|Our storm jib|
If we play our cards right, we could spend two nights at Great Guana Cay and still get out through Galliot Cut with plenty of time to make a daylight hop down to Great Exuma. The winds were still blowing pretty briskly but Bruce considered that a GOOD thing. He wanted to try raising the storm sail just to see if he could. It’s a ratty old small, hanked on sail (that means it doesn’t go in the sail track or roll on the furler), that we’ve never used before.
|Needs some work...|
So while I kept the boat pounding into the wind, he messed around with trying to get the sail up. Finally it was flying and we were oinking along at a whopping 2.5 knots… and falling. So, reluctantly, he took the sail down and we continued on with bare poles to our planned anchorage near Great Guana Cay. We were both delighted with the vision of the place and picked out a spot at the north end of the Oven Rock Anchorage. We took a while getting the anchor to set as there seemed to be a lot of shallow sand over rock. Finally the anchor dug in, but it was too late to explore. N23°59.291, W076°20.083
We beached the dinghy on the sand just near Oven Rock and walked along the sandstone shelf beach to find a rock cairn signifying the entrance to the trail.
|The beach was more like a rock shelf|
Bruce reverently placed his stone on the top and we began our trek.
The path wasn’t always obvious, but it was well worn enough that we didn’t get lost. The tricky forks were marked by some previous traveler with extra hard-hats on hand, with… hardhats.
We climbed to near the highest point of the island and could look out over the anchorage where our boat lie peacefully. With a turn of the head head the sparkling variegated blues and greens of the Atlantic sprawled at our feet.
|There's our hardhat|
|You can barely see the entrance from the trail|
|Until you climb through the brush to see this!|
|Yes, I went in first...|
|That thing in the middle is a five gallon bucket collecting drips|
|Looking back at the entrance from down inside|
|Strange greenish formation on the floor|
We swam from one rock to the next until there were no more, then we backtracked to the dinghy and hefted our shivering selves aboard. The sun was beginning it’s descent but it was still warm as we turned next to that aforementioned white sand beach.
There are so many places to see and so little time. This life would be perfect if we could somehow control the weather… It would be nice to spend another night here, or maybe move on down the coast a bit and check out Little Farmer’s Cay… but that will have to wait for another day. Time and weather force us to leave this particular paradise. But maybe there will be others. Of course there will be others. If only EVERY day could be like this day...