a.m. per usual.  It quickly turned into a day of blog posting, social media responses, catching up on overnight email, starting laundry, walking the dog, hanging laundry to dry, mopping the floor, cleaning the bathroom, paying bills online, making lunch, visiting with my beau over lunch, drafting documents and conducting email flurry for local summer children's camp that I help organize, switching laundry off the line to dry, phone calls from family, prepping dinner, etc., etc.

I still had hoped to catch an early shower (never knowing when the water might go off) and run one last errand before closing down for dinner and the evening.  That hadn't happened yet, and it was already after 4:00.  Then, the phone rang.

It was my beau calling.  Generally, he starts his day in the wee hours of the morn and wraps up official work late afternoon/early evening, spending the next few hours catching up on other work, running errands, enjoying happy hour (me too!) or whatever.  That day, he announced he was going fishing!  But it sounded like I was too busy to join him?

Hah!  In all of two seconds, I reminded myself - WHY do you live here?  To sit longer in front of a computer?  What did you leave your former life for?  To continue working too much at the expense of missing out on living life?  NO, to all of that.  YES, to let's go fishing!

I grabbed my sunglasses, visor, cold drinks and hit the road in my golf cart towards the dock.  The next hour and a half was absolutely worth it.  We didn't catch a single fish, but I had a great and relaxing end of day!  

Wanna experience it again with me?

First, we pull out from the dock, easing through the shallow and crystal clear channel area.

We cruise by the government dock, where people were cleaning fish at the bench, admiring one of the local sailboats floating and ready for an upcoming regatta, and generally unwinding from the day together.

Nearing the sailboat (more on these boats and the regatta soon) and the picturesque church.

Having completed our shoreline stroll, we zoom away from the island.  Heading north for a few miles, we stay on the western, protected, calmer side.

Waverunners and water toys are common during the busy tourist season.  Locals aren't thrilled about them buzzing about, but - as we say around here - what it is, is what it is.

Plentiful boats in the area this time of year.

Look at this big momma anchored far out.  At a distance, guessing it's 240+ feet, one big cruising yacht!  We're seeing more of these this season.  Speculation is that the super-wealthy, who would normally cruise to Europe and the Mediterranean are saving on fuel costs by staying more local in the Caribbean!

Zipping along through the numerous little cays dotting the area.

One of many deserted beaches popping out of the rock by the sea, with soft, white sand.

Approaching the "cut" over to the deep, rougher "ocean side" on the eastern side of the island chain.

About to go through the cut.  Some days, it can look deceptively calm, but still surprise you, so a good captain is always alert.  One day, going through this same cut on a calm, clear day, we were suddenly swamped by a 15+ foot wave.  Fortunately, nobody was hurt (more than some pretty severe bangs) or thrown overboard.  I was holding onto a rail with both hands and crouched low, just focused on staying with the boat.  Definitely the roughest seas I'd been in.  Scary.  So glad an experienced captain was handling the boat!

Crossing the cut, waves slap and splash, but it is relatively uneventful as we venture into deeper, ocean waters.  We've gone from clear, pale blue and turquoise green waters into deeper royal blue waters, which will turn to navy blue as we head out even deeper.

Heading east, away from land into nothingness as the sun sparkles and slowly lowers itself for the day.

At this point, we're about a mile from land and in 1,000+ feet of water.

Now the fun kicks into a new level!  My beau sets two reels with bait (ballyhoo) and casts them into the water before resting them on either side of the boat's stern.  We're fishing for dolphin, as in mahi-mahi, not Flipper.  I was at the wheel and throttle at this point, which is why you are not graced with pictures of the line-baiting, etc.  :)   

We troll along for an hour, heading another mile out with almost nothing in sight except a distant peek of land, a sprinkle of boats in the distance and an occasional passing plane.  As we putter along, I breathe easy, cold drink in hand, munching on cashews, Best of the Eagles playing on the boat's stereo, sun warming the soul.  My beau, when he is not regaling clients and friends with entertaining stories, is a man of few words, and we sit in comfortable silence, taking in the peace of Mother Ocean together.

Eventually, we head south, towards a cut closer to home.  We pull in the empty reels.  Although we didn't catch anything, that is secondary to the bliss of getting out on the water.  Fish aren't running quite yet, but we don't care this day!

We dock the boat, where I mange to tie a hitch that is deemed "perfect," and we put the boat away.  I head home and fix dinner while the sun finishes setting off the back deck.  Less than two hours ago, I was feeling the press of the day.  Now, I am at peace.

I hope you can find little bits of that in your day, too.  Have a great weekend!

Hunting Large Sea Snails

Recently, I wrote about an evening boat excursion, which included hunting large sea snails.  I promised a fuller description of what that entails, so here you go!

