After our days of solitude in the Bight of Abaco we anchored at Mores Island and a Bahamian fishing boat came by full of lobsters or crawfish. Negotiations completed we were the happy owners of three and they were delicious. The Skipper trading on his King Island experiences cooked them perfectly. This time he wasn't threatened with a shotgun for catching lobsters, for research purposes, as he was back in those days.
We had an easy passage from the Abacos to The Berry Islands and re-entered civilisation. We entered Great Harbour Cay where sailing ships of old used to anchor and over the hill in Chub Cay there were two cruise ships at a private resort island. It was a very rolly night at anchor so we headed out early for the 15nm trip to Devils Cay. We were all tired from lack of sleep but we're looking forward to a quick three hour trip down the coast to a more sheltered spot. The day before we had done 45nm over open ocean in just on 5 hours so a short hop down to the next cay would be a cinch. Ha, Ha. The swell was 6 to 8 ft and the wind on the nose. Eight weary hours later we approached the entrance to Devils Cay, which is not for the faint hearted, thank you GPS, and gratefully anchored in calm water. The next day was lovely, most of the other boats departed and we swam in beautiful water from the white sandy beach. There were sea turtles in abundance and we watched their graceful moves with delight.
In Vero Beach Freya and I picked up our snorkelling gear and so when we went snorkelling the Skipper headed off along the reef edge. It took me ages to sort out the new straps and get organised. Finally comfortable I put my head under in the shallow water and set off from the beach, a little nervous as it had it been awhile. You know that feeling that you're being watched, well I looked to my left and about two meters away half buried in the sand were slanted eyes looking at me. I nearly swallowed my snorkel until I realised it was just a very large skate minding its own business.
We were just emerging from the water when a power boat rushed in the little cay and a voice demanded, "Is this the blue hole?"
A little confused I looked round and replied that I didn't have a clue. After much confusion on both sides we discover a path that did indeed lead through the bush to the famous Blue Hole, a huge hole in the middle of the island about 100 ft deep. At that stage of the day it was more dirty brown than blue but both the Skipper and Freya took the leap off the ledge about 25ft into the brackish water. The people in the power boat were lovely and even included a Kiwi from Taranaki.
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