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Start a travel blog Login. We enjoyed a peaceful morning at Big Major Spot. We all wanted to see the pigs again, so we took the dingy back to Pig Beach. We had heard from other cruisers that there were baby pigs. Okay, well, maybe this little guy was kind of cute in a 'my nose is too big for my face and I have serious eye boogers' kind of way. After the pigs, Matt and I took the dingy for a ride over to Sandy Cay. The water was simply ridiculous on the ride over. It looked unnatural. When we reached Sandy Cay, a tiny uninhabited speck with an amazing beach, we had it all to ourselves. A sandbar was just beginning to form. We headed back to Island Girl in time to get back to Staniel Cay for low tide. The group wanted to snorkel the Grotto again and we needed to get fuel and ice at the marina. I was also still determined to find those hot dog buns. The first thing we learned at Staniel Cay was how not to dock a catamaran. As we neared the dock, Matt jumped off with the rope. Then there was a lot of shouting of random instructions. Matt, John, and Keith all started going in different directions. There was more shouting. The boat suddenly jerked into reverse. Matt was still holding the rope. Matt nearly lost an arm. Keith leapt off the helm. The boat was still in reverse. The rope went in the water. More running. We finally got the boat in place. Matt regained consciousness, checked to see if he still had 2 arms, and picked himself up off the dock. The guys focued on water and fuel and I walked back to the Blue and Pink Stores. Maybe some hot dog buns had materialized overnight. We headed back over to Thunderball Grotto for another snorkel and to grill the leftover hamburgers and bunless hot dogs for lunch. It was as beautiful as it had been the day before. Despite my insistence that we could, indeed, cook hot dogs and hamburgers on the stove, the guys kept working on the grill. Remember how I said a man will put a bike together wrong 4 times before he'll read the instructions? It was something like that. An hour later, looking at the tools strewn all about the deck, getting hot and hungry, I started yelling. You know that person that is really bossy, always talks but never listens, has a really bad temper and is always starting fights? I cussed everyone out. Matt threw a few hamburgers in the ocean. Sydney got a headache. I started crying. Teresa just wished her mattress was dry so she could go hide in her cabin. Keith popped open a beer and wondered why the hell he was on a boat with these people. After lunch cooked on the stove and a second round of snorkeling, we pulled up our anchor and headed toward Blackpoint Settlement on Great Guana Cay. Blackpoint Settlement is touted as the largest settlement in the Exuma cays. I think I expected it to be bigger, but I should have known better after George Town. I grabbed a quick shower and had Keith take me to the settlement dock so I could find Teresa. He stayed with Sydney. We headed that way and found a seat at the bar. The guys were playing pool. We ignored them. They ignored us. It was all very 7th grade. While the pig feet and sheep tongue souse sounded mighty tasty, I went boring and got the ribs. Not expecting much, I was surprised at just how good the ribs were. Although, it could have just been the rum punch. It made everything seem awesome. For dessert, the waitress brought us a plate of the ugliest, but most delicious little cupcakes ever. It was late. We yelled. We jumped up and down. We whistled. Finally, he came to get us and we made a bone-jarring, wet, and slow dingy ride back to the boat at oh-dark-hundred. We woke up not completely hating each other and figured that was a good enough reason to continue on. Mornings on the boat were my favorite time. Not only was the sky painted in soft colors and the world still soft and quiet, it was the point in each day where no one was mad, we weren't lost, and no body parts were getting broken. At this point, pieces of their bedding were getting seriously moldy. We stowed their moldy, wet stuff back inside, made a quick breakfast, and bid 'good bye' to Farmer's Cay. We were headed for Staniel Cay. We made it to Staniel by We wanted to snorkel at low tide, so we moored near Thunderball Grotto. We took the dingy in to the Yacht Club to grab some lunch. We drank. Besides, when you've endured a couple of tension filled days, there is nothing wrong with an a. The girls decided to walk up to the grocery store. We had some leftover hot dogs and were still determined to find the elusive Exuma hot dog buns. Staniel Cay has