Our first landfall, after leaving Treasure Cay, was Green Turtle Cay seven miles to the North West. Fellow passengers Francine and her daughter Natasha went shopping and I headed for the New Plymouth Inn. There seemed to be nobody there.
After a hail to nowhere in general went unanswered, a young woman entered the front door from the courtyard and asked if she could help. She radiated a feeling of positive energy. I assumed her to be a helpful guest and said I was looking for Proprietor Wally Davies. "My name's Sarah," she replied cheerfully, "can I take a message?" It became obvious she worked at the inn.
Vernal, master chef and general everything, then appeared from the kitchen and joined our conversation. A most inquisitive and interesting Sarah, it turned out, is an island person and the daughter of the Other Shore Club owners. She had been working at Wally's since early fall.
For me the trip started that moment at Wally's place. There is something uniquely special about Green Turtle and her people. Being there brings my mind to full attention.
We talked about all manner of things for what seemed to be hours and was, in real time, no longer than ten minutes. Francine and Natasha wandered in and iced tea was served to all. Francine and I were married in the Inn's courtyard some four years earlier. It's very special to us.
Anyone who has not discovered the New Plymouth Inn is missing a true treat. Before leaving we booked two nights for ourselves in late February. By then a break from the mainland will seem a necessity.
After tea we wandered off in different directions, the women to shop and me to just poke around. Floyd Lowe, senior member of the family that owns the Green Turtle Ferry and the Fish Company, stopped his truck and said hello. When he inquired about my mom I let him know she was on island. When conversation brought out she was 90 Floyd beamed.
I took this chance meeting to relay an event with his son, Nigel, that had occurred several years before. I had asked Nigel if he ever thought of leaving the island as some of the younger generation were doing today. His reply was so pure and direct I can still clearly hear his words. "This island has everything I could possibly want. I am surrounded by family and love. My work is a rewarding joy. Who could ask for more." In response, Floyd simply nodded knowingly.
Next stop was Robert's Hardware. There is nothing like island stores. They seem to have most everything you need, unlike their mainland counterparts. Perhaps one needs less on islands. Who knows?
Mr and Mrs Roberts were tending the store and I felt lucky to catch them both in. After a revealing conversation about some of the changes on Green Turtle during his lifetime, Mr Roberts asked me if I would like to know what bothered him the most. "It's the people that bring stuff over that we stock and sell here in the store," he said sombrely. "We work really hard to have the things people need. It's not easy to make a living running a store on an island. I'm not saying who, but some folk bring over many things from the States that we carry in the store. They even bring paint brushes in their suit cases."
His voice dropped off and his face saddened. I remembered what Nigel said about family. Family wouldn't act that way, I thought. Hopefully newcomers to Green Turtle Cay will, over time, be influenced by the spirit of this quite incredible dot on a sea of green.
On my way to Sid's Store I ran into Burt. Burt is married to Martha Lowe, Sid's daughter. In the winter of 1999 there was a two week stretch of near-perfect fishing weather. Every day during that two weeks Sid would say, "Perfect day for fishing." He loved to fish more that almost everything else and especially with Burt. At the end of the two weeks Burt relented. What a day they had.
When arriving home, a little bit later than usual and loaded with fish, Sid insisted on staying by the shore to help with the cleaning. His wife of 55 years came down from the house with some fresh water and admired their catch. Burt walked ten yards to the shed to get the cleaning knives and when he returned Sid was in his chair facing his beloved sea. He had died instantly.
I've been told Burt hasn't been out fishing since. Time heals, and given time, Burt will fish again.
When I stopped in Sid's Store and saw Martha we talked of her father. She had tears in her eyes. Like so many of the highly respected and much loved elders of this community who have passed away, Sidney Lowe is missed by all.
With slices of pineapple and coconut pie from Sid's to complement our packed lunch we got back on the boat and headed toward the most northers end of Manjack, the second cay north of Green Turtle. This deserted island, except for one dwelling, is about five miles long with several coves on the Abaco Sea side and beach on the Atlantic.
At the northernmost point we anchored our trusty old 17 foot Boston Whaler in a peaceful cove five feet from the beach. Lunch was perfect. We were alone in the world except for clustered gatherings of hermit crabs holding their daily meetings.
With bellies full and thirsts quenched, we pulled anchor and rounded the island's tip on the ocean side heading towards home in a southerly direction. We stopped midway down the two mile deserted beach. The wind was offshore allowing us to again anchor about ten feet from land.
After a refreshing swim Francine and Natasha walked the beach south and I went north. We met an hour later burdened with our new found treasures. When leaving we cruised along the shore at idle speed heading back towards Green Turtle.
The trip along the ocean side of Manjack, Crab Cay, and Green Turtle was serene and especially beautiful. Mark Twain is reported to have said that, "If one travels faster than ten miles per hour he misses the scenery." This seems to be as true on sea as it is on land.
Passing the beach and reefs on the ocean side of Green Turtle Cay's Coco Bay, my thoughts drifted to Charlie Stein. Charlie and wife Viny owned and operated Coco Bay Cottages until his death in mid 80's. The cottages were three in number, had two bedrooms each, and were eloquent in their simplicity. I stayed there often with family and friends in the 70's. For a non-island person, Charlie was as innovative as anyone on Green Turtle.
Charlie had his rules. Everything from flushing the cottage boat style toilets to taking a fresh water shower had its procedure. Sometimes the consequences of breaking the rules were severe. There was a reason tempered by experience behind all Charlie's seemingly pointless regulations.
Like the rest of Green Turtle, fresh water at Charlie and Viny's was collected from the roofs and stored in cisterns. Water was often at a premium. Instead of the usual shower nozzle the showers at the cottages consisted of a trigger style garden spray nozzle at the end of a piece of hose. It is surprising how short showers became when guests had to hold the nozzle in one hand over their heads and soap up with the other. At best the water was slightly more than a moderate dribble. Our average water use per person was less than five gallons a day. The way we knew this is that there was a 25 gallon tank in the attic of each cottage. Charlie filled these at ten every morning. If you ran out before the next morning there was a very difficult hand pump system that could used to replenish the supply. Most guests only ran out once.
Back then there was no road to town. A small boat and outboard motor came with each of three cottages. No phone, no television and no radio unless you brought a portable. When the weather was good one could get to town for supplies and food.
Charlie turned the generator on at dark and we had electricity for dinner and could read or play cards until the gas ran out. The only entertainment was self-induced. The beach and reef at our front door was as good as they come. We never lacked for something to do.
When Charlie Stein died, a part of me went with him. I truly admired and loved that man. Who knows how many people he touched or lives were changed through knowing him.
Passing the stretch from Coco Bay to Bita Bay, I remembered the path that used to run along the ocean before the road was put in. There were little narrow paths off the main path which ended in large piles of small chipped stones. It was said that in earlier days men would work at the end of these narrow paths shaping large pieces of coral to be used in the construction of cisterns and building foundations.
As we rounded the southern tip of Green Turtle the large white condos being constructed at the bend in Treasure Cay's arm dominated the shoreline. From a distance they look like oil refinery tanks. It is beyond my understanding what possesses people to build such blights on the beauty that is Treasure.
A threatening rain shower between Marsh Harbour and Leisure Lee prompted an end to our leisurely pace. With hats and gathered articles battened down we raced for home at nearly full throttle.
Within 22 minutes the safe harbour of Treasure Cay welcomed us to port with the pending rain shower only minutes behind. Stored in the memory bank was another perfect day on the water and all that came with it.
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