March 6: Ferry to Nassau

Sadly, we had to leave Small Hope Bay Lodge today. In hopes of finding some pelagic birds, we decided to take the Bahama Fast Ferry from Fresh Creek. Friday is ferry day at the Lighthouse Marina, and the dock was bustling with cargo being forklifted off the boat and onto trucks. We were among the few passengers and had the entire top deck to ourselves; from that vantage point, we saw what was probably that first Bahama Oriole calling from the same perch as a few days before. We were also eye level with Royal Terns flying past as we left the dock.

The turquoise water of the shallows quickly gave way to the deep blue waters of the Tongue of the Ocean, an oceanic trench between Andros and New Providence Islands that is up to 6,600 feet deep. Out in the deep water, we saw no birds, but we did see several flying fish, which thrilled me as they buzzed for many yards over the waves below.

Pulling into Nassau, we approached the old lighthouse, on one side of which you can see the towers of Atlantis Resort & Casino on Paradise Island, and on the other, several multi-story cruise ships. And when we land, we're down below waiting for a taxi into the city.

Flying fish--

I wonder which element

it enjoys most.

Bahama Fast Ferry awaits us in Fresh Creek

Lighthouse Marina as we leave Fresh Creek

Looking back on shallow water as we cross the Tongue of the Ocean

Entering Nassau: Atlantis on Paradise Island to the left; cruise ships to the right

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March 5: Blue Holes

Small Hope Bay Lodge's nature guide Tarran took us on a blue hole tour this morning in the nearby national park. Certain trees along the trail to Rainbow Hole were labeled, and Tarran shared with us each tree's value to bush medicine. At the hole itself, he encouraged us to take off our shoes and let the swarms of tiny gobi fish nibble our feet. We jokingly called this the spa tour. The fish tickled.

In Maidenhair Coppice, while trying to track down a Great Lizard-cuckoo, an elusive species we finally heard calling, we heard an even more elusive bird: the Key West Quail-dove. Given the density of the foliage in the coppice, I couldn't imagine how we'd actually see it. I guess our best bet would be for it to fly across the road in front of us. Its voice sounds like the moan of a distant foghorn. Unfortunately for us, a very distant foghorn. We didn't end up seeing either bird. But we enjoyed our tour, which culminated with a swim in 400-ft deep Capt. Bill's Hole.

In the afternoon I rode one of the lodge's bikes to Androsia, the batik factory started by the second wife of the lodge's founder. Meanwhile, my husband was bonefishing all morning, and learned how to scuba dive all afternoon. A little nature, a little culture, a lot of exercise in the subtropical air.

In the coppice's heat

dove's call a distant foghorn--

I'm thinking of home.

Paul fishing at Small Hope Bay Lodge

Capt. Bill's Blue Hole

Androsia Batik Factory

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March 4: Small Hope Bay Lodge, Andros

We took a taxi this morning away from the faded Lighthouse Marina, over the Fresh Creek bridge, past Hank's on the water where we had dinner the night before, past the crab statue at the center of Coakley Town, past two cemeteries and the primary school, past a few liquor stores and a Jamaican jerk chicken place, to Small Hope Bay Lodge. The ecolodge, established in 1960, is a lovely spread that specializes in scuba-diving and bonefishing, with a heavy emphasis on relaxing in hammocks, hanging out on the beach, and eating well. Rooms are draped in batik fabric made at the local batik factory. Water is solar-heated. And the fully stocked bar is self-serve.

After dinner we joined the nature guide Tarran for a nocturnal walk through the mangrove marsh, listening for night birds: Yellow-crowned Night-heron, Clapper Rail. Something large and pale flew away from us soundlessly in the dark.

Sun, sea, birds, food--

when all needs are met,

the sky opens its big blue book.

Small Hope Bay Lodge

View from my hammock

Small Hope Bay Lodge

Small Hope Bay Lodge dining room

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March 3: Andros

A day of movement: fly back to Nassau, rent a car and bird around New Providence for a few hours, with stops at Harrold & Wilson National Park and Clifton Heritage National Park, then squeeze into another little plane for the 15-minute hop over to Andros. On Andros we find ourselves in a ghost town of sorts. The Lighthouse Marina was, according to all sources, an international hot spot in its day, visited by the Rat Pack, and the Duke of Windsor and Wallis Simpson. Now, thanks to some bad luck, it's owned by the government, which explains the near-empty dining room, poor wifi link, empty pool, overgrown tennis court, and shoddy furnishings. We walk down the pier, past the one yacht and two sailboats, out to the point past a wrecked ship, a faded 1892 lighthouse and cannons, and around the corner to a little beach with a dilapidated tiki bar. You can almost hear the tinkle of ice in glasses, faint laughter. The wreck was named, appropriately, "Old Glory."

The one thing this place has going for it is the Bahama Oriole, our last target endemic. And luckily for us, it's one of the first birds we find here--two, in fact--and with 300 left in the world, probably the rarest bird I'll ever see.

A few hundred left,

but the oriole only cares

that one is female.

Bahama Oriole

Lighthouse Marina

Lighthouse and waxing moon

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