Laying Low in Abaco Bahamas

Laying Low in Abaco

By Jane Finn, Photography by Dave Finn as published in the November 2023 Issue of Planet Golf Review

The Bahama Breeze is a popular drink here in the Outer Islands, but for a sailor yearning to set out on a sea of adventure, it’s the wind in your sail, the song in your heart and the skip in your step that gives you the courage and freedom to chart your own course.

Slowing Down to the Speed of Life

It’s late afternoon and a balmy 27° Celsius when we touched down in Marsh Harbour, the nation’s third-largest settlement behind Nassau and Freeport. Still, there’s plenty of time to pick up groceries at Maxwell’s and store our gear aboard our rental boat before heading to Snappas Chill & Grill for dinner. It’s Monday, and the place is hopping. William Albury is tinkling the ivory keys, and as we went our way to the back of the restaurant, the crowd erupts in a passionate, if not precisely harmonious, rendition of Brown Eyed Girl. A local tribute to all the mothers and daughters, sisters, friends, and girlfriends gathered here to celebrate that life is good today!

As we settle in at our table overlooking the twinkling lights of the harbour, I take a deep breath, willing myself to slow down, relax and enjoy being on ‘island time.’ Magically, a Hibiscus Kiss appears before me, and the blackened mahi-mahi and grilled shrimp that follow are equally delicious. Gradually, the busyness of the past several weeks starts to fade, and I soon feel like I don’t have a worry in the world. Gone is the stress of packing, repacking, answering last-minute emails, plane delays, and then racing to make connections. For the next ten days, we are going to disconnect to reconnect. No cell phones, no Netflix, no What’s App, no Mr. Google – only our wits, GPS to navigate the waters and a marine radio to communicate with those onshore. I can’t wait for the journey to begin!

Come Sail Away

Come Sail Away with Me

Having been lulled to sleep by the gentle lapping of the waves, I awake feeling well-rested, but as I poke my head out of the hatch, I’m surprised it’s still dark. The last stars are fading from the inky black sky, and no one is astir. I take a few moments to absorb the absolute peace and serenity that engulfs me before quietly retreating below deck to once again study the charts that will guide us around the series of islands, cays, and rock formations that constitute the archipelago known as the Abacos, Bahama’s Crown Jewel when it comes to sailing.

A couple of hours later, we’re underway, and as we head out into the Sea of Abaco, I literally have one of those moments that takes your breath away. There’s no cloud overhead, and the shallow sandy bottom reflects the cerulean blue sky above and the gently swirling, crystalline emerald, turquoise, and aquamarine waters that layer one upon another, creating a kaleidoscope of colours. Framed by sandy beaches and limestone cliffs, I’m in awe of the tapestry of rich and royal hues that stretches before me. I also feel a pang of regret, knowing that I don’t have the words nor the camera skills to capture all I see, so I close my eyes and commit the image to memory to draw upon when the dull, dreary days of winter come calling.

Conky Joe’s

I’m sitting on the bow, following a trail of giant starfish that leads south like a stairway to heaven, when I spy coral heads just ahead, and we quickly slow our pace as we approach Sandy Cay. There’s not another soul in sight, and we snag a mooring close to the reef, don our snorkels and fins and spend the next hour leisurely swimming with the fishes, eels, and stingrays. Back on board, we dive into big bowls of fresh ceviche from Conky Joe’s accompanied by homemade buns and an artfully displayed platter of tropical fruit. I’d love to linger a bit longer, but we need to reach Little Harbour before nightfall.

A Step Back in Time

Pete’s Pub is exactly as I remember it – rustic, laid-back, and so inviting. I’m tempted to stop and quench my thirst, but first, I must visit the caves where Randall Johnston and his family lived before establishing an artist’s colony and the only bronze foundry in the Caribbean. No matter how often I hear the story, I’m always inspired by the man who threw caution to the wind and left a comfortable life in New England to pursue his dreams, unaware of how he and his offspring would play an integral role in Abaco’s history and influence its future.

Pete’s Pub and Gallery

When we originally discovered Pete’s in the late ’80s, the cook, while pouring a stiff rum and coke, had to stifle a snort when I asked for a menu before informing me that he had one steak, two lobster tales and lots of burgers but was running low on beer. We settled for a burger and a cold Sands and were about to turn in for the evening when Pete returned to restock the bar, and that’s when the party started in earnest. I laughed until I cried, then I laughed some more before gingerly making my way to my berth, where I promptly fell asleep.

Today, Pete focuses on mentoring artisans from around the world in the lost wax process, creating one-of-a-kind bronze sculptures coveted by collectors everywhere. Greg, his son, now manages the bar and restaurant. While the food has gone a little more upscale, featuring items like Mango Grilled Grouper and Ginger Garlic Tuna, there are still burgers on the menu, and the ambience remains warm, casual, and welcoming. Like all our previous visits, we stayed until last call, and I was grateful that once again, I only had to stroll a hundred yards to find my bed!

I Can See for Miles and Miles and Miles

Panoramic View from the Hope Town Lighthouse Abaco

Iconic Lighthouse at Hope Town Abaco

No visit to the Abacos would be complete without taking time to explore Hope Town, one of the quaintest colonial villages on the planet. So, despite our late night, we roust ourselves as the sun pops up and make way for Elbow Cay. The wind is in our favour, and we’re cruising past the white sands of Tahiti Beach in no time, but I’ve got my sights set on another treasure that lies ahead. We swing by Parrot’s Cay, and there it is, looming overhead, the iconic candy-striped lighthouse. Kerosene-burning, manually operated, it’s the last of its kind, still guiding ships home to safety every night of the year,

Relieved that we can find a place to anchor near the lighthouse, we scramble into the dinghy and head for shore, determined to climb the 101 steps to the top for a bird’s eye view of the island. I’m not as limber as I used to be, but if lighthouse keeper Jeffery Forbes Junior can do it every two hours to crank the fittings precisely 427 times, I can surely do it too, and let me tell you, it’s worth the effort.