two small stores. Combine the contents of both stores and you have the equivalent of a badly stocked 7 Eleven. We tried the Blue Store first. They did not have hot dog buns. We walked over to the Pink Store next. They did not have hot dog buns, but they did have Ruffles. Unfortunately, they also had a complete lack of air conditioning or breathable oxygen inside. We almost died. We returned to the Yacht Club for a quick bite before returning to the boat to snorkel the Grotto. You know how some things get really trumped up and, when you finally get to experience them, you find that they are severely overrated? The Grotto is a marine cave that you can swim into at low tide. A hole at the top lets shimmering shafts of sunlight beam down into the water below. Underwater is teeming with fish and beautiful coral that you can see in water that is as clear as glass. There exists on this humble planet a place where humans and wild pigs can frolic on a tropical beach together. We swam with the pigs. We fed the pigs. We watched Sydney get chased down the beach by the pigs my personal favorite. We spent the rest of the beautiful afternoon on the boat doing our thing. Apparently, my thing is jumping on the trampoline. So, everyone got cleaned up and we headed inland to celebrate our first day at sea where nothing got broken, no one got hurt, no one cried, and no one got in a fight. We had made it through an entire day without tearing anything up, getting lost, or getting in a fight. Things were looking up. We had survived Sailing in the Bahamas for Dummies on Day 1 and hoped the learning curve was going to get easier. The morning sail was uneventful. The water was beautiful. Starfish the size of dinner plates rested on the sand below and the bottoms of the clouds overhead were tinted with turquoise from water below. Everywhere we looked, there was a different shade of blue. We enjoyed a calm, peaceful ride, alternating between naps on the trampoline and reading on the back deck. We arrived at Rudder Cut Cay before noon. Rudder Cut Cay is beautiful, but the beach is off limits because the island is privately owned by David Copperfield. There were actually signs on the beach telling people to 'keep off' and I have read that there are guard dogs that patrol the beach to keep riff-raff like us away. It is said that David Copperfield had a sculpture made from a mirror finished piano that is a replica of a life size Steinway Concert Grand Piano. Finding a piano in the ocean is like trying to find a fart in a sandstorm. Matt and John swam back and forth across the bay where we believed the sculpture to be. Back and forth. Forth and back. Just when we were about to give up, a day tour boat passed and stopped at the cave on Rudder Cut. Matt swam over and asked them where it was. They directed us to go back one bay, around the point. We planned to visit the nearby 2 mile sandbar, as low tide was just approaching, but some ugly clouds and choppy waves were approaching too, so we decided not to try our luck. Instead, we made lobster rolls with lobster Sydney had brought down from Canada and buttered, toasted baguettes. Apparently, Syd does not like it when her hands smell like lobster. I was starting to wonder if she was going to make lobster salad or perform a rectal exam. The morning had been fantastic. Our spirits were high. We had found the mermaid. We were sailing through the water like a hot knife through butter. We had a fantastic lunch instead of a rectal exam. One minute, the sun is shining. Make sure that everyone on board is okay, because there is sure to be a hard jolt, and if you are not prepared for it you may go flying and get hurt. Getting irate will not help you dislodge your boat and it will only make things worse for the people on board. Fingers were pointing. Charts were flying. Sydney was waving her arms. Teresa was crying again. John and I had a shouting match that would have made our mothers wash our mouths out with soap. Everyone blamed everyone. Mommy loves Daddy. If not, then then push your boat backwards from where you came. We all calmed down long enough to find some mooring balls and secure the boat. This caused another shouting match. The women on the boat were demanding that we use the VHF to call the Yacht Club because the guide book said you could call them if you needed help navigating your way in and someone would help you. A man will drive 40 miles out of his way before he'll stop and ask directions. A man will put a bicycle together wong 4 times before he'll actually read the instructions. Did we really think they were going to radio some other guy and admit