Living in the Bahamas - Rose Island Beach

LIVING IN THE BAHAMAS
ROSE ISLAND BEACH


Two months after Annie joined me in Nassau, we awoke to a glorious December Saturday and gazed upon emerald seas from our bedroom window.
“Annie,” I said. “Let’s explore Rose Island today. You haven’t been out on Boat Tales yet.”
“Great, I’ll pack a lunch. Is your leg going to be okay for swimming?”
“After three months of jungle rot, I finally cleared it up with a zinc-based salve. I didn’t think that wound would ever heal.”
“There are tough bacteria here in the tropics.”
We launched Boat Tales at Montague Park, smoothly this time with my recently bought truck and my trailer that finally made its way to Nassau on a barge between hurricanes.
“This green water is spectacular,” Annie said. “I love the smell of salt air and sounds of boats in a harbour. That is why we moved here.”
“It looks peaceful now, but you should have seen the insanity during Hurricane Francis.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t here.”
I navigated through busy Nassau Harbour between cruise ships, US Coast Guard ships, Haitian sloops, sailboats, and a multitude of high-end yachts. With no boat speed limits in the harbour, I kept a sharp eye out for speed boats weaving along the water way between Nassau and Paradise Island. We continued past Atlantis Resort, where mega-yachts anchored with cars and helicopters on their roofs. Continuing eastward two miles beyond the east end of Nassau, we watched long, narrow Rose Island rise from clear, turquoise sea with light waves sparkling in bright sunlight. It had a rocky south side fifteen feet deep; we couldn’t land there. Spectacular sand beaches with swaying palm trees covered the north shore. Shallow flats and a near-shore coral reef ran along the wind protected shoreline for miles. No permanent residents lived on Rose Island, only weekenders frequented the beaches.
We came upon at least fifty ex-pat boats spread along a pristine white beach. I backed our boat in between a thirty-foot cigarette speedster and a fifty-foot sport fisher. If I pulled ashore in the falling tide, we would soon be stranded, so I anchored twenty feet offshore by dropping an anchor in deep water to secure my bow. I sank a second anchor on the dry beach to keep my stern from swinging into other boats. We waded onto a stunning beach, taking our chairs, ice chests, and food to stake out a piece of paradise. We laid back to work on our tans for a couple of hours, frequently swimming to stay cool.
After a nap, Annie turned to me, “We keep finding beautiful beaches.”
“Yes. This one is close enough to visit every weekend. Let’s take a walk and inspect boats.”
Happy boaters loved congregating on tropical beaches to share stories with fellow explorers. Being new to Nassau, we were welcomed with open arms. Comparison of homeports and boat abilities started each conversation, followed by current news from back home. Most of the boats were cruisers and speedboats, enjoying a day on the beach. I saw only a few fishing boats; must have been because they were out fishing on a beautiful day. These boaters represented the more elite social class of Nassau and we enjoyed their company as they told us the ins and outs of living in the Bahamas. As in other countries around the world, these ex-pats banded together in a tight network to help each other out and offer advice. I was glad to meet them. Up until now I had felt like a stranger in a strange land.
A few hours and beers later, I told Annie, “Let’s find a reef where we can snorkel.”
“You can’t sit still for long, can you?”
“So many reefs, so little time.”
We packed up and cruised over a shallow offshore reef with brain and leather coral scattered between purple sea fans swaying in clear water.
"I don't see any fish,” Annie commented.
“They’re fished daily by snorkeling tourists. I’ll find another spot further east.”
A few minutes later, we pulled up to a different reef. We donned masks, snorkels, and fins, then jumped in warm water, leaving Boat Tales to drift. I was proud of Annie for turning into a mermaid and overcoming her fear of sharks. A light breeze slowly pushed us across the reef as we held onto lines and floated on a private aquatic tour. When our fingers became wrinkled, we returned to Boat Tales, where we continued to drift, luxuriating in turquoise water. No other boats disturbed our tropical rapture, just water and islands as far as I could see. Silence enveloped us, broken only by wavelets murmuring against the boat.
“Isn’t this incredible?” I asked Annie.
“No phones, no computer, no TV. Can we just drift around the world?”
“We’ve jumped pretty far off already, but we’ll keep going.”
"Just you and me, dear."
“I’m so glad we’re a long way from Florida.”
“You are sleeping better, now,” I noted. “Those nightmares have stopped.”
