The Caicos Bank

[Kyle]We waited an hour or so after sunrise before leaving South Caicos in order to give the tide a chance to come up a bit. As we left the harbor, we waved and tooted our horn at our newfound friends from the SFS. They were so good to us.

We left the shallow harbor and within seconds of entering the Caicos passage, we had gone off soundings in a thousand meters of water. We encountered our first other sailboat, a British boat, on their way into the harbor from the open sea. We took the opportunity to encourage them to visit the school and wished each other a safe journey. It had been pretty windy the night before and they all looked like they could use a calm harbor as they waved hello to us.

We turned to the south along the outside of Long Cay, then re-entered the Caicos Bank there, as it was too shallow to cut across from the harbor directly. I imagine that if you could drain the Atlantic of all of its water, the Caicos Bank would look like the Tibetan Plateau; a flat mesa atop mountains rising thousands of feet from below. While they are not dredged channels, there are several named routes across the bank that are relatively well travelled. While not completely free of hazards, they are mostly safe if done in daylight wearing a good pair of polarized sunglasses to spot the occasional coral head or rock. Our shallow draught just allowed us to take one of the less travelled routes known as the “Clear Sand Channel” provided we went in the upper half of the tide cycle and anchored midway.

We were soon skimming through pool blue water just fifteen feet above the sand below. This went on for miles and miles. The water depth decreased until we could see individual clumps of sea grass as we passed overhead. We reduced sail to slow down just in case we hit something (Maryanne: he means "to give us more time to avoid hitting anything"). The last mile or so, we were crawling along at only a couple of knots in water about a third of a meter above our draught. It was high tide. We wouldn’t be able to get much further, so we anchored in a meter and a half in what should be the shallowest water of the crossing, and settled in until the next day. Begonia hovered over her own shadow in crystal clear water over course sand. The only land visible was way in the far distance to the north.

That last hour was very nerve-wracking. We got through the checklist quickly as I was very eager to don mask and fins and see just how much water was under our keels and what the bottom looked like. We had about a forearm length over uniform sand that went on as far as I could see.

Skinny water - dotted with mixed sealife (in the foreground a black sea sponge)

I looked around further just to see what was around. There was lots of interesting marine life down there, but no fish. I found some coral (mostly soft, some hard), lots of big sponges, some tubeworms and a couple of conch. {Maryanne: There was a reasonable patch of red fan worms that we swam over, it always makes me giggle as they so suddenly retract and appear to disappear instantly - the red seabed turning to sand alone in a wave as we approach}.

Later on, Maryanne went in with me at around the tide state we were planning on leaving. Our keel clearance had dropped to a hand’s width in the falling tide. As we found one interesting thing or another, we would be able to find a clear spot in the sand, stand up in chest high water and discuss it before plunging back in.

Exploring the seabed from Begonia

By the time we got back to Begonia, the water was just above my belly button and the keels were two inches from the sand. I was able to hop aboard without using the swim ladder. Since the two nearest tide prediction stations are twenty miles on either side of us, we had only an estimate for low tide time and level, but it seemed we must be almost there.

As we sat in the cockpit watching the last of the light drain from the sky and the stars come out, we started to notice more and more frequent bumps as we began to bottom out in the small swell. It got more frequent and annoying, then eased up as the keels were touching the bottom more of the time. The process reversed itself over the next hour or so until we were again floating peacefully miles from shore, but only inches above the bottom.

South Caicos

[Kyle]We spent a full day in Cockburn Harbor on South Caicos, starting with a dinghy ride over to a couple of the snorkeling spots recommended by the SFS staff.

The first was a place called Shark Alley. The SFS was busy at the moment doing a lot of shark related work. When we first visited, several of the students were repairing the nets they used for catching the sharks they would then measure, tag and release. We got the impression the harbor was lousy with several different species. We didn’t end up finding any sharks, but spotted a few stingrays and a fairly healthy looking coral reef ecosystem.

Sting rays, coral and fish - a great snorkel site!

We moved on to a place called the Admiral’s Aquarium, which was an SFS educational site complete with concrete blocks covered with signs describing various species that seemed amazingly well placed. The Barracuda sign was right next to a school of Barracuda. I want to wipe the growth off of another and had an adorable little fish pecking at my fingers as I cleared off the sign. It turned out to be describing a little Damselfish that will fight to defend its little patch of algae.

Admiral's Aquarium includes notes! How cool is that?

