After so many days at uninhabited islands, we were ready for some civilization! Green Turtle Cay’s White Sound is a mix of a narrow channel, mooring balls, anchored boats, and busy marinas. Despite looking crowded, it never felt that way. Green Turtle turned out to be the laid back island we were looking for.
After an easy refueling stop at Green Turtle Club’s t-dock, the dockmaster helped us into our slip and we rushed off to truly enjoy some REAL SHOWERS (it’d been over a week!). Walking around the Green Turtle Club, I noticed everyone just seemed so darn happy! Staff seemed happy, guests seemed happy, fishing charter captains seemed happy. People who hadn’t seen each other in a year were exchanging hugs. Fishermen were showing off their catches. Everyone immediately came across as friendly and helpful. We couldn’t help but smile. Dave says hello to everyone so this just multiplied the good vibes.
Clean and refreshed, we were ready to hit the town- but New Plymouth is at least a 40 minute walk from the more touristy White Sound area, and we weren’t up for getting wet in the dinghy or changing our clothes to meet the Green Turtle Club restaurant dress code. The most popular form of travel on the island is by golf cart, but we’d already found out there were no more available today. We talked to the dockmaster, and he called a friend who is not officially a taxi but is willing to drive folks around. The guy didn’t answer his phone, so we decided, with some disappointment, on a shorter 10 minute walk to a nearby restaurant.
We’d just stepped onto the road, when a truck pulled over. A man leaned out the window and said, “Are you the ones looking for a ride? I’ll be back in 10 minutes!”
He returned promptly in a car and introduced himself – we’ll call him “Mr. Z” (obviously, not his real name). We said we were looking for “a good bar with some good food.” He said he’d take us to one spot, and if it wasn’t what we were looking for, he could keep taking us to more.
First stop was Pineapples, a bar just outside of town down a bumpy dirt road, that faces the water and has a very deep swimming pool within stumbling distance of the bar. Dave went to order a round of beers, and while we were waiting on them, I asked Dave if he thought we should arrange to have Mr. Z pick us up somewhere in town so we could check out the restaurants there without having to come back to Pineapples to meet him. “Oh he’s not leaving yet,” Dave said with a mischievous smile, “I’m buying him a beer.” With those words, I should have known it would be a fun night.
Next stop was Sundowners – Mr. Z said it should be popular tonight because Sax Man was playing – and sure enough the nearby parking lot was jam-packed with golf carts. Inside we found a pool table, a bar, a deck overlooking the soon-setting sun, and a stage where Sax Man was setting up. The place was crowded and getting more so, with both tourists and locals, and even families that seemed to be there for some sort of charity event. “Another round of beers?” Dave said and we all obliged.
The problem is, Dave is just thirstier than the rest of us. “Another round?” he said, before we were halfway through with our drinks. The rest of us laughed at our pitiful drinking abilities as he gleefully passed around more bottles of Kalik or Sands. Mr. Z told us Green Turtle is a great place with no crime – “No one dies here unless they are sick.” He told us about becoming a Bahamas resident (he’s from the Carribbean), the lack of rain the past 2 months, and the town’s important people and places, like the police officer, the school, and his wife’s business. Then finally, taking pitty on my small stature, as Dave calls for another round, Mr. Z told us the key to surviving a night out with Dave: “There is a female drink! The pink one!” Well, we have to try this – mercifully the next round we order is Sands Pink Radler – a 2% ABV beer that tastes like sparkling grapefruit juice. Everybody had one, and I wisely stuck to them for the rest of the night.
Maybe it was alcohol-induced hallucinations, but after Paul explained the green flash to Dave and Mr. Z, they swore they saw it as the sunset. Paul and I still don’t believe them. For any doubters the Green Flash is indeed a real thing.
After swaying to the music of Saxman for a very long time and singing along to Bob Marley tunes, we had worked up a pretty good buzz and one heck of an appetite. Dave knew that Lobster season was quickly coming to an end. “Mr. Z, do they sell Lobster dinners here?” he inquired. “Nah mon, but I know just the place,” he replied. After a short drive across the tiny town we arrived at the Wrecking Tree. “What does Wrecking mean?” Paul inquired. Mr. Z explained that Wrecking was once a big industry on the island of Green Turtle and throughout the Bahamas where locals would be licensed by the government to go salvage shipwrecks. The goods were then collected at the Wrecking tree before being transported to Nassau for auction. At one point the Bahamas had over 300 ships dedicated to wrecking and two-thirds of the islands’ exports were salvaged goods. This was all very interesting as we sipped on various local beers, but we were starving. Dave and Mr. Z ordered up the cracked lobster (cracked=fried) while Paul and I both got orders of cracked conch and Grouper. The fried conch and grouper was the best we’d ever had by far. We actually didn’t know conch could be so tender or grouper so flavorful. The portions were also huge so we struggled to finish them and have one more after-dinner beer.
