No-see-ums, green flashes, shark shows, naturalist excursions, beach-combing

Rum Cay, Bahamas

Our entry into Sumner Point Marina felt in many ways like coming home. Independence has spent a month or more at a time in this protected hole. It is the only time we tie up at a marina—there are several reasons for this. Primarily, because the anchorage is basically untenable for any stretch of time, especially in a trawler. There is a swell that, even on the calmest days will rock your boat till you are ready to swim to shore and sleep on the beach.

This, of course, is not an option because if the mosquitoes are not covering every inch of exposed skin, then the “no-see-ums” are leaving their incredible stinging bite on those same spots. These microscopic, flying pests especially appear before sunset (also early morning) and launch a full-scale attack on the crew of the fishing boats, cleaning the day’s catch at the docks.

The protocol that has evolved for us, is put on long sleeves & long pants, close up the boat & turn on the air-conditioning (another reason fro being at the dock), & venture outside with a beer or two for the fish-cleaners (which might result in a zip-lock bag filled with fresh fillet for dinner).

There are two shows going on about this time. One is the shark-feeding fest. These sharks have been coming in for years, trained by the prospect and smell of free food, as the fish remains get tossed off the dock. Some are a good 10ft long, and there are Lemon sharks and Bull sharks mixed in with the nurse sharks. Often, someone will tie a line through the fish carcass and bait the sharks, pulling them clear out of the water as they lunge and grab the bait. Falling off the dock is just not an option! (nor is swimming in the marina at any time of day).

The second show is nature’s heavenly display as the huge, fiery sun, sometimes the color of a blood orange, sinks slowly, at first, then quickly melts into the blue waters of the horizon. All eyes are trained on those last few seconds of descent, eager to catch a glimpse of the Green Flash, which is a sight heralded by those who see it, and mocked by those who claim there is no such thing. I have often seen a burst of green, almost like a green button where the sun’s edge just was, but I have heard that there are truly spectacular flashes across the entire horizon. I still watch for that one!
Yesterday, on my daily 8am bike ride with a small group of islanders, we were surprised by one of the bulls who inhabit the island. The surprise was mutual, I’m sure, as we hooted and hollered and followed behind him as he galloped (really!) down the road and finally off through the brush again. He was big and white with a brown head, and a member of a herd of maybe over 100 wild cows (usually scrawny) whose evidence we see along the only paved road and on many of the beaches that ring the island.It’s about a 6.5 mile ride to the airport and back, but when the wind is blowing 20 knots, like this morning, it feels like twice that. The up side is that encountering a truck and a golf cart would be a heavy traffic day.

After packing a picnic lunch, we joined Oscar & Sue on their amazing little ranger vehicle that allows us access into the depths of the island. Bull-dozed “roads” criss-cross much of the island these days—many are already overgrown, all look like a rubble of rocks and boulders sided by overhanging branches & thorny stuff, as well as healthy poisonwood trees cropping up every so often. The high chassis & individual wheel suspension allow us to plow right over small trees & shrubs and ascend perilous rises, as well as get through soft sand. Two of us stand behind the seat in the bed, overlooking the treetops for some great views.

In addition to the obvious sea-grape, I have learned to identify the lignum vitae tree, the gum alame (Sp? Also called gumbo limbo), wild tamarind, 7-year apple, mahogany, and of course- the poison wood. Sue is a great guide and naturalist. At the northeast corner of the island, we get a good look at Lake George- a huge area of water, presumably fed by a blue hole, which exists near the center. That part of the island has hidden cenotes (underwater caves) and driving over the limestone ridges next to open holes filled with water can be a bit disconcerting.

We finally arrive at the N.E. beach. The wind is howling, & we climb down the bluff to the shore, where it’s a bit less exposed. This is a long, long stretch of beach-comber’s paradise. Up on the wrack line, an accumulation of plastic, glass bottles, and very random bits of machinery, lumber and always lots of shoes, are scattered among the piles of seaweed. Here is where we search for sea beans, old bottles, and glass sea bouys. Sometimes a useful bucket, strainer, or weird item is a keeper. Closer down by the surf where the soft sand meets flat rocky ledges, sparkling sea glass waits to be picked through and pocketed. Some of the limestone is worn away by the water creating little pocket pools that fill up with treasures, shells and coral bits thrown up by the receding tide. Michelle and Brigid, you both know how many hours we can happily pick through these offerings!

So, finally, full from our picnic feast, satisfied with our gleaning from the shore, and even tucking an ocean trigger that Oscar hooked with some bait he pulled from snails into the cooler, we head on back to town and home.


It’s been a stellar day.

Sue and Paul
Independence,
Rum Cay