The tide had been coming in all morning and the current had been fierce as a result. We had to swim like crazy to get ahead of the pudgy, then we could rest drifting back down. We were pretty tired at the end of the whole thing, so it was fortunate that James invited us to lunch at the SFS.

There was a mountain of food as if they were accustomed to feeding a bunch of teenage scuba divers. We did our best to make a respectable dent, but they still had a mountain of leftovers for later.

The school was busy, so we really only had time over lunch for introductions and the index card versions of each other’s stories. James offered to pick us up later for dinner in an SFS boat, so we wouldn’t have to deal with the dinghy. We headed back to Begonia armed with the code for their strong wifi as the students and staff got back to work.

James arrived with his friend, Molly, at the appointed time, which was early enough for us to give them the tour and spend some time in the cockpit chatting. Both James and Molly are the kind of amazing people who leave you feeling like you’ve done nothing in your life. It was nice to spend time with them.

We headed out to SFS and caught the last of dinner. With a more open-ended schedule, we were able to get to know people a lot better. Heidi, the woman in charge of the whole place, used to live aboard her sailboat in Philadelphia. From there, she moved to a houseboat in Puerto Rico before selling up and moving to the Turks and Caicos to run the SFS. She made us promise to tell any other boaters we knew that they are all more than welcome at the SFS.

Following dinner, the students were given their assignments for the evening to prepare for a public outreach day the next day. We joined the staff at their partitioned off section of the school for more socializing. Relieved of the need to set a good example, everyone seemed to suddenly be holding a beer. Beer is pretty expensive in the T&C, so I was surprised to see an apparent abundance. Well, it turns out most of the staff have become home brew enthusiasts as a way to keep costs down. Their craft is now getting quite advanced. Maryanne and I shared a Presidente (beer) to keep from dwindling their limited stock, but we did get to taste a couple of their own varieties and I must say they were pretty good. [Maryanne]A big thank you to all the staff and friendly faces at the SFS - you made our trip there so much more amazing!

Moving to South Caicos

[Kyle]From Salt Cay, we pulled up anchor and headed dead downwind on a course perpendicular to the shore. Seas were flat in the protection of the island and grew to a slow relaxing swell by the time we were on the other side of the Caicos Passage. Maryanne made a delicious breakfast of cream cheese-stuffed French toast and we passed the rest of the time tidying up and rereading (out loud to each other) Bill Bryson’s “Notes From a Small Island”.

Salt Cay disappeared over the horizon at about the four-mile mark; about the same time the much hillier South Caicos came into view eighteen miles ahead. As we made the turn into the harbor a quick survey with the binoculars once again turned up no other anchored boats. None. How is that possible? Did everybody just decide to stay up north and get snowed on this winter?

South Caicos!

We dropped the anchor at the edge of a little patch of sand surrounded by sea grass. After doing the usual post anchoring checks (the last of which included various engine fluid checks followed by a big hug of thanks to each 65°C [147°F] engine block for not letting us down) I was ready to jump in with the excuse of checking the security of the anchor. It was nicely buried in the soft sand, but I decided to linger a bit to get a second data point. In the meantime, I spotted a couple of anemones and an urchin. I also took the opportunity to look over Begonia’s underwater bits. She only had the slightest coloring of green starting and only a very few tiny barnacles, I don’t get it. I mean, I’m grateful, but I don’t get it. Three days in Bristol Harbor and scraping the bottom was like pulling up a layer of sod.

I got out and deployed the dinghy, which made me hot enough to need to jump in again. I had expected this and was still wearing my dripping swim shorts. The tide was going down and our keels were now a foot and a half above the grass.

We gathered our things and headed out for a reconnaissance of the town. I already liked it better. The Turk Islands are very flat, but South Caicos had just enough hilliness to give the land some texture. Also, from the anchorage, several islands could be seen in the distance across the blue Caicos Bank.

As in all the T&C Islands so far, we find both Horses and Donkeys roaming around - adorable (except for the poop!)

Maryanne: like most islands in the western Atlantic tropics, it isn't really all postcard perfect views. Dominating the scene are often roaming dogs, a rusting steel wreck in the harbor, dust, litter, junk cars and general abandoned feel to the infrastructure, punctuated with the occasional newly built store, hotel or government building. In this case of South Caicos we are so far off the tourist track that we didn’t find any typical tourist attractions ashore (not even post card vendors!). But even here, every so often, there is a cracking picture postcard view that avoids any of the less attractive parts of the islands, and reminds us that we are so lucky to be exploring the tropics.

