April 3, 2009.
After a couple of days in Black Point it was time to head out. You see, the laundry was done, coconut bread was purchased from Lorraine's Mom, some fresh veggies taken aboard and a bit of mingling had taken place.
We headed up to Sampson Cay. It was a very nice 10 mile sail and went quickly. We had never been here before and were treated to an absolutely beautiful but crowded anchorage. We wanted to stop here because topping off the diesel and gasoline tanks is very easy at the beautiful marina. After taking on 16 gallons of gasoline for the dink and 20 gallons of diesel for the big boat we should be set until we return to the states.
In the afternoon we decided to do a bit of walking around the island. I’m glad we did because Sampson Cay is a beautiful first class resort. There are private bungalows scattered about the island offering privacy and unbelievable views. To give you an idea about what I mean by first class, one of the fancier bungalows rents for eight
thousand dollars per week. Yeah, it was empty.
We saw a map which indicated a path of sorts that seemed to run the circumference of the island. We headed out to explore with our friends Bess, Nancy and Jim. The importance of proper footwear was not taken seriously enough by all the members of our little group.
At first the path was a 10 foot wide concrete walkway. After about a quarter of a mile the path gave way to a hard packed dirt trail. Still no problem for those silly enough to be barefoot. As we made our way along the trail made the transformation from dirt to pebbles, to stones to chunks of crushed limestone. All of a sudden the barefoot thing wasn’t lookin’ so good.
We passed random bungalows as we made our way along. Eventually we came to a picturesque beach complete with a waterfront gazebo. Bess, Christy and Nancy were happy to sit for a bit before we headed back.
A bit of history about some of the walkers. Nancy was a bigshot with the FAA and Bess was an office manager for one of the senators in Washington, DC. So they were both pretty busy women with a lot of responsibilities before they ran away to the sea. I had to laugh at the transition that’s taken place in their lives as they had a serious discussion of the correct technique for maintaining a proper rectangle while basket weaving.
After our brief break we were headed back. The path we had come in on was a known quantity. It was kinda rough on bare tootsies but really not uncomfortable, so we could go back the way we came. Or we could continue to complete the circuit on what would prove to be a trail composed mainly of very prickly “iron shore”.
In line with maintaining our tradition of doing the unexplainable for God knows why, we chose the iron shore. Iron shore resembles very rough stucco. Instead of being on the wall its on the ground with the points sticking straight up. I would liken it very much to trying to walk across a Hindu’s “bed of nails”. And of course there was more than a half mile of this ahead of us.
Let’s just say that the slower pace gave us some quality time to talk as we very slowly made our way back to the marina. God forbid someone laughed and lost their balance. It sounded like ha ha ha, ouch ouch ouch. Somewhere along the way the humidity went through the roof and the only thing that kept us going was the promise of a cold beverage at the resorts bar. We all arrived no worse for wear but I really don’t have any idea how.
After that it was back to the boat for dinner and some interneting. Friday we’ll head up into an area called Pipe Creek to hide from a pair of fronts that are supposed to roll through in the next couple of days. Its beautiful, its pristine and there could be some good fishin’.