they needed help navigating in? Things were tense. When we got the boat secured at the second mooring, I practically leapt off the boat. There are moments on a boat when the only thing that matters is getting off that boat. She bought the island from the British Crown and moved there with her three young children. Mostly undeveloped, this small cay is home to about 50 residents who are mostly descendants of the original residents. It was simple and basic, but it was pretty. As we walked, we noticed most people were outside and every single person greeted us with a happy, friendly greeting. These people were not rich, but they were happy and they were kind. The rusted out Jeep should have been a clue. There were more posters of alcohol on the outside of the door than there were actual bottles of alcohol inside. There was a counter with 2 bottles of rum and a can of pineapple juice. Oh, and some warm sodas. So Matt had a rum and pineapple juice. No ice. We met a man who was collecting buckets and had his tennis shoes tied with blades of grass. We found a tiny stray kitten. We were followed by laughing children. Ocean Cabin is owned and operated by Terry Bain and his wife, Ernestine. Terry was born in the Bahamas but was sent to England and to Libya for his education. It shines through in his articulate manner and his ability to talk about any subject whatsoever. Terry told me that the drink was not blue, it was aquamarine. We spent a good 30 minutes trying to guess all of the ingredients. Everything becomes entertainment. We finally managed to guess them all, but by then, we were all drunk, so no one remembers what they were. We had pre-ordered dinner via VHF radio shortly before I leapt off the boat for sanity purposes, and as we moved into the dining room, delicious plates of food started arriving. Matt, Teresa, and I all ordered the lobster. They had some sort of hot sauce butter mixture on them that was out of this world. The drinks, the conversation, the amazing dinner, the ice cream…. And every time we thought that was it, it was like that old Ginsu Knives commercial. This is home to me and it will always be. The best part was that Terry reminded us how much fun we were having and how much we loved each other. Spending the evening with Terry at the Ocean Cabin was worth getting tossed around, flooded, banged up, and run aground. Unfortunately, we hit our first snag of the day early. Apparently, the cruising permit for the boat had expired and we didn't have a new one yet. While we were waiting, Teresa twisted her ankle. I blame myself. I had talked her out of her comfortable, familiar, strappy, hiking sandals and convinced her to buy a pair of flip flops. Apparently, it is not a good idea to wear flip flops for the first time at the age of 58, particularly when your first experience with the flip flops is on a slick, wet, perpetually moving surface. We iced her ankle down and continued to wait. We would sail on the rough outside passage for about 20 miles, then we would take a narrow, current and rock filled cut to the inside passage, where we would spend the remainder of our trip. Keith and Sydney were used to sailing the Virgin Islands and this was their first experience in the shallow waters of the Bahamas, where eyeball navigation is more necessary than a fancy GPS. Matt and I know about power boats, but not sailboats. We were all a little nervous. The morning started off great. We cruised along the length of Great Exuma and the water was fairly calm. We lounged. We listened to music. We napped because some of us hadn't slept well the night before Snag 4 came in the form of this ominous tornado looking cloud that brought with it torrential rain that lasted just long enough to get everything good and wet and make the waves really big. We were starting to worry that this day was not going well, but then there was this beautiful rainbow. Maybe all our bad luck had been frontloaded and the rest of the day was going to be a breeze. And maybe a dingy filled with singing gnomes was going to show up with a pot of gold. We continued on until we were at what we believed to be the correct cut. We were already testy because of all the mishaps that had occurred that morning, and knowing how treacherous the cuts could be, we were extremely on edge. As we made our way toward the cut, we began to get pummeled by foot waves. That should give you a visual of what was happening to us at that point, in 10 foot waves and strong currents with our sail flapping uncontrollably and the boat meandering at the mercy of the waves. So we started going in circles while the guys tried