[Kyle] We did a circuit of the town and found nothing of much interest. I spotted a big decrepit house on top of a hill and instinctively wanted to go there to see what the view was like from its vantage point. As we were eye-balling our way in that general direction, we suddenly became swarmed with aggressively ravenous mosquitoes. We have had no bug problems to date in the Turks and Caicos, but these little terrors were making up for it.

Kyle wanted to get closer to this house on the hill, but had to make do with an old lighthouse(?) in the end

We climbed up toward the house by cutting through what seemed like a fancy hotel’s half-built grounds or perhaps a private compound, moving fast and swatting at ourselves like we had gone mad. We only stopped long enough to get pictures of the beautiful views of the harbor below.

We descended to the beach, walked a little further, and then as quickly as it had started, our mosquito problem stopped. Well, we don’t think we’ll be going into that part of town again! Wouldn’t it be unfortunate to buy a house there and then after the fact find out you lived in *that* part of town?

We came across a place along the sea cliffs that clearly used to be somewhere impressive. An empty pool covered in graffiti lay at the edge of a large expanse of tile on several levels, which were bordered by giant pots that seemed to be intended for palm trees. Perhaps the place was destroyed in a hurricane and it turned out not to be worth rebuilding. What a shame.

A little further on, we came across the tiny, three-boat harbor of the SFS, the School for Field Studies. The SFS is an American based organization involved in collecting scientific data from various world locations, in this case for the study of Marine Biology. Maryanne noticed that one of the boats looked as though it still had its navigation lights on, so she went to find someone to tell while I snapped pictures.

The first person she came across was a young man named James. He had a mild, east Scottish accent. She inquired about it and after a few back-and-forths, soon found out he was the son of a friend of hers, Clare, from the University of St. Andrews where Maryanne had received her Marine Biology degree.

[Maryanne]Despite understanding the statistics of chance, I was still quite beautifully shocked that the one person I had happened to stop to talk with also happened to be a son of a friend and SCUBA guru from Scotland. Of course I haven’t met with Clare since I finished studying and living in St Andrews (back in 2002) but she is one of those amazing women who to excel at everything she cares to spend any time on; someone not at all forgettable (and of course we have remained Facebook friends so get to peak into each other’s lives occasionally).

James and the SFS grounds

Anyway, meeting James led us to a tour of the SFS. After walking around the dusty town entering the doors of the SFS was surreal, setting foot into a different world completely. At the entrance was Lula, a dog recently hit by a truck, secure in a cage while the SFS are helping Lula recuperate. The veranda and courtyard was full of people active at various tasks, mostly on computers, but some mending research nets, etc.). At least 50 people might call the SFS ‘home’ at any time. The property grounds include a small and inviting swimming pool; apparently it used to be either a hotel or a villa where Columbian drug barrens would stop on the delivery trips back and forth to the USA. There is a great view of the harbor, and a feeling of being quite separate from the rest of the island town. EVERYONE was friendly and spoke, smiled or nodded at us as we were given the tour. We left with some snorkelling suggestions, and invites for both lunch and dinner at the SFS the following day. Until meeting James we were seriously wondering how we might spend our time at South Caicos, and now we were booked solid!

Salt Cay

[Kyle]One of the unfortunate but understandable nuances of Begonia’s electrical system is that the electric anchor windlass will not operate unless the port engine is running. This is because the windlass draws so much current that it would kill the batteries very quickly without an engine driven alternator constantly helping out. This has effectively removed two of my favorite maneuvers from our repertoire: anchoring and leaving under sail.

Since we had picked up a dive boat mooring the night before in Grand Turk, and since it wasn’t in a crowded mooring field, we got to raise sail, throw off the mooring pendant, and sail off all without having to start the engines. That’s a nice way to start the day.

We unrolled the jib and had a nice, fast sail to Salt Cay, just ten miles to the south of Grand Turk and still within distant sight of taller structures back in Cockburn Town. We dropped anchor right outside of the little fishing harbor and again were the only visiting boat on the island.

Begonia visits another of the salt producing islands of the Turks and Caicos

We made our plans for the day and then filled a backpack with supplies. We started off walking a counter-clockwise course around the saltpans that form the center of the island. As we were passing by the primary school, a friendly voice came from behind.

“Yoo, hoo! Have you seen our flamingoes?”

