It’s a regatta unlike any other. We arrive at Little Farmer’s Cay (resident population of 55) on Wednesday to insure we have a good anchorage spot. At this point there aren’t that many boats around so we claim the deepest hole (9 ft.) on the west side of the Cay. Off we go to Ocean Cabin, the traditional headquarters for the many festivities, to volunteer our assistance. Terry Bain, the proprietor and descendent of the Cay’s original settlers, is looking for volunteers to head some of the activities. We show up the next day for the volunteer meeting which begins with copious amount of rum punch. Burt is assigned as a judge for the wet tee-shirt and dinghy race contests, while I find myself a judge for the best men’s legs and conch blowing contest. It sounds a little contrived but we’ll give it a shot. We had actually hoped to be helping with the Bahamian sloop races, but that is managed by another entity.
Friday dawns as the first day of the festival. Just after sunrise the Captain C, the mailboat/freighter out of Nassau that services the northern Exumas, arrives with sloops lining the freight deck and the entire expatriate population of Little Farmers on the upper deck with music blaring.
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| Captain C arrives with the boats on deck |
They have spent the night in transit from Nassau to attend this “Homecoming” festival on their family island, now swelling the island population to over a thousand. Food stands are erected and music is everywhere. Start time for the race is listed as 9am but we’re on island time. By noon all the boats have been off loaded from the freighter and rigged. They bob off the west side beach in front of Ty’s Beach Bar which is celebrating its opening day. It’s a cute place, painted in bright Bahamian colors and definitely a happening spot.
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| Ty's is the place to be! |
That doesn’t bode well for Terry’s big plans as everyone has deserted the central town. We struggle to recruit enough individuals for the “legs” contest and all of the other plans, except for betting on crab racing, die for lack of interest.
Now, crab racing is an interesting concept. It starts with eight land hermit crabs, shells numbered, in a bucket. You scope out the crabs and choose your favorite for win, place, or show. Of course, there’s a bit of low dollar wagering involved.
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| Terry explains the snail racing concept |
At the appointed time, the bucket is inverted into the center of a target drawn on the concrete, the bucket is lifted and the crabs take off, hopefully with yours headed for the outer perimeter of the target. Hopefully, because racing crabs is akin to herding cats; they just don’t go where you intend them to go.
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| And they're off, sort of |
We all get a good laugh, and Burt wins first place in the first race, netting us a huge $7 payout. It is a shame, though, that Ocean Cabin’s activities have bombed as Terry puts a portion of the proceeds towards STEP, an organization he founded that is trying to stop private development in the Exuma National Park.
Friday night we join in with other cruisers and locals at Roosevelt Nixon’s Farmer’s Cay Yacht Club for dinner and a jam session. We enjoy chatting with Mr. Nixon, a very dignified descendent of another founding family of the Cay. Four cruisers show up with guitars, a mandolin, and a harmonica. As usual, it’s an international crowd with representatives from the US, Canada, and New Zealand. The singing and clapping go well into the night.
Saturday we are free to spend the entire day watching the races. Bahamian sloop races are run a bit different than anything we have seen.
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| The sloops anchored off the beach prior to racing |
It’s a windy day with gusts in the mid 20’s and the sloops, around 15 in the first race, sail out to the starting line where they drop sails and anchor, assisted generally by the team tender.
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| Smashie, one of the Black Point boats we helped launch, sails out to the starting line |
At the sound of the starting gun sails are raised, anchors hoisted, and off they go to the windward mark. The sloops themselves are fairly light weight with ballast added for the anticipated wind. They choose a sail size (large, medium, or small) and crew size (4 -6) again based on anticipated wind speed. The crew rides hiking boards that extend over the gunnels of the boats. What you see are billowing white sails with flailing arms and legs of the crew.
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| The sloops under sail during a race |
Tacking is choreographed chaos that can result in pinched fingers and toes at worst and bruises everywhere at best. There is also carnage among the boats with a few capsizing or breaking essential equipment. The courses are windward/leeward just off the beach with the finish line placed in the middle of all the anchored boats off the beach bar. And, there are many anchored boats. A number of cruisers have anchored just off shore and brought their dinghies on to the beach while locals from Cays as far as 50 miles away have driven their skiffs and power boats to Farmer’s for the festivities. There is constant commentary and cheering from the onlookers. I claim a small patch of shade and am joined by various others looking for some relief from the sun. One girl asks to join me. She is the TV anchor person for a Nassau based show on sailing, and she asks if she can interview me for the show they are taping. So, now I have made it on to Bahamian TV, answering questions about our experiences and perceptions of the Bahamas.
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| Everyone is on their feet for the exciting finish of the last race |
After the final race the trophies are brought out, many donated by various governmental agencies along with some of the wealthier land owners. The trophy presentation begins with the National Anthem and a prayer. Then various government representatives give short speeches, concluding with a speech by the Prime Minister of the Bahamas who stresses the importance of keeping the culture of sailing alive in the Bahamas – after all, this is a seafaring nation. Finally, the contestants are introduced and the trophies distributed. Along with the trophies the winner is given $2000 in cash. All this is being aired live on a Nassau radio station, albeit by the fairly low tech method of holding a telephone up to the loud speaker.
The revelers all adjourn to the various music venues, and we leave for the relative quiet of our boat – you can only take so much of the 5 F’s. The next morning the locals attend church, load the boats on to the Captain C, and leave for the return voyage to Nassau. Little Farmer’s goes back to its quiet existence, and we leave for Black Point – our anchorage has become rocky, and we want to watch the Super Bowl at Scorpio’s Bar.
It’s been a wonderful weekend, but now we begin the trip down to Georgetown and relative civilization. We will get a dock for two days at a Sandal’s resort that has bargain rates on dockage at the nicest marina we’ve ever seen, and then head to Georgetown proper where we can find real grocery stores, banks, and hardware stores, all of which we desperately need.
