There must be something black hole-like about boats and places named Georgetown.
In the Bahamas, George Town, on Great Exuma, is the winter refuge for hundreds of cruisers. The harbor is large and reasonably well protected and the town offers pretty much everything a cruiser could need – including flights home, if necessary.
It is also known as “Chicken Harbor.” George Town, Bahamas, is the last stop in the protection of the Exuma Islands chain. To continue on from there, you are in the open Atlantic. Many, many cruisers sail in with dreams of heading south into the Caribbean but find their anchors stuck in the sand. The temptations and relative security of George Town overshadow dreams of new islands and new adventures. Life is easy there, if not occasionally annoying (due, of course, to a bizarro handful of the hundreds of cruisers).
Our anchor got stuck there for two months. In our defense, we were waiting for some friends to sail in. But we, too, found life easy there. Entire days spent enjoying the beautiful tropical scene – a beach bar, new friends, a decent grocery store, and so on. But finally we did leave – and I’m glad we did.
I’m now in another Georgetown – this one in Maryland. I’ve been here for several days now – I would have to look at a calendar to tell you exactly how many. I didn’t expect to be here still but here I am.
A few days ago I was clipped by a tornado or a funnel cloud or a microburst or whatever. In my mind it doesn’t matter – it came from hell. But that’s not the reason I’m still here. Earlier that day, it was hot and muggy and I had found an old Windscoop on board. A Windscoop is a kite like chute that you put over a hatch to capture and funnel the wind down into the boat.
I tried to install it over the large, heavy forward hatch but couldn’t figure out how to attach it properly. Working from inside the boat, I had my head sticking out of the hatch by a few inches trying to secure it. It was then that something on the Windscoop caught the large spring holding up that large, heavy hatch, thus causing it to crash down at a surprisingly rapid pace. Gravity is really something, isn’t it? Before it could slam shut, however, the hatch found my head which was, as mentioned, sticking just few inches out.
It was full bore contact right on the top of my head. Blood immediately began pouring down my face and I screamed like a little girl (although little girls probably don’t use those words). To say the least, it was not a pleasant sensation.
A short while later, I noticed my peripheral vision was a bit askew. I also noticed that I was getting up to do things but, after getting up, would forget what I was going to do. It seems I had managed to give myself a slight concussion.
Shortly after that happy experience, the storm hit. It was not my best day.
So, after that painfully long story, I’m in Georgetown (Maryland) waiting for a cognitive recovery. Almost there, I think – but who would know?
The Georgetown Yacht Basin is a very nice place. Bicycles are provided at no charge – which is a good thing considering the nearest small grocery is nearly two miles away. It is also in a very protected little harbor. Occasionally, I can even pick up a wifi signal.
Which brings me to the point of this post. I used one of the bikes to pedal my way to the grocery store for supplies. Snacks, of course, play a prominent role in my provisioning list and, as such, I picked up a bag of mini Snickers bars. I was shocked, I tell you, shocked at what I found upon ripping that bag open. I was so shocked, I decided to write the CEO of the Snickers people. Below is the text of my letter:
To the Snickers Candy Bar Company:
While I wholeheartedly agree, as you apparently believe, that obesity is an enormous (sorry about the pun) problem in America. It is certainly possible that you yourself are obese and I, too, suffer from a certain unforeseen bulge around my wasteline that I am certain is largely (again, sorry about the pun) gravity related.
And while I could possibly laud you in your apparent attempt at resolving the colossal fat-related ills of our vast nation, I have no choice but to tell you that it is hugely unconscionable that you have reduced the size of your mini Snickers bars to a microscopic level. C’mon – they were already MINI Snickers. At a minimum you should, in all fairness, change the label on your packaging removing the word “Mini” and replacing it with “Microscopic.”
Or better yet – just realize that if someone wants to honk down Snickers bars, you have no control over that. You simply cannot take on that massive responsibility. I am certain your (enlarged) hearts were in the right place, but I think the execution is misplaced. For the love of all that is good and holy people, please make a mini Snickers bar that doesn’t require an electron microscope to see! I can’t afford an electron microscope! I can barely afford the Microscopic Snickers! They are so small I had to honk down half the bag in one sitting!
….Hey! Wait a minute! Nah, couldn’t be…
In addition to the slight cranial trauma, there has been a tad bit of indecision concerning the future. On my best days, making such decisions is an ugly affair but now it is even more so. I am within a day’s sail of my original goal. Less than 200 miles south, however, is a very nice, protected marina that appears as though it would be a better summer home for Shadow Marie. There are, as usual, many tradeoffs. One way or another, I will be soon making my way (sans boat) back to Cape Cod to get my truck. That should be another interesting adventure given that I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish it.
visit http://www.lifecaptions.com/blog/ for more stories of Mitch and Shadow Marie
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