Today I am going to tell you about another sailing adventure from our days in the Bahamas. I was at the helm with my dad, just like always, because I am a top-notch first mate and Shepherd supreme. It was a bright and sunny day. The sails were just perfect. Not too windy, but windy enough to keep us moving.
You know what you call two sailboats going the same direction?
A race! Hehehehe.
We were sailing along, admiring the surrounding islands, sniffing the salt air, and enjoying the day. The water was crystal clear. The Bahamas are very shallow, and in some places you can actually see the bottom. We even spotted a giant sea turtle that day. It was bigger than my Sister. Bigger. Than. My. Sister.
Now, you may not know this about me, but I do not like loud noises. They make me freaky. I am brave, incredibly brave, but noises are my one weakness. I never liked them, and ever since I got the shakeys, I hate them even more. Any noise. All noises. So. Scary.
So, when I heard an engine off in the distance, I immediately alerted my people. Danger was approaching. Dad said, “It’s just a boat, Karl.” I insisted it was trouble. Dad always listens to my highly tuned instincts, smart man, and he pulled out the spyglass to glass the situation. And yep. Trouble. “They’re not on AIS,” Dad said.
For those who don’t know, AIS is the electronic equipment boats use to identify themselves and broadcast their location to other ships. Think of it as a name tag. A very important name tag, especially at night. These people had no name tag. Red flag.
The boat was moving fast, and now we could see them with our own eyes. A huge motorboat, coming straight at us. Dad tried to reach them on the radio. Since we were running on sails, we couldn’t make quick turns, and motorboats are supposed to give sailboats the right of way. But this was a long, open waterway, and that boat was not slowing down.
Dad did his best to move us aside, but the big boat blasted right past us at full speed. The wake, that’s what we sailors call those big rude waves, hit us hard and rocked our boat something fierce. Mom told me and Sister to lie down so we wouldn’t slide around, and we all held on for dear life. It was loud. It was wild. It was terrifying. I was trembling. The flag on the back of that boat? Stars and stripes. Now I am just a Shep, but even I know that when you visit someone else’s waters, you should be polite. Just saying.
Luckily, I never stay scared for long, and the day soon returned to its sunny glory.
We continued our beautiful sail to Green Turtle Cay. We weren’t sure we’d be able to get in because our monohull boat was deep-drafted, meaning it had a big belly that hung down low and could scrape the ocean floor. But we discovered they had dug a deeper channel all the way into the bay, right up to the sheltered marina inlet. And since it was the off-season, we could actually afford to stay there. This marina was famous. Very fancy people had stayed there. We fit right in. Hehehehe
It was November, and Mom wanted to stay a while on the island rather than taking the weather window to push through the Whale. You remember the Whale, don’t you? Not the sea creature. This is a passage just a few miles from the island where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Sea of Abaco. The water goes from thousands of feet deep to just a few feet, and that dramatic change makes the sea very, very angry. Crash your boat angry. You have to pick exactly the right weather conditions to make it through safely.
Mom had heard the marina was fun, that there was a famous chef cooking right there at the marina restaurant, and a charming little town nearby to explore. Plus, and everybody knows this about my mom, she loves a bargain. It was the off-season. Need I say more.
The rest of the sail was wonderful, right up until we got close to the inlet. That’s when I noticed my people getting tense. Not good. When they are tense, I am tense. Sister just sat there with that happy goofy look on her face, so I had to personally inform her that it was time to worry. I began to pace. I began to whine. Standard Shep SOP, though I don’t do anything in a typical fashion. I have Extra Sensory Shep Perception. I am more in tune with my people than any of my siblings before me have ever been. I sense shifts in emotion before my people even feel them themselves.
Dad was worried about the depth of the channel. Mom was too. We dropped the sails and started the motor, and you know how I feel about that noise, and slowly, carefully motored around the hazards. The depth was touch and go. There were some actual touches. Touches! Dad’s face said everything I needed to know.
Eventually, we made it to the marina. The dockmaster and a helper came out to meet us at our slip, that’s what they call your assigned spot. They always come out to help, which is a great and noble service. Usually. But this particular guy thought he was just going to walk right onto my boat. Absolutely not. I lost my mind. Then Dad said I had to allow it.
Rude.
This goes against everything I stand for. Fine. But let the record show: I did not agree.
I was scared and insulted all at the same time, which is a lot for one Shepherd to handle.
Finally, we were tied up at the dock and left in peace to reflect on the long day. Pirates. A giant turtle. Actual bottom touches. A stranger on my boat. It was a lot.
But here is what I know: the sun was warm, my people were safe, and we were exploring a new place together. And together is the best place to be. Green Turtle Cay. Highly recommend. Five paws.