Berry Island Club and clearing Customs and Immigration

May 14, 2013

The forecast winds blew out of the NE around 25-ish at about 0100. I got up to look at the radar, and wondered how the bands of rain, that I had hoped to de-salt the boat, had passed all around me, never raining on our little band of brothers at all.

I went into the dock around 0830 to get a ride with Howard to the airport to clear Customs. Two couples, off two sailboats; the Full Deck, and Simpatico, and I, piled into Howard's pick-up truck for the bumpy ride across the island.

 

The interior scrub of the island looks a lot like the undeveloped areas of the lower Keys, except with a little more elevation. The ride was long enough that I was glad that I wasn't walking. Howard claimed he was familiar enough with the potholes in the road that he could find them all.

It was a little disconcerting that the vehicle that we were riding in had no brakes, but, fortunately, we went around the only hill in the way, and the potholes kept us from developing too much momentum on the slopes. I commented that I was glad that I was sitting in the middle, so that those near the doors could leap out to slow the vehicle if necessary.

I wish I had taken my camera. As we approached a low area, as in sea-level low, there was a sign with an arrow pointing to the right that said, "Danger, Blue Hole." Howard told us that several hundred feet of that road are frequently awash, and the sign was to direct vehicles from driving into the blue hole when the road is submerged.

Clearing Customs and Immigration was interesting. (Note, it would be tremendously easy for me to use the term "fiasco" had I not decided that I would do my best to keep this a positive blog.) I had filled out all my paperwork, with the exception of the fishing permit, which I didn't have, while underway on the crossing. One of the sailboats had their paperwork, and one didn't. They were informed that Customs does not have the forms, that they need to come from the marina (a long way on a pot-holed road with a spring-free, brake-free truck. I have never seen a bureaucratic office without forms, but, I have seen Officers arrive on scene without them. I dug in my backpack, and managed to produce all but one of the necessary blank forms for that couple.



The Officer rebuked Howard and sent him to Chub Cay Marina, which is closer, for the additional errant form. She even lent Howard her truck, since he didn't want to go down the hill in his truck. My fellow sailors were grateful to not have to return again.

While I try to have my little duckies in a row, I must admit than anticipation of meeting the dreaded official had me in trepidation. I realized in horror that I had not brought a pen to sign the necessary places on the forms in her presence, and begged one from one of my fellow miscreants. 

My visit to the principals office only got me demerits for not placing my immigration form inside my passport to hand it to her, rather than including it in the swath of papers as I had. When she insisted I hadn't given her a form, I would say that, "Yes ma'am, it is there," and she would eventually find it. She complained that I had an illegible form (faxed that way to me from the Department of Agriculture, Nassau) for the Import of Domestic Animals for my service dog, Mercy. 

I believe in trying to be prepared, respectful, and confident, even though my confidence had waned considerably in the hour long wait for clearing the two couples ahead of me. When she chastised me for not having the import receipt, my confidence was back in place. "No ma'am, service animals are not charged import duties." 
She smiled at me and cleared me in, for my $300 fee, and limited my stay to 90 days. I can extend that by making another trip to an Immigration Office. Oh well. It was noon by the time we got back to the Berry Island Club.

My sailing partners and I bonded as quickly as any kids who have suffered detention together, and we all placed orders with Howard for dinner tonight at the restaurant. Conch, here I come. I even volunteered to drive the water taxi tonight.

As I went below this afternoon, I was viciously attacked by my bunk, and succumbed to a two hour, well-deserved nap. The NE breeze is cool, and it was a perfect afternoon to be on a mooring, napping.

Bahama Bank to Berry Island Club

Monday, May 13, 2013

I woke up around 0630 to a glass calm, slightly hazy, no wind, gorgeous day! The crystal clear water on the Bahamas Bank was spectacular.

Aside from engine room checks, all of my chores waited until we were underway. I listened to the SSB weather, and decided that I would head for Berry Island Club east of Frazer Cay in the Berry Islands to clear Customs, and ride out the high winds forecast for midnight.

I lost my glass calm before 0900, though the gentle SE wind made for an easy ride. I spent an hour or more on the bow, wondering when I was going to take the time to stop and dive some of the miscellaneous coral heads scattered around. It seems like I'm always in a hurry when I'm passing through here. I did mark a couple of likely looking numbers to return to some day during lobster season.

Today those mangoes that smelled so awful yesterday, smelled delightful, and I cut them up into ziplocks, except for the one I ate.

I came through the Northwest Channel passage at 1315, and kept doing the time calculations to get to Morgan's Bluff, clear Customs, and head for West Bay. Sometimes there just aren't enough hours in the day. I remained headed for the Berry Island Club.

The sun had ice crystals around it for much of the day, though my camera wouldn't allow me to capture the whole circle in its lens. The Tongue of the Ocean was its spectacular blue, though the winds and currents had created a driftline of floating debris on the northern edge of the Tongue, where I was running.

I turned into the channel along the east side of Frazer Key @1535 and went up to Berry Island Club to grab a mooring around 1600-ish. I cruised past several, looking at lines, anchors, and chains before grabbing a likely looking one. Then I took the Whaler and spoke to a couple on the only other boat in the vicinity, to see if they had any info on the conditions of the moorings. While alongside, Howard, the manager of the Berry Island Club, returned from a provisioning trip and assured me that the chains and anchors on all the moorings were new this past year, and just to check the conditions of the floating lines. I returned to the mooring I was already on, and ran an extra line to it for my stay.

Howard cruised by and I made arrangements with him for transport to the Chub Cay airport to clear Customs and Immigration in the morning.

I spent the rest of the evening straightening up the boat as I listened to an audio book. The mooring field eventually attracted three other boats, bringing our floating community to five. A sportfisherman anchored well below us.

I made a mango-banana smoothie, enjoying the rapidly melting ice from the ice chest on the Whaler. Life is good.

63nm travelled today