Part II of the Bahamian Meander

It is Saturday morning, the final day of May in the year of our Lord 2025. I am again at the formica table aboard our little houseboat swinging on a mooring ball off Stocking Island. We are getting used to our lodgings and its idiosyncracies, especially its solar powered electrical system which yesterday morning, we feared was approaching zero battery life, and upon returning from our wanders, encountered a full battery bank. I'm no electrical engingeer, but my sense is the capacity is pitiful but if the sun is high and beating (as it was), recharge rates are substantial.

Catherine is truly enamored with the houseboat vibe. She loves being on the water, and as opposed to a sailboat, you are very close to the water aboard one of these things I am less enamored, as I fear it does neither boat nor house very well. These differences of opinion keep relationships fresh and new, I am told.

We have had a lovely time here on our mooring, which included me falling into the water twice yesterday whilst trying to board a kayak (to the laughter of my inamorata who was from the start, inclined against my embarkation methods) and a lovely trip across the way to the famous “Chat and Chill" and its world-renowned Conch Salad. I must insist that conch is overrated. I have never had conch in any form that was not sort of gummy and tasteless. It is inoffensive mind you, and as a delivery vehicle for nutrients, I suppose it is as good as any. But the fame of the conch salad I ate yesterday (more of a cerviche, if you ask me) was due to all the OTHER ingredients. Conch was simply a filler.

This is a dicey time of year in this part of the world, as the high season has ended and it is sometimes difficult to find suitable dining options. There's one place near us with a big sign saying OPEN but which was decidedly not so upon close inspection. Two other beach shacks of varying quality were also closed. I was called into action as Chef de Cuisine and whipped up a hamburger helper like concoction that was not unlovely.

Twenty-four hours from now, a water taxi will take us to the far shore (George Town) where we will meet a driver to take us thirty minutes hence to meet up with our seafaring hosts. We will begin our transit north as weather permits.

Reading Fare

I am well-armed for long periods devoted to reading on this particular vacation, and as long as my tablet/kindle combo continues to work, I will have no excuse for idleness. I just finished a fascinating biography of Emperor Charles V (“Emperor: A New Life of Charles V), someone I knew very little of, and the progenitor of a dynasty of which I knew even less.

I have moved on to a bit of C.S. Lewis (“Surprisd by Joy") a work recommended to me by the wonderful sister of a dear friend. I am having some trouble determining whether I have actually already read this book, or is my knowledge of it simply the result of seeing a fantastic Netflix dramatization of C.S. Lewis' formative years that borrows heavily from it. Several things are worth saying about it.

First, the writing--as one would expect--is superb. I will add C.S. Lewis to E.B. White as my spirit animals among authors. Second, Lewis' description of the high level of predatory pederasty in the pre-WWI English public school system is…and I don't think this word improper…shocking. That he dismisses it as casually as he does (though to be fair, he is VERY down on the English public school system generally--just not on this practice specifically) does not speak well of him, and I will brook no charges of “presentism" on this account.

That said, he is doing a wonderful job of building up to his eventual acceptance of Christianity, something he's written about without equal elsewhere.

In hot standby for when I finish Lewis is Rick Atkinson's second of a three book series on the American Revolution “The Fate of the Day: The War for America, Fort Ticonderoga to Charleston, 1777-1780”. The first book of this series was an all timer, and I look for the same from this one. My interest in the American Revolution is equalled by no other conflict across civilizations and time, and these three years of it are interesting if for no other reason than to gain a greater appreciation for Washington's strategic genius (and operational mediocrity).

Wahoo

It is Sunday night, 1 June, and I am sitting alone in the darkened salon of sailing vessel WAHOO, my home for the voyage back up to the Chesapeake Bay. We are pierside in Exuma, and there is a spectacular thunderstorm providing a light show that isn't to be missed. We are tentatively planning on getting underway midday tomorrow headed to the Abacos, where we'll anchor for two more days before the northbound transit.

The boat is simply beautiful, and I have begun to devour the tech manuals for all the major systems because that's what I'm supposed to do. Back with you in a few days!