By way of background, I was never a huge fan of escargot (snails) when I would occasionally encounter them at a fancy restaurant in my former life in the States.  (However, if you saturate anything in butter and garlic, I'm likely to find it tasty!)  So, when an island local offered me bites of an even bigger Bahamian variety a while back, I was even less keen.  However, in the spirit of Choosing the Better Life, I wanted to be open and try new things.  Plus, buttery garlic was offered up simultaneously as a dipping sauce!  While it doesn't hit my love-ometer at the same high scale as lobster or hogfish, I did like it.

Since then, I've learned more about these critters.  Bahamians pronounce the name so that it sounds like "Wilts" or "Vilts."  You may know them as Wilks or Whilks or Whelks.  Or, you may have never heard of these large Caribbean sea snails!  I'll let Wikipedia provide the technical descriptions, but here is my layman's version . . .

We headed out in the boat toward little rock formations jutting out of the sea.  The wilks can be found on our island, too, but not as many these days.

Tide was low so we knew that the wilks, which adhere to the rock near the water line, would be exposed.

Before we focus on snails, let's take a moment to admire the spectacular water.  I never tire of looking at it.

See the different rock coloration marking the high water line?

We maneuvered as close to the rock as possible, leaned in (or got out of the boat on larger rocks), used a knife to pry the wilk's suction loose and dropped it into the bucket.

Approaching with knife in hand.

Our first wilk in the bucket!

While my beau hunts in this photo, I was manning the camera and holding the boat off of the rock at the same time!

As soon as you pry it lose, the wilk squirts salt water out of the shell and quickly retreats back inside.  If you look closely, the center with rings around it is the suction cup portion of the snail.

Up close and personal.

In ten short minutes, we'd gathered a great snack!

But we weren't done.   We kept cruising through the sparkling blue water along the line of little cays in search of more wilks.  When driving closely - and knowing what you're looking for - you can spot the wilks clinging to the rock before heading in closer with the knife.

In a very shallow cove with rock in a semicircle around us.  Engine is turned off and up - we're walking the boat along.

The next round of hunting took longer than our initial score.  We passed several cays that had already been cleaned out by others.  Or, as my beau put it, "Dis is hog road. Ain't nuttin' dere."  Translation from Bahamian dialect:  "This is 'hog road' (meaning, well traveled).  Ain't nothing there."

Still, in about an hour's time - and with us trading spots while he drove and I gathered some wilks - we had a nice bucket of "groceries."

I contributed about 10 to this pile.

As an aside, this excursion was also a great boat lesson for me.  We were in choppy water and I had to slowly approach the rock, throw it into reverse at times, reach the targeted wilk without the current pushing me aside, watch the prop where it got shallow, keep the boat off the rock while he got the snails, sometimes even circle around on my own to retrieve my beau from the rock if he got out of the boat, and otherwise test my new skills.  Challenging, but exhilarating and great practice!

Another line of small cays in the distance, over the choppy water.

Just another example.

As the sun dropped, we called it quits on the hunting and enjoyed the rest of the boat excursion.  Eventually, we made it home.  While I prepared a salad and sauteed the freshly caught Wahoo fillets from our friend for fish sandwiches, my beau prepared our appetizer - wilks!

We brought only a few home with us.  (The rest, we put in an onion bag - strong netting with plenty of holes for water, but small enough that the wilks can't escape.  We sunk the onion bag in water near home and tied it up so the wilks wouldn't crawl off.  This kept them alive overnight until we could share them with other friends in the coming days.)

First, he put the wilks and some water in a pot to boil.

That's salt and seawater scum that boiled off around the edge of the pan.

After 30 minutes or so, he deemed them ready.  I confess I'm not entirely sure how he knew!  After draining them, he took them one by one and popped the snail out by knocking the shell against the cutting board.

The part in the center of the photo is the snail's tail that pushes it along.  We discarded those.

With a kitchen knife, he then took each snail and removed the suction cup and tail.  With the remaining meat, he sliced it into bite sizes for us to dunk in melted butter with lime and garlic.  We did all of this standing up - it didn't last long enough to make it into a bowl at the table.

The dark round discs in the middle of the photo are the suction cups, hardened after being boiled.

These are large, good-sized shells.  Any that were smaller, we left on the rock to keep growing.  We don't hunt babies!

Of course, throughout this entire preparation, Angel was never far from the action.  The smells of the fish in the pan and the wilks on the counter tantalized her quivering nose.  In case you had any question about it, fish is not just for cats.  Angel and the other island dogs love all varieties of seafood!

If I sit nicely, maybe he'll take pity on me or at least drop some little morsel?

