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BYOP
by Carolyn Corbett
"All boats in the Typical Tropical anchorage.
All boats in the Typical Tropical anchorage . . . "
The crackle of the VHF cut through the quiet Bahamian
afternoon. "Please switch to 73 for an announcement
of general interest."
"There will be a boater's potluck ashore at the
picnic tables this evening, beginning about 17:00. Bring
your own plates, silverware and a dish to share."
Most of the time Dave and I eat "take-out":
We take conch, lobster, grouper, or hogfish out of the
water and we eat it. But if there's a potluck in the
planning, count us in! Food and friends are two of the
best parts of cruising. One meal we reminisce about
is a super supper shared with our boat buddies on Cheerio
at Rudder Cut Cay, Exuma. We chowed down on hamburgers
sizzling from the grill, homemade buns still warm from
the oven and pickles from our garden back in Minnesota.
Okay, so maybe you can't describe in mouth-watering
detail any burgers you ate several years ago, but we
hadn't been eating a lot of red meat at the time. The
nearest Hardee's was a long swim away!
Another meal worthy of a Kodak moment occurred in
the northern Abacos. We met Wind Willing as we waited
in Florida for a weather window to cross the Gulf Stream.
When the window came, we topped off our fuel and water
tanks, motored out the Lake Worth Inlet, and parted
ways. Our sailboat, Godspede, set course for Walker's
Cay, while Wind Willing headed for West End, Grand Bahamas.
We agreed to meet up at Double Breasted Cay.
Dave and I promised Bill and Elizabeth we'd have lobster
waiting for them, to celebrate their first cruise to
the Bahamas. They assured us they had the correct bottle
of wine aboard to complement crustaceans. When we rendezvoused
a few days later, both crews fulfilled their sides of
the bargain. The four of us toasted a giddy greeting
to the land of luscious lobster, turquoise waters and
tropical sunsets.
The night before, Ron and Gloria of Yaraandoo had
hosted a birthday bash in
my honor. It was a touching gesture and I understand
it was a lively party, replete with merrymaking. Unfortunately,
weather prevented the crowd from reaching our location
that day as previously planned. The party took place
at Grand Cay, six miles north of us, with the guest
of honor in absentia!
Of course, there are also large gatherings. The Christmas
Potluck at the Jib Room in Marsh Harbour, Abaco, fits
into this category. The morning of my first cruising
Christmas, a dozen of us volunteered as galley slaves
in the Jib Room's kitchen. We peeled potatoes, arranged
dessert trays, and carved turkey and ham. (Okay, we
might also have done a tad bit of taste testing, but
it was just to make sure the food was fit to eat, you
understand.) As midday arrived, so did cruisers, paying
$5.00 each to cover the cost of meat, potatoes and stuffing.
Each crew brought a dish to share. Altogether, 180 cruising
folks participated in this holiday feast, and we all
had a jolly holiday. We shared horror stories and boat
repair tips, good anchorages and outrageous marinas,
tall tales and bad jokes. We caught up on news of mutual
friends, exchanged boat cards, and made plans to meet
again.
There were a dozen boats in the anchorage at Royal
Island the day Nicola
Hill turned 9 years old, but not one had children
aboard. Nasty weather prevented Nicola's good friend,
who lived at nearby Spanish Wells, from arriving for
the slumber party they had planned. But cruisers are
cruisers. Nicola celebrated her birthday at a party
ashore, despite waves crashing against the cement pier
that served as a dinghy dock. There were balloons, improvised
gifts and nibbles. I made rice krispie bars that spelled
out her name. (Took me about a week to get all that
marshmallow-glue off my fingers!) It was hard to light
the candles on the cake in the strong wind, but the
feat was accomplished in the shelter of an abandoned
building.
During the years George and Christl Hill managed Royal
Island, they had a tradition of hosting weekly gatherings
for the cruisers assembled in the anchorage. Dave and
I carried on the custom when we were "caretakers"
for a month while Kirtonia returned to the States. Each
Sunday, Dave made the announcement on VHF after he finished
the weather broadcast. If newcomers arrived before the
13:00 start-up time, I dinghied over to invite them.
Hey, when you're cruising, the folks on the just-arrived
boat aren't strangers ~ they're only friends you haven't
met yet!
Dave would go ashore 30 minutes ahead of time to gather
lignum vitae to substitute for charcoal in the grills.
I'd whip up a dish to share, gather together plates,
utensils and garbage bags, then motor in to join the
festivities. Sure, there were a lot of your basic rice
and tuna dishes, but, boy, there were some gourmet goodies,
too! (I always harbor a lingering suspicion that Dave
might one day leave me for some woman who shows up at
a potluck with potato salad.)
Yes, those Sundays reigned supreme in sustenance.
We broke bread, devoured desserts, grazed, gobbled,
gorged, and guzzled.
Royal Island was one of the few places we found regularly
scheduled sprees ~ most get-togethers tend to be pretty
spontaneous. But that's no problem for us, mon. When
it comes to food, we're flexible!
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