Cave Cay - A Short Story

Journal Entry
January 21, 2010

……We wanted a nice protected spot to weather out these high winds.

Cave Cay was the perfect spot with protection from all directions but as soon as we dropped the hook a voice came on the VHF in a very southern U.S. accent, “Vessel just entering Cave Cay Cove…this is Cave Cove Marina……What are your intentions?”

Harley was still up at the bow attending to the anchor so I come back, “This is Blue Blazes, We were planning on staying the night to get out of the weather….we will be leaving in the morning.” I replied.

“Anchoring is not allowed in the harbour…You are welcome to stay at our marina” came back the voice on the other end…….CRAP!

I called Harley back to the cockpit and after a short discussion we decided (what the heck) let’s take a slip for the night. After all, we haven’t tied to a dock since St. Augustine.

“Our batteries could use a charge.” Harley says, “I bet they have water to wash the deck.” he continued,

“I bet they have internet,” I added.

We radioed back to the voice, asked the price, and then said, “What is our slip assignment.”

Two very friendly faces greeted us at the dock to take our lines. In fact, they were overly friendly, which believe it or not freaked me out. I felt like the unsuspecting tourist character from a horror novel falling victim to some horrible plot.

Besides a boat that had as much growth on it as the dock, we were the only boat there.

At first glance this place appeared modern and well kept. The buildings were outstanding and the floating cement docks were built of the highest standards, but we soon found it was only a façade. The structure that looked to be the marina office was beautiful but it was locked up tight. When we peered into the windows we discovered it was totally empty.

I left Harley at the boat and walked up to the laundry, washrooms, and shower facilities. Call it a sixth sense, but I could swear something was watching me. Sure enough I was being carefully watched by four menacing looking German Sheppards. The facilities looked like they haven’t been used in several months with dust, twigs, and leaves that must have blown in over time covering the floors.

While walking back to the dock where Blue Blazes was securely tied, I could feel the burning stares of those intimidating dogs but not only that I could hear a conversation on a VHF radio coming from somewhere up the hill.

“I recognize those voices” I thought and then quickly realized it was Harley and Marg discussing where Lion’s Paw is anchored and what their plans were. Whoever was listening to that radio, was listening in on our working channel!

When I got back to the boat I tried to brush it off. “This is ridiculous.” I thought. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you.” I told myself.

I was creeped out for the rest of the day checking over my shoulder constantly. Even while on the internet I couldn’t help but think I was being watched.

The next day as we were leaving the owner of the place gave us his bill along with an 8 x 10 photo of our boat tied to their dock. (Probably taken by their surveillance camera) He said we could have it as a souvenir and asked us to come back anytime.

“Not in this lifetime!” I thought.


P.S. We had a phenomenal sail yesterday from Cave Cay to Georgetown.