Cuban Excursion-parte nueva- Bahamas and home

Cuban Excursion- parte Nueva- Bahamas

Sun. Dec. 9^th, 2018- Great Stirrup Cay- Bahamas

         We were up at 6 A.M. The Sirena was sailing into the Berry Island Group of the Grand Bahama Islands. The island group lies some 130 miles due east of Miami, Florida. It is an uprising in the Ocean floor that features a series of coral atolls, covered in a thin layer of dirt and sand. We were headed for a small atoll (Great Stirrup Cay) that the NCL group, owner of Oceana lines, had purchased and developed. They had blasted out an opening in the coral atoll for an entrance way into a small lagoon. Then, they had dredged the lagoon for a channel to allow passage and shipped in tons of sand, to make a beach area for ship’s passengers. It didn’t sound particularly enticing, but we would be surprised later to find out how nice it is.

          It was warm and overcast at 7 A.M., as we walked our 22 laps on the deck eleven oval. The seas were a crystal blue and calm as we glided through the warm waters. Indication of land nearby came in the form of several birds, kestrels I think, that were buzzing curiously around the ship. An omelet breakfast, on the open fantail of the deck ten café, was both restful and appealing. The soft wind, the warm air and the rising sun made it an ideal place to linger over coffee and conversation.

          A visit to the deck four purser settled our accounts for the voyage. Oceana really doesn’t over charge you for anything. We thought all of their charges more than reasonable. We hunted down our room steward and tipped her liberally, thanking her for taking care of us for the last ten days. Then, we repaired to the cabin to read for a bit and ready for the day.

         At 11:30 A.M we ventured down to the deck three portal, to board an open ferry that would tender us in to the beach. It was a large, two- decked affair that could accommodate a crowd. Though the seas were calm, transferring an aging crew of passengers onto a moving ferry was a challenge for the crew. We eyed our surroundings for the brief ride into the pier. The coral itself is sear and heat blasted. Thin levels of soil already featured some Grape leaf trees, red mangrove trees and various thistle types of shrubbery. Tall coconut palms stood out.

        At the pier, we walked through a small enclave of vendors hawking tees shirts, beach wear and other souvenirs. A stone rest room facility and a large-roofed and open sided shelter centered the area. Here, the ship would provide a barbecue lunch for those on shore just in case you didn’t want to miss out on that odd 1,000 calorie mid-day caloric assault.

        We sat down on the beach chairs provided. There were hundreds of them, all sitting patiently in neat rows. When the big ships come in, they are filled with sun bathing passengers. We ventured down to the ocean’s edge, to walk into the very blue water, with a white sand bottom. It was cool, this far out in the Atlantic. It reminded me of swimming in Lake Erie. You had to walk in up to your knees and let your body adjust to the cool water temperatures. Then maybe slide in up to your waist and further adjust until you slide all the way in with a delighted shriek. By then, the water felt perfect and exhilarating. A good-sized crowd of fellow passengers were swimming all around us. It was an idyllic time at the beach. Regretfully, we made our way back to shore and attempted to dry off. Lunch was nearing and we had a brief eco tour scheduled for 1:30 P.M. The picnic lunch was a caloric onslaught. We selected a few items and munched on them under a shaded pavilion. The biggest thing to remember in these heated environs, is to keep drinking water. Dehydration occurs quickly in this type of heat and sun.

         A small crowd gathered at the tourist information hut at 1:30. Several were going off on jet skis to run through the surrounding waters. We boarded a small, roofed, tour boat that was chock full of other passengers. The boat skipper looked, talked and sounded like a younger version of golfer Phil Mickelson. I later asked him if he had any relatives that played golf in southern California. He just smiled and gave a non-committal answer.

