American Paradise (Part 16 of 17)
(This entire 17-part story can be found in the “travel” category.)
I was anxious to get the life raft inflated and paddle the 200 yards to shore. I was ready to explore Mayaguena Island. But by the time Tony and Lisa were ready, the dock was nearly empty again. I had hoped to talk someone into giving us a ride to town, but most already left for home.
Finally, we got to the shore. When I stepped out of the raft, I stood on the beach and then bent and grabbed a fist full of sand and yelled a victorious “YES”. I soon located a few locals who took us halfway to town. On the ride, after relating our story about the storm, I mentioned that I washed my blood off in the little harbor.
Imagine my horror when my new companions told me that 14-foot sharks are so abundant there that it is off-limits for locals to swim. They said I was lucky to be alive to tell of my foolish act.
At a makeshift drug-runner airplane landing strip where we were dropped off, a jeep quickly stopped and ushered us into the open-top backseat. It turned out to be island’s governor and the chief of police in the jeep. They didn’t reveal their identities until we reached the edge of town (actually, it was more a collection of shacks). By then, we had already shared our experiences at sea. They knew we were good folks. And beat up. In typical island-style, the chief told us not to bother showing him our passports because it would make unnecessary paperwork for him.
After five Cokes and an order of french fries (they called them chips), I called home back to City Girl in New Jersey on a shortwave radio. I had told her I’d be in Florida in nine days, so she was shocked when discovering I was only halfway there. Three hours later, we were back at the raft. We inflated it again, and raced to get aboard our sailboat.
We left Mayguena and limped northwest in our battered craft. It would be nearly a week before we got to Freeport, Bahamas. Another week of nothing cold to drink and no shower. My thoughts that last week were of a great, big chocolate milkshake, of soaking in a bathtub, and of being on solid ground.
The Mayaguena to Freeport journey was uneventful. We were all somewhat subdued after our ordeal at sea. The beautiful skies, especially around dusk and dawn, left lasting memories. Finally, we spotted the Bahaman island. It was exciting. It was just what I needed to rid me of an incessant headache that had haunted me since the storm. A few more hours and we’d be in port.
It also meant the conclusion of the sailing portion of my trip. At Freeport, I would find other means of transportation to Florida. You see, I had discovered that sailboats are too slow for me. A hundred miles a day won’t due. I thought to myself that I would never do a long sail again. Never!
- Mountain Man