Changes In The AbacosFifteen years ago I had the wonderful opportunity to travel through the Abacos with my parents on their sailboat. I spent the entire three weeks of my college Christmas break exploring the Bahamas, sailing from island to island and getting to know the Bahamas for the first time. Something about that trip hooked me for good, the remainder of my days sitting in class were spent daydreaming of the islands and their magical waters. During that particular trip I had sailed with them to Eleuthera where we spent a week or so before heading to the Abacos where I spent the rest of my vacation. The Bahamas at that time had a feeling of being detached from the rest of the world. The people who called these islands home and the few visitors who made the trek here were rewarded with some of the most unspoiled and pristine ocean ecosystems on Earth. It was this natural beauty that lured me into fantasizing about returning to these islands on my own boat and with more time.
That time came a few years later when I made the commitment to a vessel of my own and a commitment to explore the Bahamas without time constraints. I invited my girlfriend, now wife to join me and after a yard sale she flew down with a one way ticket. I picked her up in Marsh Harbour, Abaco and for the next two months we slowly made circles around all the islands of the Abacos. We lit the famous lighthouse in Hope Town on Elbow Cay, walked the quaint streets of Plymouth on Green Turtle Cay, bought a used snorkel from Troy at Dive Guana on Great Guana Cay, and spent countless days snorkeling the barrier reef that lies just offshore all the islands. Since we were on a shoestring budget with a focus on making our experience last as long as possible we got most of our food from the sea. I had some fishing experience, but after going hungry too many times I discovered getting in the water and spearfishing was a much more effective and proficient form of providing protein. This experience also made both of us somewhat of marine biologist of a sort. Jeannette did not carry a spear, but she was a quick learner and would help me spot prime fish or the telltale antenna of a lobster hiding under a ledge. With more and more time spent in the water we were soon able to quickly discern what certain ecosystems held as far as fish, lobster, conch, and the health of the reef. On this trip we ended up spending seven months sailing through the Bahamas all the way down to Staniel Cay in the Exumas covering roughly five hundred miles within the Bahamas and fifteen islands.
Since then my wife and I have sailed an additional 10,000 miles through the Bahamas and once to the Leeward and Windward islands of the Eastern Caribbean. We have first hand witnessed the difference between a thriving reef and one that more resembles a desert graveyard. With each returning trip to the Abacos we have seen the changes both on land and below the surface. On Great Guana Cay we remember anchoring in Bakers Bay by ourselves, walking our dog through the ruins of the Disney cruise ship depot. Even though they were ruins, the style and motif was that of the islands, somewhat of a Robinson Crousoe theme. Thatch roof buildings that blended with the landscape. Small boardwalks and dirt paths weaved among the casuarinas and palm groves. We would pack a lunch and enjoy the shade of the woods and marvel at how fast nature could reclaim its lost property. It was also a prime location to access the reefs just around on the ocean side. A short dingy ride from the anchorage around the north end of the island lay some of the most prolific reef in the Caribbean. Magnificent staghorn coral gardens, elkhorn coral, and giant brain coral make the reef an astonishing labyrinth of underwater habitat. Coral formations that are scattered across the sugar sand bottom in thirty feet of water and reach to within feet of the surface provide an beautifully balanced ecosystem for a plethora of fish. With water so clear spotting fish on the bottom thirty feet below allows you so observe the wonders of this underwater world in incredible detail. Returning to the miles of beach that make up the shore at the Bakers Bay anchorage after a day of snorkeling the reefs we clean the fish and start a fire as the sun begins to settle in the late afternoon. As other sailors would share this paradise, potluck dinners would form on the beach of Bakers Bay. As the rum and stories flowed into the night around a small fire on the beach friendships were formed in a setting that makes you love life the way you wish everyone could. It was all so simple and free where if you took the time to find the spot you could experience nature at its best.
After years of finding these amazing anchorages and falling in love with all that is provided for us on this beautiful planet we have come to realize how rare these areas are. Not only are these magical destinations far and few between, but they are also very delicate and complex. What makes the Bakers Bay area the ideal tropical paradise with its miles of pristine beach, lush palm groves, and world class reefs are the lure for commercial development. The last time we sailed past Bakers Bay we nearly cried at the destruction of this piece of paradise. Although you can still legally anchor in Bakers Bay it is no longer a place where one would care to spend much time. With their private dock and ferry service shuttling high paying guests to their resort the once ideal anchorage has been bought out by visitors striving to experience the Bakers Bay area how it once was. It's odd how in the attempt to develop and exploit this area for the natural attractions that were the lure in the beginning they are now destroying their most valuable resource. The argument that they are bringing jobs and money to the local population is turning a blind eye to the fact that without preserving the resources already in place, they are taking jobs from the local fishermen, destroying the dive industry as the reefs are being killed from the golf course runoff, and ultimately leaving an ugly scar on the land and in the eye of the locals. Great Guana Cay where Bakers Bay is, is too small of an island to support this scale of development and the ecosystem and locals will be the ones to pay the price.







