The Bahamian Mockingbird, which one elusive source introduced by saying that if you thought you had fifteen birds outside your window, you probably had a mocking bird, and they were right:
I haven’t identified these yet, but I sure wish I had one in my dining room:
Nancy’s, at the bottom end of Abaco, in Sandy Point. A lovely spot, somehow preserved, yet Nancy has been dead these 18 years. The chairs have Disney symbols, and the hideous Castaway Cay is off in the distance to the right (not in the photo), and we wondered if these had slowly but surely washed ashore so to speak. But the place has been almost untouched by the Disney proximity, who source most everything from Miami, despite many promises of local economic benefit when they purchased the offshore cay from the Bahamian government, roundly observed to be amongst the most corrupt. But the people seem rather pleased to have been left alone.
We just aren’t sure if they are serious, but there certainly are black Bahamian parrots, and a parrot preserve, at the southern end of the island. But you have to love the sign:
Pete’s Pub, which might just be one particular harbour, in Little Harbour. The story of the founding, and foundry, are most remarkable, and Pete’s father, Randall Johnston, originally of Toronto, sure took prepping to the nth degree. His story is captured in his edited diary, Artist on his Island: a Study in Self Reliance, and his youngest son and grand-children still occupy the harbour to this day. They also serve pretty yummy fish.
What once was the lighthouse, and a view from within of the Atlantic. Little Harbour sits just at the southern end of the cays that make up the sea of Abaco.
Beautiful stingrays from the Johnston foundry, that gently bob in the wind. Randall and his wife were both artists and made both lovely and dreadful statues and castings.
And finally back to Treasure Cay, sunning with the curly tails:
And this really is a starfish trail, as he or she wanders about at low tide, not getting eaten by rays:
And, finally, a happy goofy me:
Hoping all is as well as it can be in this best of all possible worlds. And yes, I know Voltaire was being sarcastic, but hey, sometimes things can be pretty good.
Yesterday it was the south end of Abaco, and today the north end of Little Abaco, to a town called Fox Town and fried conch and beer and nice chatty sailors from Montreal, as well as an unusual trip down “farm road” to drop off a hitch-hiking Haitian lass at a shanty town that swallowed up about 50 kids who had been dropped off by school buses coming down from Coopers Town, who vanished behind a large painted wooden fence, near a failed citrus farm called Bahama Star Farm. I don’t think I have ever seen such a sight. Almost nothing visible. But I didn’t take pictures of that … too intrusive. Not an adult to be seen, no infrastructure … but perhaps way better than Haiti. We had picked up four girls, three of whom were coming from school but missed the bus, and the Haitian lass had been having her nails done … yes, that was her priority and they were pretty fabulous nails … but one couldn’t help but think pregnancy was next on her list. I suspect they had originally come to work on the citrus farm but that was belly up for all one could tell.
But here is the little bar in Fox town and view from same where we had excellent conch, and I kid you not. Lightly breaded and incredibly tender. Same chef lady as had been there back in 2008 when offspring #2 ate Lion fish and got incredibly sick. It wasn’t on the menu this time. Conch or a cheeseburger was the menu.
Just about says it all, and happy Leap Year!