Hotmail
At sea with the boys of summer
A family vacation afloat in the Bahamas
Holger Leue The Pitons seen from Anse Chastanet. |
"When am I going to see a barracuda?" my 7-year-old, Marlie, asked for the tenth time since the start of our trip. It was no passing fancy: This is a kid so enthralled by toothy creatures that he endlessly doodles underwater scenes infested with 'cudas, sharks and eels. He hadn't seen any in the wild yet, but with a week to explore the Bahamas aboard a sailboat, it was only a matter of time before he came face to face with one of his favorite sea monsters. As his mom, let's just say I had mixed feelings about that.
"You're going to see some really big fish here, Marlie," said our captain, Dave, in his thick Aussie accent as he steered the dinghy toward Sandy Cay Reef. Marlie, bouncing at the bow alongside his brother, 11-year-old Alex, nodded and studied the water intently -- a kiddie Cousteau.
Dave explained that this was a "drift" snorkel: We'd drop in at one end of the reef and let the current carry us while he tagged along in the dinghy to pluck us out when we finished. The first mate, Melanie, splashed over the side, followed by the boys and then their father, Gary. When I slipped in, Gary and I joined hands with Marlie and Alex so we could stay together. With arms and legs outstretched, we looked like a cluster of skydivers freefalling in formation.
The reef appeared below us, a watery metropolis of coral and sponge structures pulsing with colorful citizens. A school of black-and-yellow striped sergeant majors zipped by like busy commuters. Parrotfish, angels and fairy basslets mixed and mingled amid huge brain corals and tangles of white-tipped staghorn. A large grouper puttered along a sandy throughway between sections of stony reef, finning past a stingray that burrowed into the bottom. Suddenly, we were engulfed by a cloud of tiny shimmering silversides, so many that they blocked our view. And then, just as suddenly, the school parted, revealing a long silver torpedo with teeth.
"Bawahcudah! Bawahcudah!" shouted Marlie, his voice distorted through his snorkel. Little hands tightened their grip on mine, but then Alex yanked his away. "Shark! Shark!" he yelled, pointing out a baby bull shark swimming 20 feet down. Another, larger barracuda appeared, and then a third. The shark did a lazy turn. The boys hooted and grunted to announce each new and exciting development.
The end of our drift came far too soon. Turning toward the dinghy, I saw the biggest barracuda hanging nearby, just below the surface. Intimidating but not threatening, he looked as if he was simply waiting around to make certain that Marlie's wish had come true. I gave him a little wave and thought, "My kids will still be talking about you in 20 years."
Marlie popped his head up and peeled off his mask. "Three barracudas and a shark! My friends are not going to believe this!"
"Man, I want to do that again," said Alex as Dave reached down to help him back aboard. I felt the same way: like a kid who'd just been on the greatest roller coaster -- and was ready to do it all over.
Given Marlie's marine-life obsession and Alex's love of sailing, deciding to do an island-hopping adventure by boat was an easy pick for our summer vacation. We chose the Abacos as our cruising grounds because this 120-mile-long island chain in the northern Bahamas offers safe, easy sailing within protected waters, and because it's only a 45-minute flight from Florida. The other decision we had to make was whether to go it alone, bareboat, or rent a yacht that came with a crew. Considering the time taken up with provisioning, cooking and cleaning and the stress of actually working the boat versus having pure relaxing quality time with the boys, the crewed charter option was another no-brainer.
Captain Dave and Melanie welcomed us aboard the Meltemia -- a 47-foot four-cabin catamaran -- at the Moorings base on Marsh Harbour. "I've got a beginning snorkeler and a novice sailor," I said. "Can we tailor the trip to keep them interested?"
"I think we can handle that," Dave smiled, rolling out a chart of the Sea of Abaco, the broad, shallow body of water that separates Great Abaco from dozens of smaller islands that face the Atlantic to the east. Gary and I leaned over the chart, pointing out island after interesting-looking island: Green Turtle Cay, Man-O-War, Manjack, Pelican … we wanted to hit them all.
Dave let us go on for awhile before gently suggesting a more relaxed itinerary. "People typically want to visit as many islands as they can," he said. "But at the end of the trip, they always wish they had taken it a bit slower, to savor the places they visited." We agreed and settled on a plan that combined days of exploring uninhabited beaches and secluded reefs with stops at larger islands that would offer local culture and fun dining options. There'd be plenty of snorkeling stops and good stretches of sailing in between.
As we finished plotting our course, the telltale crinkling of foil told me that Marlie was pilfering snacks in the galley. Melanie, though, was a step ahead of the dreaded "I'm starving!" meltdown, and set the shaded outside table with salads and fresh sweet Bahamian bread, which were promptly and totally devoured.
- Discuss Story On Newsvine
-
Rate Story:
View popularLowHigh - Instant Message
MORE FROM FAMILY |
 Family Section Front |
| Add Family headlines to your news reader: |
Resource guide