Winds Of Change On Great Guana Bay - Text-only Version

You are reading the text-only copy of this article. To access the article as it appeared in PassageMaker Magazine, please log in to purchase and download the PDF version of this article.

The Abacos in the Bahamas, long known for their natural beauty, casual atmosphere, and friendly residents, seem to be facing change. Protected waters among the Abaco Cays enable cruisers to move about easily to enjoy pristine stretches of deserted white beach, fascinating reefs, and limitless anchorage possibilities.

No high-rise casinos here—just small, family-run cottage colonies, intimate resorts, and bars at which shoes and shirts definitely are optional. But as my husband, Lee, and I discovered during last winter’s cruise south on our 43-foot Marine Trader, Terrapin, the winds of change are piping up in Abaco. Nowhere is this more evident than on Great Guana Cay (pronounced “key”). We visited Guana several times and wonder if we were fortunate to see the island at its natural best as it attempts to strike a balance between preservation of its natural character and the inevitable march of development.

We left Maine in October. After a stint in Florida, we made an uneventful crossing of the Gulf Stream in early February to Marsh Harbour on Great Abaco Island. There, we joined hundreds of boaters who listen faithfully each morning at 0815 to the Cruisers’ Net on VHF Channel 68, ably hosted by Pattie Toler and her husband, Barometer Bob. Over morning coffee, we heard daily weather reports, news, and offers of assistance, as well as distinctive voices from throughout the Abacos touting the week’s dive trips, restaurant specials, fundraisers, and special events.

After a week or two of hearing about Chef Jay’s Saturday night prime rib at Guana’s Blue Water Grill, Gerry’s seafood specials at Guana Seaside Village, and Johnny’s notorious Sunday afternoon pig roast at Nipper’s on Guana, we decided it was time to visit the island. Our first stop was secluded Baker’s Bay on the island’s northwestern tip, less than an hour from Marsh Harbour in our 8-knot boat. Beautiful Baker’s Bay often is used by boats waiting to transit Whale Cay Passage, the sometimes treacherous cut between the Atlantic Ocean and the Sea of Abaco. In certain conditions, this pass can easily develop a “rage” of 8- to 10-foot seas. But on the day we arrived, only a line of foamy turquoise surf gently broke the horizon in the distance.

Anchoring in 8 feet of sparkling, clear water, a comfortable distance from the few other boats dotted about the spacious bay, we took our dinghy for a leisurely putter along the white, sandy shoreline. Our binoculars brought into view a small group of wooden structures beneath the trees. On closer inspection, it turned out to be the Sunset Bar and Grille—a rustic picnic area, conjuring images of a shipwrecked Robinson Crusoe.

A bit farther north along the shore, a buoy on a stick marked a pathway into the brush. Beaching the dinghy, we followed the trail, finding along the way a wispy pine tree hung with the shoes of passersby who apparently had realized “barefoot in the Bahamas” was the way to go. It was a short walk to the Atlantic, where waves crashed ominously on the beach, in contrast to the placid waters of our anchorage.

Returning to the dinghy, we continued north toward a circle of deteriorating gray posts looming eerily up from the waters of the bay. These skeletal remains of an old dolphin pen, along with a rotting dock, are the defining characteristics of Baker’s Bay.

FAILED VENTURES

As we circled about the old pen searching for the perfect spot to beach the dinghy, the sky darkened, casting a gray-green light over the bay. After securing our dinghy next to an old picnic table all but submerged in sand, we climbed onto the boardwalk and passed through the formerly thatchroofed portal leading to the island’s interior. It was, in fact, the gateway to one of Abaco’s failed ventures—Treasure Island.

In the 1990s, developers of this former day stop for cruise ships dredged a deep channel from Whale Cay Passage to the dock site and built onshore facilities designed to evoke tropical fantasies for visiting passengers. Although the resort operated for several years, prudent cruise ship captains were unwilling to risk their large vessels in mercurial Whale Cay Passage in less than ideal conditions. The developers finally turned their backs on the site, leaving this a ghost resort on the northern end of Great Guana Cay.