As I push open the narrow iron door, I stumble slightly, whether from a gust of wind or the stunning view that greets me as I emerge on the deck; I can’t be sure, but I couldn’t be more delighted to have made it to ‘the top of the world.’ It’s a clear day, and I can see twenty miles in all directions – the rough Atlantic Ocean, the tranquil Sea of Abaco, sailboats, and yachts at rest in various harbours and anchorages around the island and an array of colourful, colonial homes, shops and cottages clustered below. It’s free for all to enjoy, but a small donation goes a long way to ensuring that this piece of history will be here for generations to come.

Beach at Elbow Cay Abaco

After two idyllic days exploring Hope Town on foot, as no cars are allowed on Elbow Cay, we’re ready to make the long run to Green Turtle Cay, but not before popping by Vernon’s for a few supplies. The sign on the door embodies the concept of work-life integration – “Open when we’re here, closed when we’re not.” Fortunately, he’s open today, and I purchased a couple of loaves fresh from the oven, along with one of Vernon’s renowned key lime pies.

Fair Seas and an Unexpected Encounter

At 8:15, we tune into the Cruiser’s Net – a group of volunteers that provides daily advice to sailors, landlubbers and residents about the weather, local events, lost and found items and coordinates mail calls. ‘Barometer Bob’ advises there’s a strong, prevailing northwest wind blowing, so we’ll get our exercise today as we head upwind, tacking every few minutes to stay our course.

Dolphin Experience in Abaco

Shortly after lunch, the wind shifts, and now we can relax and enjoy the ride. We’re in deep water and with nothing before us, I’m lazily scanning the horizon when two black specks surface on our starboard and then another two appear on our port side. I holler at Dave to let out the sails, and suddenly, we are surrounded by eight dolphins, swimming under and around the boat, playfully calling and chasing each other. At first, we race from one side of the boat to the other, vying to get the perfect photograph until I declare we’re missing the magic, and we lean into the moment.

Time stood still as we watched them leap, turn, and spin, revelling in each other’s company. Splashing, singing, dancing, they didn’t have a care in the world, nor did we. I don’t recall the last time I felt this connected to nature and the elements, but I knew I felt a lightness I hadn’t experienced in months. Then, as quickly as they appeared, they assemble in front of the boat and, with a shrill whistle, beckoned us to follow. We tightened the sail and reengaged, struggling to keep up as they led us closer and closer to our destination. Just before we reached New Plymouth, they dove and were gone in the blink of an eye, but not before leaving an indelible imprint in my heart and soul.

Still mesmerized by our encounter, we anchor off the government pier and take the dingy to shore. By now, I’m starving, having forgone my lunch in favour of frolicking with our newfound friends, and I’m anxious to find Miss Emily’s Blue Bee Bar – home of the original Goombay Smash, a delightful concoction of rum, pineapple, coconut, and love. Often replicated, never duplicated, it pairs exceptionally well with the best fish tacos I’ve ever tasted.

Last Call – Great Guana Cay

Nipper’s Walkway at Great Guana Cay Abaco

As I walk up the hill, my hips sway to the music drifting down to the pier, mingled with the shouts of people greeting old friends and making new ones. Nipper’s has consistently been voted one of the best beach bars in the Caribbean and with good reason. Perched above a five-mile stretch of white sand beach, every level of the rainbow-coloured building serves up commanding views of the Atlantic Ocean. Sundays, it’s the place to see and be seen, and Nipper’s pig roasts are legendary as is their unparalleled Bahamian hospitality. But all too soon, after a night of revelry, it’s time to make for Marsh Harbour for one last evening before heading home.

Lest you think this vacation was all about too much fun and alcohol, I want you to know that we were also accompanied by the spirit of hope and optimism wherever we roamed. You see, I left out a piece of the story that I need to share.

Some of you may know this, but on September 1, 2019, Hurricane Dorian made landfall, the worst natural disaster in the nation’s history. The destruction was devastating. In some parts of the islands, 85 percent of the infrastructure disappeared after being battered by 185-mile-an-hour winds. Thousands were left homeless, but despite this tragedy, Abaconians continue to welcome visitors with open arms and hearts as they rebuild their communities, confident that each day heralds a brighter tomorrow.

No one lamented what had happened. Instead, they shared their dreams and aspirations. For me, this trip was more than a vacation; it was a voyage of discovery. The friendly, honest, hard-working people of these islands showed me how to live simply, appreciate what I’ve got, and not fret about what I want. They reinforced the value of collaboration and community, something technology can’t provide and allowed me to reconnect with myself and others.

Reluctantly, I pause in my reflection to pull my cell phone from my handbag to check in for our 60-minute flight to Palm Beach, knowing I’ll be deluged with emails and lists of to-dos the second I do. I hesitate for a moment before I hit the on button as I hear George Nowak, the Barefoot Man, singing the refrain to the last song he recorded in the Abacos – “I’m in Paradise, and there ain’t no app for that.” A gentle reminder that will stay with me until I can return to this place that is a piece of heaven on earth.

To read the entire issue 26 of Planet Golf Review click here.