to catch and contain the jib. Do you know what happens when a boat goes in circles in 10 foot waves? As we sat up top, clutching anything that looked stable with white knuckles and trying not to cry or vomit, water was POURING into her cabin and flooding her bed. The hatch in my head had popped and water was pouring into my bathroom. The floor was completely flooded and was about to overflow onto the wood floors of my cabin. I did the only thing I could, I braced myself inside the shower as the boat rocked violently back and forth, and depressed the drain button. Do you have any idea how long it takes to drain the water from a boat shower? It is agonizingly slow. Worse than the toilet. The best part is that you have to continue to hold the button down until it is completely drained. This took about 6 minutes. By the time I got back up to the salon, Teresa had discovered her flooded cabin. She managed to re-latch her hatch, but the damage was already done. Her bedding and mattress were saturated and there was about 3 inches of water in the storage area under the bed. The guys had gotten the sail secured and we were headed back into the cut. The narrow passage between the rocks literally seemed smaller than the boat. The currents were insane. The water was rough and we were all rattled. Waves started pitching over the boat again. We heard a lot of commotion up at the helm. Literally landed right on his face. He jumped up, eye bleeding, grabbed a chart book and ran back up to the helm. You know how, when someone falls, you don't know whether to laugh or pretend to be concerned? It wasn't like that. Blood was pouring down the side of his face and we were pretty sure he had lacerated his brain and his eye was going to fall out. Sydney, Teresa, and I stared at each other wide-eyed. We crept through the cut and came out the other side unscathed. The water was calm, the sky blue. Everyone was shaken and unhappy. One of the cabins was completely soaked. I am an idiot. I'm that person that thinks a ham sandwich can cure cancer. I'm sorry. Have a cupcake. Food makes everyone happy, right? We were through the cut, we were in calm water, the bad stuff was over. As we made our way to our anchorage, I would surprise everyone by having a lunch spread ready by the time we stopped the boat. I started making a fruit platter. When that was done, I cut up cheese and salami and put it on another platter with an assortment of crackers. I was smiling and patting myself on the back when I felt the boat make a turn. Stupid cheese. Stupid crackers. I hated them. I wanted to throw them overboard. I held those damn platters for 20 minutes until we found ourselves at the correct cut and were safely on the inside passage at Rat Cay. It was remarkable how beautiful the world was on this side of the cut. Keith had a black eye. Teresa had a sprained ankle. The davit clip that held the dingy up out of the water had broken and the dingy dangled sadly from one hook. Everyone spent the afternoon doing what made them happy. That meant Matt and I took the dingy over to a nearby deserted beach with rum punches. As we pulled up to Island Girl, she looked more like a Haitian refugee boat than a cruising yacht, loaded down with wet blankets and foam mattress pads, but she was ours and she had brought us safely through the cut. She was family. As the sun began to set on our first eventful day, we fired up the grill and made burgers and hot dogs. You think God could have thrown us a mercy pass at this point, but no. It just couldn't be that easy. It was more like cooking on a campfire than a grill. The fact that the grill was on fire and the pie server was only about 5 inches long made this quite a challenge. It was also tilted at an angle and there was no lip or edge, so I lost a few hot dogs that just rolled off into the water. That meant I had to hold them onto the grill with my 5 inch pie server. It was a rough start, but we knew there would be a learning curve. We just knew tomorrow would be better. We had tricky logistics for the morning. The grocery store closed at a. Our sailing friends from Canada arrived at p. So, we decided to just make a trip to the beach because thinking about all of those logistics made our head hurt. We headed to the grocery store at a. The plan was to get all the provisioning done by and beg the young couple cleaning the boat to let us go ahead and put our food away even though it was an hour before our charter started. If we had to go to Plan C, we were going to need some duct tape and a plunger, so we hoped we didn't have to go to Plan C. I have shopped in a small Bahamian grocery