Mr. Z, ever the gentleman, drove us home safely, but as I watched the golf carts scatter as the bars emptied out, there was the disturbing thought that in a country where you drive on the left, there are way too many partying Americans who might accidentally drive that golf cart on the right. When we arrived at the Green Turtle Club we asked how much for his services. “You guys don’t owe me anything, I had a blast, mon!” he replied. We gave him a nice tip and hearty handshake for showing us a tremendous time.
The next morning, we rented a golf cart and got a tour of the local real estate market and headed to town for lunch and groceries. Luckily, the lady at the golf cart rental declared, “Left to live!” as we pulled out and this became our mantra at every turn or anytime the driver got too close to the right.
After booking Dave’s flight and doing laundry (around $5 per load, ouch – it’s at least $4 everwhere here), we headed over to Coco Bay, where we heard some people feed the sea turtles.
We didn’t take any food for the turtles and the bay didn’t look like much at first glance. We couldn’t see a turtle or really any fish from the dock but we figured it would be nice to cool off even if we didn’t see anything. Paul was the first in and had barely made it into chest deep water when he exclaimed, “Turtle!” Soon we were surrounded by turtles and though we had no food for them, it did not stop them from wanting to eat! We quickly learned to keep our fists closed as an outstretched finger looks a lot like a piece of squid and greatly interests the turtles. The turtles swam with us until we got cold, occasionally dashing off then sneaking up behind us, popping up to breathe, or going to visit a boat that may give them a tasty morsel.
After our swim, we drove past Mr. Z. He rolled down the window, laughing about last night. With a promise to see him at Sundowners later, we headed to the Bluff House Tranquil Turtle Beach Bar, not realizing they closed in about half an hour, at 6:00. It is one of the most idyllic beach bars we have ever encountered and a worthy stop if you are in Green Turtle Cay. There was no one else there, so we had the deck, beach, hammocks, and palm trees to ourselves as the sun started to set. We watched the distant flames of a wildfire flicker over Great Abaco.
We ended our night at Sundowners, where we watched people dance and mingle, snacked on fried food and pizza, and took it easy as we would be traveling the next day. Unsure of the weather, we had debated taking the Green Turtle Ferry to Treasure Cay on Great Abaco (at $15 per person, one way) to see the island before Dave’s flight. This would allow us to avoid crossing the notorious “Whale Cay,” a short but potentially rough passage that requires you to leave the Sea of Abaco and be exposed broadside to ocean swell for 2 miles. Luckily, the latest weather report looked clear and we would be able to take our own boat through the Whale and around to Treasure Cay (ironically not a cay at all).
The next morning we prepared to cast off, and realized we were facing a conundrum: The boat to our port side had a dinghy on davits, easily sticking out of their slip 8 feet. The bow on the boat across from them stuck out nearly 10 feet. This meant we had very limited space to back out our boat into the fairway for a forward exit and wouldn’t be able to pivot around the piling without the potential for crashing into the neighbor’s dinghy. On top of that, the wind would be fighting us. With our heavy, under-powered, full-keeled boat, this was not an ideal situation. Precision is not our forte. Brute force is our specialty… Not a good combination here. The other option was to back our boat in the opposite direction, which would mean backing up for a longer distance. As we were debating this, yet another (super nice, super expensive) boat that was way longer than its slip pulled in, adding yet another obstacle to consider.
We started brainstorming with our starboard side neighbors, debating using his dinghy to tow us out, or redirect us if things went awry. We discussed numerous way to tie, control, and release our lines. We were somewhat limited in our options as the boat’s deck sat several feet below the dock, making it unsafe for any of us to leap onto the moving boat. We grabbed a dockhand and got his opinion as well. 6 people and 30 minutes later, we had a workable plan though Paul didn’t like it much. The dockhand controlled our bow while the neighbors helped with the stern. We smoothly backed into the fairway away from 2 of the 3 obstacle boats, waving and yelling “thank you!” to everyone who had helped. We continued to back until we cleared the last slip and fully exited the marina. Like they say, proper preparation prevents piss poor performance!