We hadn’t actually, as they were still in the far distance, but once they were pointed out, they were as clear as day.

The woman attached to the friendly voice introduced herself as Jennifer. Her husband Jay was off cleaning a couple of fish we had seen him catch as we rowed the pudgy to shore. She walked and talked with us for a while and then asked us if we had been to the White House – the one on the island, not the more famous one in Washington, D.C. It was the principal landmark on the island and probably the largest structure. We just happened to be walking past it right then.

We said we hadn’t and she promptly invited us in. She and Jay were staying as guests of the owner, their friend Tim, who was off collecting people from Grand Turk. The White House is almost two hundred years old and is enormous. It has been in Tim’s family for generations and he is making a valiant effort to keep on top of the restoration and upkeep himself, with regular assistance from Jay, Jennifer and others.

As the house is so huge, their strategy seems to be to start at a couple of corners and gradually spread to the rest of the house, the far ends of which are still fairly derelict. What they have done is stunning, and the house feels as if we had stepped right into the nineteenth century.

Visiting the 'white house' of Salt Cay

Jay appeared, cleaned his fish in the kitchen and then we all sat around talking for almost three hours about a little bit of everything. Tim even breezed through briefly and surprised us. He looked way more like a full time surfer/diver than the owner of the most stately home on Salt Cay.

We could have happily stayed the rest of the day chatting, but it was our only day on the island, so we bid one of those reluctant goodbyes that seems to go on forever and resumed our circuit of the island.

It had warmed up considerably since we first sat down in the White House’s shaded veranda. It wasn’t long before our leisurely walk around the island started to feel like a shadeless trudge across a sunbaked desert.

The white house from the other side of the salt pond, and Maryanne gains a little shade from her umbrella on our walk-about

When we got to the far side in the northeast, the homes had long since vanished and we were left alone in the scrub brush walking an increasingly unimproved path. Occasionally, we would come up on a feral mule or cow and the further we went; the more surprised they seemed to see us. They weren’t startled, but seemed to be wondering what on earth we were doing out there. Their stares followed us until we were out of sight.

After a long enough slog through the heat and a barren terrain, Kyle was especially pleased to find the North beach and don his snorkel gear

We passed through one last herd of cattle, who looked simultaneously surprised and too heat-exhausted to get out of our way, before we finally fetched up on the beautiful white semi-circle of the beach on the north side of the island. We had thought about anchoring here, but decided it would be best to be by “town” instead and that we could just walk to the snorkelling spot, rather than vice versa.

Maryanne had decided in advance that it was too much of a kerfuffle, but I was quick to don the snorkel gear I had dragged with me all day and get in the inviting blue water to cool off while she read a book on the beach under an umbrella, looking like my own personal lifeguard.

The sea was pretty churned up, so the visibility was less than I’d hoped for, but humans infrequently visited the coral, so it seemed to be in fairly good shape and there were many different types. My big find of the day was a large colony of about fifty conch nestled in the sand at the edge of one of the reefs.

Sea fans and conch on the seabed

Once I got out and changed, we continued overland, sometimes on trails, sometimes not, until we finally intercepted a definite footpath leading over the cliffs separating the north side of the island from our anchorage.

After a short walk and some stunning views, we settle down for refreshments

We were pretty beat by then, so we pulled up a couple of chairs at the restaurant/bar overlooking the spot where we pulled the pudgy up onto the beach. It wasn’t long before we were spotted and the restaurant was magically open. We ordered a couple of beers and then a couple of things off of the menu. Maryanne had conch and fries. I had a tuna quesadilla. Both were very good. We even topped it off with a slice of key lime pie for dessert.

When it came time for the check, our waiter and cook Anye came up with a number off of the top of his head that seemed way too high. The menu was printed with prices of everything except the beers, so we had some idea what to expect. Maryanne questioned him on this and he rattled off the prices of the various items, most of which were wrong, and the total of which came to nowhere near his original total. He then quoted a VAT rate of 11% (there is no VAT on the island!) and then got that math way wrong when he added it in. He had been very friendly and the food he made was very good, so we rounded the final number up with a fairly generous tip, then bid him farewell to close the restaurant behind us. As we rowed away, we kept going over the whole conversation in our heads and the more time that passed, the more we were convinced that it wasn't simply a math(s) error on his behalf, but we got scammed. Nowhere else we had been had added tax to the price of things. It may have been a portion of the item prices to make for a nice, round bill, but it hadn’t been added on after the fact. We did more research and it turns out the proposed VAT had been voted down earlier in the year. Anye had just scammed a 50% tip from the “rich” Americans he will never see again. If curses work, he’s going to have to spend the whole thing on ointment.

