Departed Warderick Wells this morning. We were the “test boat” with others waiting for our report on “how bad it is” in the ocean after the big blow. We had reconnoitered the situation from our flybridge, where we could see over the saddle of the island, and the waves had subsided considerably, to only 3-4 feet. We slipped our mooring, exited the harbor, and reported passable conditions. We only had about 45 minutes in the Sound before we were back on the relatively sheltered Banks. Had a pleasant run about 35 miles south to Little Farmer’s Cay, population 55. We picked up a mooring, launched the dinghy and set out to meet the locals. At the government dock was the welcoming party; four fellows selling freshly caught and cleaned conch. We took four, and a few beautiful shells to boot. Another boater informed us of the “must do” Superbowl party at the Yacht Club. We weren’t interested in the game, but wanted to socialize, and so went in for a beverage. The owner was grilling ribs on a 55-gallon drum barbeque (noticed some local goats – we wonder?), and the Club was actually more like a public restaurant, island style. Met a couple from Prince Edward Island and one from Virginia, both sailors.
Walked about the island today, and will dine ashore tonight, February 2, at Ocean Cabin, a restaurant which also runs the mooring field. We made reservations, and were requested to select our entrees so they could go out and catch them. Talk about fresh! This establishment advertises its hours of operation as “Most days about 9 or 10, occasionally as early as 7; but some days as late as 12 or 1. We close about 5 or 6, or maybe about 4 or 5. Some days or afternoons we aren’t here at all and lately we’ve been here about all the time except when we’re some place else but we might be here then, too.” Jerry recognized these as the same hours as the Crow’s Nest in Tobermory!
We’ll stay on “our ball” tonight, as a thunder squall is predicted, and this should hold us securely. Then we won’t suffer the fate of Blue Sky, this old turtleback tossed up by a hurricane.
Departed Warderick Wells this morning. We were the “test boat” with others waiting for our report on “how bad it is” in the ocean after the big blow. We had reconnoitered the situation from our flybridge, where we could see over the saddle of the island, and the waves had subsided considerably, to only 3-4 feet. We slipped our mooring, exited the harbor, and reported passable conditions. We only had about 45 minutes in the Sound before we were back on the relatively sheltered Banks. Had a pleasant run about 35 miles south to Little Farmer’s Cay, population 55. We picked up a mooring, launched the dinghy and set out to meet the locals. At the government dock was the welcoming party; four fellows selling freshly caught and cleaned conch. We took four, and a few beautiful shells to boot. Another boater informed us of the “must do” Superbowl party at the Yacht Club. We weren’t interested in the game, but wanted to socialize, and so went in for a beverage. The owner was grilling ribs on a 55-gallon drum barbeque (noticed some local goats – we wonder?), and the Club was actually more like a public restaurant, island style. Met a couple from Prince Edward Island and one from Virginia, both sailors.
Walked about the island today, and will dine ashore tonight, February 2, at Ocean Cabin, a restaurant which also runs the mooring field. We made reservations, and were requested to select our entrees so they could go out and catch them. Talk about fresh! This establishment advertises its hours of operation as “Most days about 9 or 10, occasionally as early as 7; but some days as late as 12 or 1. We close about 5 or 6, or maybe about 4 or 5. Some days or afternoons we aren’t here at all and lately we’ve been here about all the time except when we’re some place else but we might be here then, too.” Jerry recognized these as the same hours as the Crow’s Nest in Tobermory!
We’ll stay on “our ball” tonight, as a thunder squall is predicted, and this should hold us securely. Then we won’t suffer the fate of Blue Sky, this old turtleback tossed up by a hurricane. 
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