The dark gray skies created the perfect backdrop for our exploration. No doubt once meticulously maintained, the rotting boardwalk wound, through pines and palms overgrown with unruly vines, to an aging amphitheater. The klieg lights were still in place, as if ready to illuminate some ghostly performance. We walked past old snack huts and through covered tiki bars whose pillaged tiles may now grace the kitchens of ransackers. A crow’s nest–style observation tower reached into the sky. Here, the remains of old restrooms and their attendant facilities littered the grounds; there, a rusting fleet of jet skis languished behind an old maintenance shed.

Were we some of the last cruisers to explore this unique spot in the Bahamas? This area is once again slated for development, this time with high-end housing, an upscale marina, and an 18-hole golf course. The project—if it goes forward—could alter the character of Baker’s Bay forever.

As we returned to the boat, a chop was building on the bay, scuttling our plans to snorkel in the reef off the white-sand beach round the northern tip of Guana. However, the chop did not stop Lee from heading off to Shell Island (created from the dredge’s spoils) for some fishing. We spent the night rolling with building waves from the ocean cut. By morning, the winds had turned strongly westward, prompting us to leave Guana for the time being.

A week or two later, the winds were favorable for west-facing anchorages. Johnny from Nipper’s was raving on the Cruiser’s Net about the upcoming concert by island-renowned Barefoot Man, who would be performing at that Sunday’s pig roast. We headed back to Guana.

Settlement Harbour at the island’s southern end was crowded, so we motored around the corner to lovely Fisher’s Bay. There, the Blue Water Grill (of prime rib fame) and a few vacation homes peep out of the trees on the bluff. We rented a mooring from Dive Guana, owned by local legends Troy and Maria Albury, who provide diving and snorkeling tours, rent fishing boats, and are active in the island’s fire and rescue squad.

IN ACTION

After hearing Troy’s lively assessment of conditions in the Sea of Abaco on the Cruiser’s Net each morning, we were curious to see him in action. We were not disappointed. Later in the day, this energetic ball of fire made the rounds of the boats on his moorings to add extra lines in case of a wind shift. In his flippers and mask, he looked like a fish out of water—hoisting himself from skiff to sailboat, and diving from boat to ocean floor in a flash. He finished the job in 10 minutes and disappeared as quickly as he had come, moving on to his next commitment.

We dinghied to shore and made dinner reservations at the Blue Water Grill, one of the slightly more elegant restaurants in the Abacos (although no eatery we encountered frowned on neat casual dress). Having planned to spend the day touring the island, we went in search of Donna Sands’s Golf Cart Rentals, which we found at the back of Donna’s house about a half-mile’s walk from the dock.

Seven miles long and varying from 200 yards to one-fourth of a mile wide, Guana is home to approximately 150 residents, many of whom are descendants of the original Loyalist settlers. Secondhome owners from as far away as Maine and Kansas make up the remaining population. These part-time residents are an important part of the island’s economy, as are day trippers who come by rental boat from surrounding cays, or by ferry from Marsh Harbour on the “mainland” (Great Abaco Island).

Heading north on a newly paved road, we were treated to a magnificent hilltop view of the Atlantic before dipping down into tropical greenery and riding along the sandy trail to Guana Seaside Village resort. At this intimate, out-of-the-way hotel and cottage colony, we enjoyed a lunch of conch fritters and grouper BLTs at the outside bar overlooking the pool and the glittering Sea of Abaco.

ANOTHER FACE

We put another face to a voice on the Cruiser’s Net when Guana Seaside Village innkeeper Gerry gave us news of Barefoot Man’s impending arrival and the hundreds of fans who would be descending upon the island for the next day’s concert. Finishing our Columbus Coladas, we headed back to the southern end of the island and Settlement Harbour, which consists of a sleepy 22-slip dock where the Albury ferry comes in. There are also several small shops and galleries, a hardware store, a grocery, and a laundromat—plus a fig tree where locals meet.

On the opposite side of Settlement Harbour, we stopped in at Orchid Bay Marina, one of several upscale marinas dotted throughout the Abacos. Its 32 slips are protected by a breakwater, and large yachts can be accommodated. The complex includes a pool, a restaurant, a laundry, showers, Internet access, and fuel. It sits at the foot of the Orchid Bay real-estate development, dramatically sited on the hills at the south end of Guana.

On a drive through this project, we saw many apparently unsold lots. Were we were visiting in the early stages of the endeavor? Or was this was another venture falling short of expectations? (If you want to help, you can pick up a home site here for anywhere from $350,000 to well over $1 million.)