store before, so I am not unaccustomed to the rather odd, sometimes random, and always limited selections that you encounter there. However, I had never provisioned a boat for 7 days for 6 adults, knowing there would be very limited opportunities to pick up any additional provisions during the trip because the only thing you could find on the smaller cays is the equivalent of a small town gas station mini-market where you might be able to score a pack of crackers and a can of soda if you are lucky. Unless you are sailing to Africa, you can probably stick to your normal diet. For example, at the Exuma Market, I found the toothpaste with the rat poison. The pizza crusts were with the salsa and chips, not with the Italian foods. And hot dog buns? I never did find the hot dog buns. So you wanted Doritos. Want Sprite? You may have to settle for Club Soda and a box of Splenda. Especially if you have 17 bottles of liquor and 2 cases of beer. And, after about 3 days it will smell the same. However, despite space limitations, you can never have too much water, ice, zip-loc bags, or toilet paper. Tie them with rope and wear them as a hat if you have to. We pushed 3 grocery carts across the rutted, pocked, potholed pavement to the boat. Not only did the kind couple cleaning the boat let us go ahead and load up an hour early, they helped us put things away! We were finally introduced to Island Girl, our home for the next week. We had the boat provisioned and our things put away by a. Soon enough, we found her bright yellow building with the doors open, welcoming us inside with the smell of fresh fried seafood. Her menu was simple, featuring local seafoods, curries, and BBQ. Matt and I ordered the conch fritters, cracked lobster and the coconut grouper to share. We were surprised to find our friends already on board when we arrived back at Island Girl. After a short briefing, we were ready to set sail. Because it was late in the day, our plans were not ambitious. The short ride across the harbor was beautiful and we all started to get really excited about the week ahead. Dinner was complete with a Goombay Smash with a Splash and a dog named Butter that would let you throw his coconut. Do you know where tap water comes from on a sailboat? Unfortunately, it is not sweet flower dew brought down by fairies. It could come from anywhere. I knew it the instant I did it. It was just like the scene in Sex and the City when Charlotte drinks the water in Mexico. I knew my mistake the second I swallowed some of the tank water. I could already imagine the bacteria coursing through my digestive tract, planning to take up residence in some cozy corner of my abdomen, waiting to burst out of me like that thing from ALIEN. It was about am when it hit me. I tried to creep into the head, but there is simply no way to be discreet or quiet on a boat. Your toilet is about 10 feet from the next cabin's bed, separated by a thin wall of fiberglass. Odors are made of gas molecules. Gas molecules are in continual motion. They travel as fast as a bullet. Humid air like the air in a boat, for example traps smells and causes them to linger even longer than normal. Small, enclosed areas like a boat, for example limit the amount of dilution possible, which further intensifies the smell. When an odor is released, the small enclosed area and thick, humid air allow the odor to remain in a smellable concentration for an eternity. And privacy? On a boat? Forget about it. Because a boat head doesn't flush like a household toilet. The flush is excruciatingly slow and it is deafeningly loud. You have to hold the button down for about 10 seconds to get a good, clean bowl. It sounds like an 18 wheeler running through a cement wall. I know there was nothing to be ashamed of. Diarrhea happens to everyone…. But I still tried to be discreet. By my 7th visit to the head, I didn't give a damn about being quiet anymore. In fact, some passive aggressive part of me wanted to take an eye dropper and pour tank water into each of their sleeping mouths so that they too could experience the midnight joy of having their guts turned into molten lava. Ka-whooooooosh-whooooosh-whooooooooooossssshhhhh one one thousand A Travellerspoint blog Start a travel blog Login. It's funny how you never get up hope Who knows, maybe the baby pigs would be 'adorable. We needed baby pigs! Even as babies, these pigs are not adorable. It was perfect. I bet that Yacht Party had hot dog buns. No luck. Apparently, finding hot dog buns in the Exumas is like spotting a unicorn. Teresa went in to town hoping to find some shops still open. Sydney still had a