A new transmission will be sent to this island on Wednesday. To say the least, it is quite challenging to get anything shipped here to Chub Cay. We were informed of a tiny airline called Watermaker’s which flies around the islands shipping cargo and people where no other airline lands. Although Nassau is only 35 miles east of us, we fell in love with this charming island and everyone/thing it contains.
Aside from the fact that I know tomorrow we should be receiving a transmission, my sense of time has become unbelievably distorted. I think we have been here for a week. No longer do I pay any mind to the time of day, let alone the day of the week. It is very odd how my sense for time has dissipated. I often have to think twice about what month and season we are in. Where the sun is in the sky, indicates our activities on a daily basis.
The one thing the position of the sun does not indicate, is when the bugs come out to play. The bugs seems to be on the same schedule as Katie and I are. Whether we are off the boat, or have any skin exposed (which is all of the time) the noseum’s are chowing down on our salty skin. Never in my life have I experienced bug bites like I have in the last week. Noseums are itsy bitsy piles of garbage you can hardly see. You can feel them bite, and it hurts. You swat them away but never get them because you can’t even see them. They fit through all of our screening, and don’t just come out after the sun goes down. It’s all day. Everyday. Many sleepless nights over these creatures. Often they turn a fabulous day into a horror movie. Louise becomes a stagnant, stale, sweat box, containing killer noseums that you can’t get away from. Those of you who know me, are aware of how much I bite my nails. I hardly have a nail to prove that one even exists, and still have been capable of making myself bleed from the itching. New goal. Grow out a nail, maybe even 10.
Not much to do on this Island. After getting to know the dock master “Tito” we are comfortably tied up to the fuel dock until we get fixed. Without saying the exact words… Tito suggested under his breath we can stay tied up in the marina and he will not charge us. Every day, at the end of Tito’s shift I bring him whiskey. After several days, we know everybody, and everybody knows us. Maybe 50 Bahamians total live on this island. Yesterday, the sheriff (Officer Ferguson who is the spitting image of Samuel L. Jackson) slowed his vehicle to inform me that walking around with an open beer is an offense, and proceeded to ask Katie and me If we wanted to go to the bar with him and his friends that night.
Most days we try to stay in the water as long as possible. The heat and the bugs prevent any other activity. By night time, we always seem to find ourselves a fresh fish dinner. This island is known for it’s world renown fishing. Some wealthy and daring fisherman have been kind enough to take us out for day trips and show us “how it’s done”. These guys bring back way too much fish for a single boat and crew. That’s where Katie and I come into play. Mahi, wahoo, grouper, snapper, you name it. It has been in our bellies every day. We have been spoiled with fresh meals and good company during out time here, making us feel like queens. The heat and bugs, on the other hand, make us feel like peasants.