Georgetown Nat'l Family Island Regatta: Town Day
Ambler Isle
V and S
Fri 29 Apr 2011 12:26
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We pulled away from Amber Isle in the dinghy
and headed to town when we spotted the huge black clouds racing our way. A
quick u-turn brought us back to the boat to close windows and hatches, and grab
rain slickers and umbrella. Loaded with a week's trash, we tied off at the
dock nearest the dumpster. I ran/walked towards the big bin when a
Bahamian man said to me, "Hey lady, if that's trash, I'll take it, you go
on: it's gonna raaaaaaaaaaaaaain." I handed him the bags and hurried
back to the dinghy. It was raining before I got there. Donning rain
gear, we continued on thru the tiny bridge tunnel to Lake Victoria and tied off
again, on the Exuma Market dinghy dock. The first day of the preliminary
races, the dock was overfull. We looked for the produce guy, and bought
his homegrown tomatoes. They may be better even than our Grainger County
tomatoes back home. He was out of papaya. Across the road was
another produce vender. He had several very large papaya, but was nowhere
to be seen. Oh, well, remember this is the Bahamas, Mon. No one
would steal his vegetables. The rain began again, harder this time and we
sought shelter at the little local food bar, Bikini Bottoms, ordering a
chicken sandwich to share. Several other cruisers had the same idea and we
enjoyed lively conversations. When the rain stopped, we went to the
Regatta shacks area. The speakers were so loud that the beat reverberated
on our breast bones as we went by. I stuck my fingers in my ears to
protect my hearing. Everyone was in a good mood, some dancing in the
street, others in the spectator area cheering for their team. The conch
salad man was chopping and dicing. A line formed by his booth. The
beer booths were full already. As we came to the jerk chicken shack, the
rains pelted us again. We went inside, again paying for our shelter by
ordering food. This time be bought jerk chicken, pork and grouper
fingers. More than enough for dinner that day. The cooks were
Bahamian ladies, dressed in traditional garb, long skirts, head wraps.
Each shackholder paid a hefty fee for the privilege of setting up their shack
and serving food and drink for the week. By the time we left, the streets
were running with rainwater and muddying the road. Driving back to the
Amber Isle we found ourselves in the middle of the last race of the
day. We scurried about taking photos and watching the small boats tack
into the wind. One skiff sent a crew member up the mast to make a quick
sail repair. Back on board, we watched wave after wave of rain beat on the
boat, again giving a free boat wash. It also cooled the temperature down
to mid 70. It would be a good night for sleeping.
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