So, the next time you hear about or see escargot, you can forget the fancy French stuff and remember our island-style wilks!

Evening Boat Excursion

One evening last week, we took the boat out for a couple hours.  With daylight savings, our evenings are longer now and conducive to such weekday adventures!

This particular boat excursion was in a 17 foot Boston Whaler, the boat in which I'm being taught to actually DRIVE (and dock and anchor and tie up, etc.) rather than to simply enjoy going along for the ride.  But I begged off taking the wheel first since I wanted to snap some blog photos for you!

Off we went.  We pulled away from the private dock and waved good-bye to Milo, one of my favorite island dogs.

Milo, just chillin' out.

We backed into a small canal, then headed west.  I never fail to be amazed at the clarity and brilliant hues of the water!

You can see to the bottom!

As we pulled away from the island, I looked back at the local boat yard.  One of the island's sailboats was up on the land getting a fresh coat of paint for the upcoming regatta (sailboat race).  These boats are Bahamian-made and Bahamian-owned.  They are wooden sloops, harkening back to the traditions of early fishermen.  This particular boat has been hand-planked and rebuilt by hand in the past.  And she's fast!

Local Boat Yard

We cruised along the many little "cays" or blips of land, some larger than others.  The western backside of a larger (uninhabited) cay forms a safe harbor where many boats are now anchored during this busy season.   

Sailboats anchored out in a protected area.

I mean, look at that water!  C'mon!  I'm not biased, right?!

Tiny little cays in the sea.

Then the real mission of this adventure commenced - wilt-hunting!  Wilts (a.k.a. whilks or whelks) are large Caribbean snails.  Locally, they attach to the hard coral rock near the water line.  So we cruised toward the rocky cays jutting out of the sea.

Like this one.

The water was deeper in some areas than others.  You can tell in the pictures by the shades of blue.  The deeper the water, the darker the blue.

See where it changes back to shallow water in the distance?

We maneuvered the boat close to the rock - some seriously challenging driving practice for me! - and pried the wilts off with a knife.  I took quite a few pics, so I'll give you a fuller description later.

For now, this is what our bucket looked like when we quit.

After completing our mission, we cruised along for a little joy ride.  First stop . . . pig beach!  There's that expression about "when pigs fly."  Well, in this case, pigs swim!

Approaching the beach.  See the pink pig by the left dinghy and the two darker ones by the right dinghy?

The pigs are wild.  One or more just had a litter recently, and I've counted more than a dozen piglets running around!

A couple piglets in the beach background.

The pigs are used to being fed by boaters, and they can be quite aggressive in coming out for food when they hear a boat engine nearing.  It's important to have the food ready to throw or the pigs will actually try to climb into the boat!  Not so good in a small boat.

I'm manning a camera and throwing bread bits as fast as I can as they swim up to the boat!

Lots of snorting.

Yup, those pigs are doggie-paddling.

They finally give up and turn to the beach as we motor away.

After we left pig beach, we cruised back toward home.  At a local marina, a unique-looking and beautiful boat caught my eye.  I'm not sure what type it is, but one of you more astute boaters is likely to know.  Pretty, huh?

The wood gleamed perfectly.

"Freedom" had a very patriotic feel, with an old-school look and a large American flag flying proudly.

Also near the marina, we saw a fisherman friend returning with a large haul.  So, we tied up the boat and went to the fish-cleaning bench to check it out.  He had a very large Wahoo!  Yes, that's the fish name.  But it's worth getting excited about - good eating!  If I heard correctly, this Wahoo was caught on an electric line in 600-800 feet of water.

Cleaning the Wahoo.

Right under and around the fish-cleaning bench, nurse sharks slowly swam in circles.

Waiting for fish scraps to be thrown over.

Yes, the sharks are underwater.  The water is really just that clear!  These photos were taken from the dock above, not with an underwater camera!

I also thought you might enjoy seeing the posted "rules" for the fish bench and grill area.  For decades, nothing was posted, so this is a modern touch.  It's still fairly loose and island-style, and people generally respect the rules.  However, the outdoor grill that had been built into a concrete wall no longer exists!  Hurricane Irene carried it away with her last summer.

As I've mentioned in other posts, tourists and locals like to gather around the fish-cleaning bench and check out the action.  The group this day happened to be mostly visitors.

Watching the fish-cleaning and the sharks around the fish-cleaning bench.

This visitor was especially brave and waded in with beer in hand - Kalik, which is a Bahamian beer.

The sharks weren't the only creatures being fed that evening. We were able to take home a piece of the Wahoo, so I delighted in a very fresh Wahoo sandwich that evening for dinner!  Just lightly sauteed, plenty of lime as always, and it was down the hatch in no time.

Another great day.  So grateful!