“So many things in Cocoa Beach reminded me of Larry. I’m happy we left. Life will be better now.”
“I still can’t believe we’re living an island dream. You’re my mermaid.”
Later I climbed the tower to get a birds-eye view of thick reefs and fish below. Turning around, I saw a large school of splashing fish.
“Annie, start the motor and pull around in front of those fish.”
While I donned snorkeling gear, she judged their path and pulled ahead of them like a pro fishing guide.
“Stop here,” I said and gently slipped overboard. I swam quietly, then stopped moving when a swarming cloud of four-inch-long, silversides minnows appeared from nowhere. A frenzy of thousands of flashing dervishes enveloped me as they fled from a large school of jackfish herding them, darting among the frantic minnows, slashing them with razor sharp teeth. Small pieces of flesh and scales sparkled like snowflakes falling to the reef, feeding small fish below. Being enveloped by a turbulent river of minnows and jackfish was breathtaking. I tried to spear fleeting jacks but would have had better luck trying to spear a ghost. Soon the teeming school of fish passed me, disappearing into nothingness of gin-clear water. The reef returned to peace.
When I returned to our boat, Annie asked, “What did you see? Fish thrashed all around you.”
When I told her about miraculous hordes of silver minnows whirling like ribbons through an invisible ocean, she said, “These waters are astounding.”
We moved to another reef and snorkeled again. When I found a ledge hiding two lobsters, I swam down to spear them. My first shot missed, sending one bug scurrying back into his hole. With stealth, I approached the second bug trapped under a ledge, stretched my Hawaiian sling, took careful aim, and speared my first lobster! I swam to our boat and threw my spear and lobster over the gunnel, causing Annie to squeal.
“Put that lobster in the ice chest.”
“No way.”
“Just pull the spear out.”
Gritting her teeth, she removed the spear and put my bug into the box. A short while later, I speared my first snapper. At another reef, I speared two more lobsters under a rock. With fresh fish in my dive bag, I returned to our boat, keeping a sharp eye out for sharks.
We pulled ashore, where I cleaned my catch. After firing up a gas stove, seafood soon sizzled.
“I’m so glad we moved here,” Annie said. “This is everything I dreamed of.”
“Me too. I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh, tell me. I love surprises.”
“I received a quote yesterday from Richard Gibson for building our house.”
She beamed. "Oh, really."
“He faxed it to my office with a price under our budget. He has good references, so I think we’ll accept his offer. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Oh Gordon, that’s wonderful. Of course, I want to build a retirement home. We’ll have our own little place in the sun. What do we do next?”
“I thought we could fly to Marsh Harbour next weekend to sign his contract, then finalize financing. It’ll take him a while to order materials and longer to have them delivered. Construction will be slow. I figure he should be finished by the time my contract is finished here in three years. We could move in then.”
“Oh, I’m so excited.” Annie grinned. “Our retirement dream will come true.”
“Won’t it be great?”
“I’ve already named our house.”
“Tell me.”
“Island Daze.”
“That’s perfect,” I replied and hugged her.
We lounged on a blanket under a palm tree on our isolated beach, discussing our future.
She snuggled up to me as I softly told her, “This is the best day of my life.”
She nodded and kissed me.
Kerplunk! A green coconut fell nearby, barely missing us and destroying the moment.
Annie jumped, exclaiming, “Wow! That would’ve hurt.”
“Yes, it would. Let me show you how to milk a coconut. Howard told me how to do this.” I shook it next to my ear to hear liquid sloshing. Green coconuts have sweet water but no meat. Older brown coconuts are harder, with white meat and no water.
"The cross-section of a coconut is almost triangular, but there’s a rounded side called the breast for obvious reasons. The skin on the breast side is the softest spot.”
She laughed. “Yes, I know.”
I pushed the blade of my dive knife through the soft spot, then cut twice more, creating a triangular core that I pulled out.
I grinned. “Have you ever had rum and coconut water?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re in for a treat.” I went to Boat Tales, returning with cups and a bottle of gold rum.
“Where did you find rum?”
“With our medical supplies,” I replied with a laugh. “I am always prepared.”
I poured clear coconut water into our glasses. With a dash of rum, we had delicious boat drinks to top off my catch. Content and sleepy, we whiled away the afternoon, turning brown as we chatted about our future. Later, we swam to cool off, then left our secluded beach. We cruised back to Nassau with my radio playing Jimmy Buffet’s Boat Drinks, thinking of many more islands to explore.