After crossing the Great Bahama Bank (Jazz will likely write about this), we anchored off of a private island called Chub Cay, the furthest southwest anchorage in the Berry Islands and a common cruising stop. The anchorage was picturesque, if a bit rolly with southerly swell and all the multi-million dollar fishing boats zipping in and out the entrance.
We stuck around for my birthday, and talked our way into the club for the day. Apparently they used to be friendly to “transient” boaters, i.e. non-guests, but no longer are. The new policy seems not to be common knowledge yet, because we called to make dinner reservations and to double-check the policy, got a green light, and then were essentially told to fuck off on arrival. Guys, we just want to spend money at your resort! Anyway, Jazz sorted it all out, and they were perfectly hospitable after that.
After a cocktail looking out at our boat across the beach…
we hitched a ride out to Turtle Creek with our virgin paddle boards. “Which way should we go to see turtles?” “It doesn’t matter, you’ll see turtles”. We blew up the boards and headed into the mangroves, and as promised, we saw turtles. They were surprisingly fast, and thus hard to photograph, so you’ll have to take my word that we saw lots of them. The current was fast too, and we took about an hour and a half going upstream, and fifteen minutes coming back. The verdict on the boards? We like them. Not that we’re paddleboard experts, but they seem as stable as any fiberglass rental I’ve used, and pumping them up isn’t nearly the chore I expected.
We finished the evening with a delicious dinner at the club. Jazz even talked the chef into selling us a head of romanesco! Here I am, maintaining my usual level of decorum over the conch soup.