headache and was sleeping in her cabin. After a few rum punches, we forgot to be mad. We were getting the hang of it. The water in the Exumas beats anything I have seen anywhere. It's simply mesmerizing. But it was worth it for the chips. Thunderball Grotto is not one of those things. Apparently, our invitation to the Yacht Party had gotten lost in the mail. Yes, there are swimming pigs in the Bahamas. Yes, they are kind of cool. But adorable they are not. It's a lot like jumping up and down on the sidewalk. But good luck telling me that after I have had a few rum punches. The afternoon was enjoyed on the boat, doing absolutely nothing. It was heavenly. We celebrated with rum punch, coconut shrimp, and key lime pie. And then there was Bobby. We loved Bobby. But we really wanted to find that piano. They were right. From the surface, it looks pretty much like a piano in the water. I mean A mermaid! And a piano! In the water! This was as close as we got. We had this. Life was good. Maybe if I had just spent 3 weeks on a life raft. Not even then. Terry is a smart man. After dinner, Terry told us that we could have any flavor of ice cream that we wanted. As long as it was rum raisin. You also get seven free kittens and a new car! On it was a song. We sang it. As a group. We rocked it. You also get a bag of diamonds and a bubble making machine! We were all excited about getting underway. Snag 3 came when we realized the air conditioning was not working on one side of the boat. It was finally time to go. He was probably really happy to see us leave. Sydney put her head in her hands. Apparently, I suffered from premature mastication. We found a safe anchorage at Pigeon Cay and stopped to assess the damage. It had been a day. We ate our smoked salmon wraps in silence, happy to be alive. We didn't need that duct tape after all. We went to be that night full of BBQ, rum, and the hope and promise of our first day at sea. Unfortunately for me, I was also full of something else. Sound carries. And smell travels. You have no choice but to flush. Even if it is a. Oh what a night. Entries - of Previous « Page.. Navigation Home page Table of contents Subscribe. Photography More photos

It’s a Buyer’s Market for Private Islands

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If you've ever fancied living in David Copperfield's home for the night and paying the equivalent of a decent house deposit for the pleasure, then you're in luck. Located in the southern Bahamas pristine Exuma Cay islands, Musha Cay is arguably the most luxurious private island in the world. It is a completely unspoiled tropical environment with sweeping stretches of flowers of flowers and swaying palms which seem to wave hello sun seekers. Take to the turquoise water on paddle boards. Play a match of tennis. Revitalize in the steam room after a long afternoon massage. The central and biggest home on the island is an expansive 10, sq. If you get tired of lying down in its luxurious sheets, then an equally appointed 5-bedroom home just across the way, or a charming guest villa, may offer some welcome relief. Each home on the island is stylized with a mixture of 'English colonial style architecture and laid back tropical flair. In the activity centre on the island there is a large dining room where all dozen and a half guests can sit down to a champagne soaked evening. Afterwards refreshments can be taken at the staffed bar before guests retire to the lounge to smoke a whopping cigar or to the billiard room to pot some balls and chat business. As one might expect from an island smack bang in the middle of the Bahamas, the weather is quite stunning most of the year. During the day this is best experienced via a paddle around the island home through the brilliant tropical waters. Outdoor showers, four hot tubs, hammocks, a massage room and a barbecue are there to help you kick back after indulging in some of the islands activities. They include a Nautilus Rib Catamaran, a jet boat, jet skis, a number of different sailboats and three top of the line Bombardier Sea Doos. In the warm evenings when the sunsets, the viewing dock offers an excellent vantage point to take in the views. Celebs TV Films. US Celebrity News Strictly. Mirror Choice. Follow us on social. In Your Area. Got A Story? Inside the world's most expensive Airbnb - and it's owned by David Copperfield. Follow Mirror. Facebook Twitter. Can we send you the Mirror Travel newsletter with weekly travel news and inspiration? This may include adverts from us and third parties based on our knowledge of you. More info. Story Saved.

Buy ganja online in Musha Cay