Re Metau
People of the Sea
Pearls of
Paradise Next Door
Bahamas Cruise
Sugar Beach Caves
~ Sugar Beach Caves ~
Sugar Beach Caves
An Endless Honeymoon
After a healthy breakfast, we bundled our beach attire and bikes into the dink, leaving barely enough room for ourselves, and departed for our landing by the bridge. Wally, our coconut cutting counselor highly recommended making the journey to the Sugar Beach Caves at the northern end of the island. A rather hilly region, he'd encouraged us to rent a golf cart from the 'Happy People' at the edge of the marina. But the fee was steeper than the trek, so we opted to get there under our own steam. We cruisers are such cheapskates! But rest assured our entire budget would be spent within the country, we just wanted to stretch it as thin as possible while we lingered as long as we were able.

Peddling up each bluff in the heat of a cloudless morning was quite a workout, but it was good to be physically moving again and there was really no particular hurry. The roadside scenery was charming. The town of Great Harbour was allotted to the non-native residences; elegant estates, second homes, and vacation chateaus lined the street. I began to consider the ordeal it must have been to build these mansions in such a remote place. With no nearby lumber store, every box of nails, every bag of concrete, every bucket of paint had to be shipped in, undoubtedly wrapped in heavy government red tape.

Don's Sensuous Look
~ Don's Sensuous Look ~

Each allotment had a plaque affixed to the entry gate, stating the manor's name; Palm Cove, Sunshine Villa, Seaside Heaven. I smiled to myself, knowing that we had yet another thing in common with the privileged few. Like the multi-propertied wealthy, our 'home' was christened as well – Re Metau.

Just when we were facing yet another exhausting hill, we were saved by a sign indicating we'd arrived at the 'Sugar Beach Caves'. It'd been taxing peddling these rusty wheels up the hills, but pushing them across the sandy path was even more strenuous. Noting that there was not another living biped to be seen, we quickly dumped the bikes by a sign post, kicked off the flip-flops, and slogged the rest of the way through the deep, fine sand.

The Most Romantic Beach
We arrived to the most romantic, breathtaking vista I'd ever had the pleasure to behold. The beach of soft, sugary, snow white sand was framed by spectacular, steep cliff walls on one edge, and beautiful, shimmering, calm turquoise water on the other. Cool caverns and shallow grottos penetrated the bedrock, which jutted into and out of the azure sea.

A little less than four years before, Don and I were married on Re Metau while docked in Tarpon Springs. In the cockpit, we exchanged vows to a setting sun, and sealed them with a kiss under a full moon. Later that night we had a feast with visiting family, and joked about sailing to Honeymoon Island to consummate the affair. But the night of celebration and revelry brought nausea and lethargy the following morning, so plans were put aside. Besides, our life was already so infused with enchanting mystery, blissful rapture, poetic scenery, and whimsical adventure. From what had we to take a vacation?

~ Driftwood ~
Racing the Rain
On that beach, in that gloriously secluded setting of warm, gentle waves lapping a glistening shore embraced by shaded coves of lofty palisades; it was truly a perfect honeymoon setting of which there was no rival. We spent several delirious hours being proper newlyweds, frolicking in the gentle surf, dancing in the sun, napping on the sand. We remained the only two souls in this Eden and time had no meaning in our joyous ecstasy. Though I never wanted to leave, black clouds gathering in the distance popped our bubble of bliss.

Re Metau's ports were all open to keep it cool below decks and if the rain reached her before we did, we'd have to spend the night in damp sheets. A cooling, light sprinkle and a predominately downhill run made the trek back much quicker. We managed to skirt the deluge by mere moments.

With battened hatches, the shower was soon seen as liquid sunshine. It was good to rinse off the abundance of sand and salt that had accumulated on everything – our boat, our bikes, our clothes, and our skin. And perhaps my salt-sullied herb planter would recuperate with a thorough fresh-water dousing. I had a nice crop of lettuce, cilantro, and basil growing in a hanging planter, but the weather we'd sailed in while crossing the Great Bahama Banks brought waves over our bow, and having gotten splashed, my sprouts were looking rather sea sick.

Diana in the Surf
~ Diana in the Surf ~
A Joy Bath
We decided to take advantage of the abundance of heaven-sent fresh water by taking what we cruisers call a 'Joy Bath'. This method of bathing occurs alfresco, using Joy dish washing liquid, the only readily available soap that suds in cold, salt water. After Re Metau's decks were thoroughly rinsed, we filled buckets from the river running down the gunwale. Then we stripped down in the cockpit, and scrubbed each other vigorously. It's no wonder people didn't want cruisers anchored within view. We must have looked like lunatics! But it felt so good to be really clean again, to have the luxury of rinsing with gallons of fresh, cool water – all for free!

Weather forecasts indicated a coming front that was not favorable for us to continue on to our next destination, so we decided to stay put for a bit. Squeaky-clean skin, safe in a harbor, snug in our little ship, and no schedule to obey – we'd never felt such perfect freedom. We were able to be fully present to whatever the moment brought, to appreciate the simple pleasures of cooking a meal, playing a game, watching the moon rise. There was still so much ahead of us, both on this little cay and beyond. And there would always be the never ending glow of our Sugar Beach Caves honeymoon.

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2011 - Bahamas
Paradise Next Door
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