Standing on the deck slopping wet from an ocean dip, we briskly rubbed a soap bar across us, and jumped back into the chilly water below. Just 20 minutes before, we finally anchored at Allen’s Cay after a bumpy 8-hour upwind sail.
Honestly, we didn’t think the water was going to be this cold! But we laugh it off; knowing that the cooler the water stays, the better hurricane season (or lack thereof) will theoretically be.
We climbed back aboard, peering at the large motor yacht next to us. Another surprise: there were way more boats here than we imagined there would be. Anchoring is like parking your motorhome, calling upon your situational awareness, knowledge of your rig, a bit of patience, and a healthy use of common sense. Anchoring in a busy anchorage, is like parallel parking the motorhome, except even after you park, collisions are still possible.
After talking with fellow cruisers, we’ve heard that chartering boats through this area has rapidly increased in the last few years. Worried about swinging too wide, and a certain lack of sleep, we decided we should move “parking spots.” A man with an adorable big white fluffy dog drove his dinghy near us. “Hey! There’s space by us! We were monohaul people until last year, so we get it!… We’re right over there!” He pointed to a big beautiful blue trawler a few boats down and zipped off. We started our engine up and waddled ole’ Belly (yup, that’s Belafonte’s new nickname) down the way.
About 20 minutes into what turned into an ordeal, I decided anchoring (around others) was one of my least favorite things thus far. Being probably the only full keel monohaul in the anchorage means our boat swings a bit different than others. Praying the correctly set anchor maintains hold on the sand below, a certain about of chain must also be released for it to do its job. When the winds shift and the current/tides flow, boats swing around, typically without issue. Unless your anchor drags.
The sun fell, we cooked up the lesser amberjack we caught along the way for dinner and headed to dream land. Around 2 am, we awoke to our keel lightly kissing the sand. Damn! We let out a bit more chain and waited for the tide to rise.
Morning came, and many of the other boats departed, yay! We scootched up to a different spot and got ready for a day of exploring. We dinghied over crystal clear water and plopped ourselves on one of the powdery sand beaches.
In a matter of seconds these big chunky iguanas scampered out from the brush right at us! Black and grey with dashes of pink, these rock iguanas came straight out of a Jurassic Park movie. Turns out, these scaly fatties are a unique subspecies of the Northern Bahamian Rock Iguana. Named the “Allen Cays iguanas” (or Cyclura cychlura inornate), it was clear they were looking for a handout. Turns out this place was also called, Iguana Beach, and you guessed it, these iguanas were the main attraction.
Without galloping into the sunset on my high horse… y’all gota’ know… feeding the wildlife is bad. Back home, “a fed bear is a dead bear” because once the association between humans and food are made, people can get hurt. Don’t care about people? I’ll call your bluff, but fine, it’s also terrible for the animal. It can cause them gastrointestinal distress (like that one time you couldn’t get off the pot after that one restaurant, remember that?) In the case of these Allen Cays iguanas, it can even change their physiology over time. Not a good thing. For more on this, check out Culture Trip‘s article about it (here).
After a leisurely walk around the island, we zipped over to the neighboring one. Greeted by another family of iguanas, we hiked up a sandy path, leading us to the secluded picturesque beach on the other side of the tiny island. A perfect place for a quick dip.
On the way out, we saw a stone path leading into the woods. There were no signs, so we tip toed to see where it led. At the top was an old, abandoned building tagged with graffiti, perched up on the hilltop. What remnants were these? We wondered.
When we returned to the boat, another sailboat had anchored nearby. It was to be another sleepless night as our “Belly” danced circles in the current. A few close calls with the other vessel yielded radio communication and cockpit shifts. The next morning the other boat scooted away from us and dinghied up to our boat in the afternoon to say hi and yikes. They were super nice! Making all previous reservations dissolve. They told us of a plane crash a few hours south that we could snorkel on and shared tips about different cruising spots.
It was house chore day. We ran our watermaker, washed some dirty laundry, and prepped for a morning departure. We met another cruiser that evening and enjoyed some snacks and drink aboard his boat, listening to sea stories, before heading to bed and getting some much-needed zzzs.
A hearty breakfast followed by a tack or two led us to the mysterious plane crash we heard tales of. One of the stories go, that the plane was an old drug runner of Pablo Escobar’s that had crashed one fateful night. Another, was that a wealthy man who was attempting to sell his plane to another, but crashed it after a few too many boozy beverages. Either way, we had to see it for ourselves.
As you can see, it was awesome! Encrusted with young corals, and laying in a shallow spot it was an easy and fun pit stop. We continued our way to our next destination, Shroud Cay, located on the northern end of the famous crowned jewel, the Exumas Land and Sea National Park.
~ Day 34
Sailing la Cosmica 
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