Next stop—Sunset Beach Bar and Restaurant, an easygoing outdoor bar by the pool at Captain Easy’s Guana Beach Resort. This six-room mini resort under the palms is nestled between Fisher’s Bay and Settlement Harbour. In the evening, we feasted at last on that prime rib at the Blue Water Grill and enjoyed good company as we watched the sunset from the restaurant’s deck overlooking the bay and Terrapin.

By the next day, the buzz about Barefoot Man had become a roar. The arrival of thousands, rather than hundreds, of Barefoot Man fans was now anticipated. The Cruiser’s Net reported extra ferry boats traveling from Marsh Harbour and Elbow Cay to handle the crowds expected to visit tiny Guana Cay.

We stopped to see Maria at the Dive Guana shed before returning our golf cart to Donna’s, farther down the beach. In the spirit of hospitality and trust so typical of Bahamians, she insisted we take her cart when we returned our rental, so we would not have to walk back to Dive Guana. It was time to head to Nipper’s, at last! We rented bicycles from Maria and rode into the settlement, following hordes of Barefoot Man pilgrims.

A psychedelically painted front-end loader under the palms in the woods marked the path. This was no ordinary place! The path widened, and there, set atop a steep dune beyond a slew of randomly parked golf carts, was a multiplatform, multicolored outdoor bar, etched against a cerulean sky and stuffed to the gills with people dancing to the laid-back island sounds of

Barefoot Man and his band. Barefoot Man, also known as George Nowak, is a resident of Grand Cayman and has ties to Guana. His occasional appearances here provide a nice boost for the local economy. Sometimes compared to Jimmy Buffet, Barefoot has his own original storytelling style, with lyrics that describe the incidents, people, and places of the local islands. In fact, he has honored Nipper’s with its own special song.

We made our way up the boardwalk and through the crowd to the sandy-floored bar, where I ordered a “Frozen” (Nipper’s specialty) and Lee ordered a Kalik, a Bahamian brewed beer. We could barely make out Barefoot Man’s curly head above the throngs as we squeezed past the twolevel pool and souvenir shop, through the standing-room-only crowd, to place our order for the pig roast dinner.

PERFECT AFTERNOON

As we feasted on pork and corn on the cob beneath a fluffy, orange umbrella on the edge of the deck, island music in the background, we gazed out over the sandy, white beach to the blue Atlantic beyond. Below us, friendly knots of revelers relaxed and dipped their toes in the warm water. A beautiful twomasted sailboat whose occupants obviously had local knowledge threaded its way through the reef just offshore and dropped anchor. It was another perfect afternoon on Great Guana Cay.

We spent a few more weeks in the Abacos, returning once more to Guana as we were leaving the Bahamas. Our plan was to cross Whale Cay Passage in the morning, but a rage was on. We considered Don’t Rock Passage, an alternate inside route for shallow-draft boats, but it is not recommended during a rage, so we anchored in rolling seas to see if conditions would change.

From our front-row seats, we watched a few brave (or foolish) sailboats and trawlers head into the huge breaking seas. Some turned back, but others continued, disappearing and reappearing in the heavy surf as they dipped their noses into the troughs of the 10-foot waves. These boats would need to re-enter the Sea of Abaco under the same conditions between the other end of mile-long Whale Cay and Green Turtle Cay. We watched for awhile, wished them well, then motored south around the corner to Crossing Bay, where we anchored off Guana Seaside in much more comfortable conditions. We explored the cove, enjoyed a last glimpse of the starfish on the sandy bottom below, and then went ashore for a few more Columbus Coladas.

The next morning, we poked our nose around the point to check Whale Cay Passage and found that we’d be able to make our transit in 2- to 3-foot seas. As Baker’s Bay receded into the distance, we wondered if that pristine anchorage soon would be home to a swank new marina. Will Robinson Crusoe’s picnic area become an upscale restaurant? Will the shoe tree be replaced by a four-bedroom home? Or will future visitors to the north end of Great Guana Cay be exploring a ghostly golf course?

I think a return trip to find out is in order.

Reprinted with permission. Copyright 2005 © Dominion Enterprises (888.487.2953) www.passagemaker.com

You are reading the text-only copy of this article. To access the article as it appeared in PassageMaker Magazine, please log in to purchase and download the PDF version of this article.