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Log 17: Tributes, Viewpoints, and other Pit Stops Closest to the Sun (Sort of)
The sun peeked out from the horizon as we roll out of bed aboard Belafonte in Long Island, Bahamas. Several days of exploring Clarence Town, Dean’s Blue Hole, and other spots near our anchorage, we decide to follow the advice of other cruisers, guidebooks, and locals, and rent a car for the day to explore… Read more
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Log 16: Endless Depths ~ Dean’s Blue Hole
Suspended in the clear cool water, I watch sand slowly drip from an underwater ledge into the abyss below me. I lock eyes on a black particle in the sand. It funnels down like a leaf floating on a flowing river toward the edge, and then pours into deep shades of blue circles around a… Read more
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Log 15: May Country Music Do Your Bidding – Arrival in Long Island
I stand on Belafonte’s bow, arm wrapped around the furled jib, like a playful kid hanging off their parent’s neck. We are approaching Calabash Bay, Long Island, Bahamas. I scan the water’s horizon for color changes. Scouring our entry path for coral heads, large rocks, and any other navigational hazard that could turn any dreamy… Read more
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Log 14: The Long-Awaited Family Island Regatta in Georgetown, Exuma
Night has fallen, and warm hues dance in the spotlight of a large glowing outdoor stage. The upbeat Soca music is turned down, grabbing our attention. We stand in the crowd alongside proud Bahamians, sailors, tourists, locals, and Kalik enthusiasts. The Bahamas’ Prime Minister approaches the microphone. He announces that sailing is now the official… Read more
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Log 13: Dodging Sharks, Finding Dinner, & Island Hoping South
After a wonderful time hanging out near Oven Rock and Little Farmer’s Cay, Exumas, we pick up anchor and head out to what will turn out to be a whirlwind of island hopping. First stop, Rudder Cut Cay, one of the small private islands owned by famed magician David Copperfield, where an underwater statue, a… Read more
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Log 12: A Vagabond’s Easter Dinner
Lazily, I lay sprawled across our galley settee. It was morning, but already, a few beads of sweat form above my brow from the stale humid air in the boat (or lack thereof) from the wind’s absence. I stare at the calendar on our whiteboard that’s slowly teetering back and forth from Belafonte’s light cradle-like… Read more
Sailing la Cosmica 