        The hour and a half tour was informative. We would motor up to a cove area, of a surrounding Island. A diver on the boat would slip into the water and brink up various sea creatures for our touch and feel observations. The adult star fishes were huge. The keratin surface was reddish, rough and hard. The sea cucumber looked like a small loaf of rye bread. A it lay on the seat it started to evacuate a stream of water. I thought I might be the only person on the planet than had been peed on by a sea cucumber. The guide explained that these creatures puffed up with water under the sea and when surfaced deflated by expelling water. Thanks, I appreciated that tid-bit. The sea biscuits were small, brown affairs about the size of their name. The conchs were much larger. And they are much valued. We had tried and enjoyed conch fritters and conch chowder in Key West. Both are delicious. The joke of the trip was that you had to ease the conchs back into the water. Throwing them back in, the guide said with a smile,  would give them a “conk-cushion.” Everyone laughed dutifully.

      A good narration of the seas, who had traversed them in history and how they handle hurricanes this far out into the ocean (hunker down and pray) was both informative and fun. The surrounding coral shores look like a heat-blasted and harsh environment. It was nearing 4 P.M. and we had to head in. The tender ferry was waiting nearby. We boarded her and made for the ship. The seas were rising ahead of a blow that was coming in tomorrow. It made for a tricky re-entry into the ships deck-three portal. Aging and unsure adults were virtually hand carried across the entrance portal. It had been both an interesting and fun day at the beach.

          In our cabin, we started packing for our return journey. It was near time to go home and we were ready. We cleaned up from our shore excursion and made it up to the deck ten Horizon’s lounge for the last “happy hour” of the voyage. Like every night, we traded stories of what we had seen and done during the day. We again joined Rodger and Sue Burton, of Kansas City, for dinner in the grand dining room. Amidst pleasant conversation and a few laughs, we enjoyed shrimp, Caesar salads, filet of salmon and chocolate cream cake with a glass of the Chilean cabernet. They feed you well on this old bucket.

            After dinner, we repaired to our cabin. Everyone had to finish packing and have their bags out in the hall by ten P.M. so the crew could start getting them ready for off-loading. We then settled in to read and drift off to sleep. It had been a very pleasant cruise and we were glad that we had come.

        Mon. Dec. 10^th, arriving at the port of Miami.

       We were up by 5 A.M. expectant with all that we had to do to get off ship and find our way back to Estero on the other coast of Florida.  We had but a few books and things to take with us. Everything else was packed and sent ashore already. We cleaned up and headed for the deck ten café. I would have thought it would be pandemonium but it was calm and well ordered. The staff was professional and polite to the very end. We enjoyed the same omelets and service that we had on the previous ten days aboard ship. We waved to a few fellow passengers who we would not see again. One very old German couple were a delight. They were Berliners. He had tolerated my halting German throughout the voyage and a few tours. Many of these folks we had grown very fond of during a brief, few days.

      We stood topside and watched the lit-up areas of Miami slide into view. The harbor cranes, several tugs and various loading crews were already busy with the day’s tasks. All passengers were instructed to sit  in the various lounges and await the call of their numbered release. Our luggage group was a green- three. We got paged about 8:45 A.M.. We exited the ship, waved good bye to ship’s crew and found our bags easily enough, in the cavernous entry hall at dockside. A passage through American customs was perfunctory. Our gang of forty assembled dockside to await our ride home. The bus driver had screwed up and it was late in arriving. It gave us all yet another opportunity to talk with those who had shared the voyage with us. Watching the well-ordered port crew handle both arriving and departing passengers would make a good weekly television serial. They were characters.

           Finally, the large land cruiser wheeled into our terminal. A grateful bevy of passengers loaded our bags underneath and boarded the bus for the two-hour ride across the glades and home. On the ride back, we were thoughtful. Images, of what we had seen, still percolated in our consciousness. The cultural contrasts, the beautiful scenery, the fun that we had all shared was still fresh with us. Bob Ciccarelli led the group in a singing of God Bless America. It might sound corny to some but it sure meant something to all of us. Finally, we arrived at the Spring Run Complex. Everyone picked up their bags, tipped Charles the driver and made their way back to their homes. It had been a wonderful adventure, but we were all collectively glad to be home.

                                         -30-

                                      (1,704 words)

                                Joseph Xavier Martin