{Maryanne: As Kyle said, the food was good, and until that point we'd enjoyed Anye's company. Luckily the day on the island was more than balanced with the kindness of Jennifer, Jay and Tim along with others we'd met}

Exploring Grand Turk

[Kyle]We spent the whole day anchored outside Cockburn Town at Grand Turk. Unlike the previous day, not one, but two cruise ships had arrived and even by 8am the town was full of the bustle of milling cruise ship passengers and locals selling trinkets from market stalls. Boats were zipping by to nearby snorkeling sites and ashore tourist trains with cute carriages (all designed for the road) were delivering passengers to the various attractions. There were also bicycle and Segway tours were guiding a snaking trail of followers on tours of the island.

Today we have to share the island, but at least all the museums are open!

I have mixed feelings about this. The town was completely overrun with gawking tourists, yet everything was suddenly open and accessible. Despite being assumed as cruise ship passengers once we went ashore, all the locals were exceedingly friendly.

We started our day at the small, but well presented National Museum, and moved on to the (otherwise empty of tourists) Prison Museum, before Maryanne found us a place where we had a delicious and reasonable lunch (with beer) for under $15. As we made our order we were warned that a bus tour was about to arrive; we should pick our table quickly and be prepared to share. We ended up sharing a table with a very nice couple from one of the cruise ships, they explained that tomorrow they would be in Jamaica; Wow! Jamaica tomorrow – that would take us DAYS to get there. They turned out to also be sailors, from the Baltimore area, and it was fun to swap stories and see their amazement at our adventures.

After lunch we discovered that the Philatelic Museum (where Maryanne had hoped to purchase and send postcards afar) was shut (it was moved to the cruise ship terminal for the day; a little too far for us to walk). We then set out for the salt pond museum. Salt was the main industry in Grand Turk since being occupied by westerners (and their slaves); an annex of Bermuda, much of the low land was set aside to produce salt for the world beyond. Just as we arrived, a woman in a car leaving the property called from the car window to tell us they had just closed (the last of the cruise ships had left the island for the day). We ambled in anyway to enjoy the grounds, which provided us a sighting of the island’s endangered flamingos (yay). By then it was mid-afternoon. With the cruise ships departed, most tourist stuff was shut down again. We decided to stop by one of the many local supermarkets for a few provisions. We bought four items for a million dollars (probably delivered from that freight ship that prevented us landing yesterday).. oh well, it was fun to feel like a local and it was a well stocked store.

Visiting Her Majesty's Prison (Museum)

One amusing thing about a walk, since most cruise ships seem to leave by early afternoon, we stood out! Every third or forth car that passed us slowed, and offered us a ride back to the ship. White people on the island seem fairly rare, and those on foot even rarer (unless of course, they are a cruise ship passenger). We waved them off and politely gave our thanks for their consideration. As the day progressed, we sensed their increasing concern that we might miss our ship’s departure if we refused their ride. Once, within sight of Begonia, I explained we were fine and we were walking back to our boat, to which the driver replied it is ‘WAY too far to walk back to the boat’ the joke was on him, we could see our boat and the dingy dock was only a block away.

Visiting the Salt ponds

We were just about ready to pile our groceries into our dingy when we decided to stop again at our lunch stop and share a quick snack – which turned out the be the last meal they would prepare for anyone that day. As we finished our meal, we saw the last of the cruise ships heading over the horizon and once again the town was subdued leaving just the locals and us as the two remaining tourists.

What a beautiful place to explore

With the cruise ships gone and the tour operations complete for the day, we knew it was safe to reposition Begonia on to one of the nearby sturdy snorkel site moorings for the night. With about an hour of daylight remaining we quickly donned snorkel and masks for a glimpse of the third largest barrier reefs in the world. We were met in the water by curious fish (some of which seemed to follow us around) as we made our way around our immediate area. It was of medium quality as far as snorkel sights go, but there were several interesting corals and many varieties of fish. I even saw a manta ray. The coolest thing was that we were right on the edge of the island shelf. From a few yards of our mooring the sea quickly drops from 15 feet to several thousand. The Caicos passage is the Atlantic’s third deepest trench and it was humbling to float over it and wonder what was lurking in those deep blue depths beyond the reef. It was right at sunset when we climbed out of the water and returned to Begonia, a perfect time for a glass of wine in the cockpit.

Ending the Passage in Grand Turk

[Kyle]After the big storm the wind clocked around to the north-east and we gradually bent a course south and then south-southwest towards Grand Turk. The wind was still fairly strong so the big waves remained with us, and it was not until we were almost there that moving around the boat felt relatively safe again.

As we progressed south, ticking off the minutes of latitude with each hour, temperatures gradually increased (water and air) until by the time we reached Grand Turk the water temperature was 35°C (95°F) and the night time low air temperature in the cockpit was 27°C (81°F).

With the disruption of the storm passed, the trade winds were free to resume their normal pattern. We realized that with the speeds we were making we would arrive mid-day on Sunday. Since the Turks and Caicos only allows 7 day stays without paying a significant extra fee, we wanted to be sure to arrive first thing in the morning so as not to waste one of our seven days as a partial day. (Arriving in the morning light is also prudent to identify and avoid any coral heads). Additionally arriving on a Sunday carries extra overtime fees. Since we were in no hurry, we decided to slow down and arrive with first light to enter the harbor on the Monday. We needed to reduce our speed to about 4.5 knots from the 7-8 the winds were making easy for us. We reduced sail, and then again, until we had about a half a knot above our target speed and a tiny scrap of genoa to catch the wind and assist in steering. It felt strange to be deliberately trying to go slowly but there was no point in arriving any earlier than daybreak on the Monday.

Midway between the Mona Passage (dividing Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic) and the Windward Passage (dividing Haiti and Cuba) there was little shipping traffic to be seen. We did however spot a couple of cargo ships crossing our path travelling to San Juan from Florida. A few miles later I spotted our first bird for days – a booby flying by. I lost sight of it for a second and poked my head out of the cockpit to search for it. I found it perched on one of our spreaders, attempting to secure itself to the gyrating mast. He fortunately gave up before soiling our boat but I knew land was not far off.

Shortly after reducing sail the wind picked up even more, and we spent perhaps half a day being pushed rapidly downwind towards our destination with no sail at all. At last at about 3am on the Monday we spotted the first lights of Grand Turk Island: a TV tower and then the lighthouse at the northern point. Since the island is low and flat, almost all the remaining lights materialized at the same time with only 8 miles to go.

At the very first hint of daylight we passed into the lee of the reef extending from the North side of the island, and for the first time in days had flat seas. I woke Maryanne and she helped me to prepare for landing at the government dock to the southwest of the Island. We arrived at the same time as the inter island freighter and so allowed them to tie up first (on the Southern side of the government pier). We pulled up to the northern side and were told by a worker (shouting to Maryanne on the bow) that we needed to wait a short while until they left to tie up to the South side (later we discovered homeland-security type restrictions prohibited us from being so close to unloading cargo). We assumed that would mean the dock would be available shortly and motored off the pier waiting for them to leave. We ended up loitering for over two hours before we realized the freighter was not leaving any time soon, and gave up and anchored. As we had approached the dock initially we had attempted to call the customs office or harbormaster with no success.

While we were hovering around and awaiting our turn at the dock a medium size cruise ship arrived and attempted to dock at the adjacent terminal. We listened in at their conversations with their island agent and from that understood that they only had one working bow-thruster and were unable to dock in the conditions of wind and current. They waited 40 minutes and made one more try but then abandoned Turks & Caicos as a destination and sailed away (those poor passengers).

After we’d been loitering off the pier for some time we tried again on the radio and were answered by ‘Bonefish’ who explained he was a private citizen and that there was no current harbormaster. He asked us where we were, and agreed to meet us at the government pier in 45 minutes. When the time came, he called us back and confirmed that he had spoken with the freighter people and verified they weren’t leaving any time soon (and even then there was another cargo vessel expected to arrive shortly after). We were instructed to anchor nearby and dinghy to shore.

We had setup the boat to tie up to the dock, our dinghy wasn’t ready (still in lifeboat mode) – so we had a sudden rush to anchor and prepare ourselves to row ashore; all with the pressure of knowing someone was now waiting on us! All this while having not slept since my watch began at midnight.

On the way to meet me at the beach, Bonefish had stopped at the customs office to let them know we were here and their services were needed at the government dock even though the cruise ship had already left. I splashed ashore and Bonefish introduced himself and helped me pull the dingy up to the high tide line. He then escorted me (with his jeep) to the government offices for clearance. Bonefish has no official capacity; He says he can hardly remember whatever his real name is. He’s retired and listens in on the VHF 24 hours a day and makes it his hobby to assist visiting boaters in any way he can. He is a native of the Turks Islands, but has worked in the USA and has and what sounds to me like an American accent. He doesn’t have a boat. We were very grateful for his assistance, as I would have headed in the wrong direction to an empty government office and wasted significant time in hot and muggy climate searching for all the things that were required to clear in appropriately. He also diverted to show me the best restaurants, and pick up tourist brochures along with giving me history of the island in a guided tour.

As for the government offices, it turned out they did not to exist at all! They had been completely torn down and were undergoing a three-month rebuild. Customs turned out to be a very nice woman working from her car with the all of the spare seats filled with file boxes full of forms. I completed the necessary paperwork kneeling in the parking lot while trying to keep the various documents and forms from being blown away in the trade winds. That is definitely a first for us to ‘clear in’ outdoors – no desk or seats or printer! Immigration arrived shortly thereafter in his own car and we repeated the process of flapping forms and a clipboard in the parking lot. With fees paid and forms stamped we were officially in the country.

I had indicated that I wanted to move to the main town anchorage and Bonefish was kind enough to detour me there in his jeep to give me advice on the best holding, the location of the dingy dock, etc. On the return journey he even stopped at immigration to collect my receipt for the $15 fee (which they still didn’t have). As I was waiting outside in Bonefish’s jeep, I called Maryanne on our portable VHF to let her know we were official and I’d be home in 15 minutes. With the news that she was no longer confined to the boat she quickly took the opportunity to jump in to the clear blue water and swim to the beach to meet me. We took a few photos from the government end of town, and then returned and moved Begonia to the main town anchorage.

We had expected a bustling anchorage and to be jostling for space and swinging room. It turned out we are the only visiting boat on the island and the only tourists. It was surreal. I mentioned this to Bonefish earlier when he was showing me the anchorage. He explained that most visiting sailboats don’t start showing up until mid December.

Ah, of course! Maryanne and I were here basically as a stopover on the offshore passage to Panama. We would have had to sail practically within sight of the islands on the way, so it seemed silly not to stop. Our arrival time was basically determined by the need to be out of North Carolina before the winter gales started.

Most cruisers, however, pass through on the so-called “Thorny Path”, an uncomfortable route beating to windward from island to island that stretches from Florida to the Windward Islands. The advantage of the route is that none of the gaps between islands is more than one hundred miles so it is possible to pick your weather to a degree. Most of this group is just leaving Florida now. The Turks and Caicos will see them one more time, again as a group, taking the easy route home probably around mid March. We seem to have beat the crowds again.

One of the unfortunate things about arriving by boat rather than airplane is that there is immediately a ton of work to do to secure the boat and this prevents us from jumping right in to tourist mode. We burned though the jobs as quickly as we could, but soon I succumbed to fatigue, and decided on a nap before any fun could be had. Maryanne awoke me with a couple of remaining hours of daylight, and we headed ashore to gain our bearings in the small Cockburn Town (which is also the capital for the country). With no cruise ship, and with it being later in the afternoon, we found most stores closed, and the few that remained seemed in the last stages of their day.

Arriving at the dinghy dock, it was not long before we spotted our first of many wild donkeys

We walked the empty streets populated as much with the infrequent car as wild donkeys. We doubled back through dark and abandoned streets toward a restaurant that Bonefish had driven me by and recommend as ‘Not the best, but the most consistently good’. The island had suffered a downturn since the last major hurricane and was still struggling to rebuild. Many of the properties were unusable and abandoned, and many were for sale (some of the for sale signs were falling down!). Once we actually arrived at the restaurant and checked out the menu we found it expensive and uninspiring, and returned unfed to Begonia for the evening. {Maryanne: Luckily we'd found a bakery on our evening wander and purchased a nice pastry for breakfast.. so we just ate it on our walk back to the dingy to keep us going!

Of course a HUGE thank you to Bonefish for easing us into the country and assisting us with clearance. We were so greatful for this amazing act of kindness on his behalf.}

The island is made up of 'fancy' tourist boutiques, and mixed quality living accommodation (with new and historic mansions and with plenty on the more simple end of the spectrum)