As we entered Norman’s Cut on January 24th, we see Manitou and Freya anchored. We actually were very confused coming into the cut because we thought Manitou was underway but they were both sitting on the deck. We later realized, it was current causing that motion, and that they were in fact anchored. After anchoring ourselves and taking naps, we dinghied over to Freya and explored the beaches with Todd and Susan. We saw our first starfish!
About 50 years ago, Norman’s Cay was inhabited by an infamous Colombian cocaine conquistador, Carlos Ledher, known as “Crazy Carlos,” a notorious member of the Medellin Cartel, run by Pablo Escobar. Crazy Carlos came to Norman’s Cay in the 1970s and introduced himself as Joe Ledher, a land developer. His land development plan included buying as much land as possible and building an airstrip. The plan within the plan was to create a way to traffic higher quantities of Columbian cocaine to the U.S. versus the traditional method, of using human mules.
The increased air traffic garnered some attention but clever Carlos had more money than God so he paid off the Bahamian Prime Minister, Lynden Pindling, to look the other way and bought out or ran off all the landowners. Apparently, there was one man he couldn’t scare off and somehow, he remained alive, a marine biologist named Richard E. Novak, and he did everything in his power to put a stop to Ledher’s reign over Norman’s Cay. To learn more about Novak, there is a book called Turning the Tide: One Man Against the Medellin Cartel. After extreme pressure from the U.S. government, the Bahamian government had to take action which resulted in Ledher setting his cherished cocaine empire on fire. Ledher now serves a life sentence in a U.S. prison without possibility of parole. How’s that for some island history?
The history continues, about 100 yards from where we dropped anchor, a site of a C46 plane wreck, now a popular snorkel site. And you better believe after a good nights sleep we paddled over on the paddle board to check it out. We don’t have a small anchor for the paddleboard or dinghy, so we have been using my historical Fort Worth Thurber brick in a bag as a paddleboard and dinghy anchor. I knew my brick would serve a purpose on our journey.
We knew that in the coming days, a strong front would be blowing through, and we needed a more protected anchorage. We heard about Norman’s Pond, a fully protected anchorage, but the catch is that you can only get into this narrow cut into the pond at high tide when you draft 5.5ft. There is little room for error and you should not enter or exit in strong Easterlies. We took the dinghy and the depth sounder and checked it out for ourselves, in addition to checking out everything else.
While in the pond, we met Norm & Barb on Silent Flight II who agreed to let us follow them out so we could chart a path. We decided after seeing that we have three inches of wiggle room that we should go for it.
The next day, we decided to troll the fishing lure through the Exuma Sound that morning as we wait for high tide to enter the pond. When we arrived to the anchorage right outside the pond, we got on the radio to see if other boats with a similar draft would be attempting to enter. There was one other boat, named Mug Up, that asked us to take their cell phone when we go in so that it could record our track. They clearly didn’t know how inexperienced we were but we had spent several hours between the previous day and today studying our approach and track. And lucky for us, in a conversation with Mug Up, they helped us realize we had calculated our entrance an hour later than the peak of high tide.
As we entered, we saw depths of 20 feet then we made the turn and the depth quickly became 7 ft, then 6.5ft…6ft…5.8ft…5.7ft…5.6ft…at this point neither of us were breathing. It stayed like this for 40-50 feet before it came back to 9 feet. We both let out sighs of relief but were not in the clear yet; we had one more shoal to steer clear of and by the skin of our teeth we did it. We dropped anchor in about 13 feet of the clearest turquoise water we had seen to date. It was calm, it was protected, it was heavenly.
On January 27th, Blake and I decided to break out the pole spear and he would try his hand at lobster hunting and spearfishing. In case you are unaware, Blake is naturally good at most things, even things he has never tried before and this was no different. He speared us a 16-inch spiny lobster, not counting the length of those antennae. We found him underneath a coral head while snorkeling near the rocks on the east side of the pond’s entrance. Talk about feeling victorious!! You can bet, that evening, we had grilled lobster tails with Blake’s famous mashed potatoes and some sautéed spinach.
The next morning, we were up before the sun and woke up to water so still that it looked like glass. We could see our entire anchor chain lying on the white sand bottom. At first light, I was on the paddleboard ready to explore. I’m in the center of the pond, looking around and taking it all in. Thoughts enter in, like, “How is this my life right now,” and a deep gratitude settles in but Mother Nature is funny; as I look behind me, there was a shark swimming directly towards me. As it gets closer, I see it’s only about four feet long and I assume it’s just curious and not attempting to attack or eat something that is 11’6”. It lingers for a few seconds then swims away. Did I feel scared when I saw that fin beelining towards me, absolutely. My brain still associates sharks with death…I’m working on it.
I paddle onward and see a six-foot nurse shark resting by a coral head. You know, I swear I was sending out turtle vibes but must have been sending shark vibes because when Blake went out, he saw zero sharks and a couple of turtles. It’s funny because the day before, I was feeling really afraid when snorkeling; so afraid that I almost didn’t snorkel with Blake which would have resulted in not seeing him spear his first lobster. I prayed that God ease me into “it” with sharks…ask and you shall receive.
The wind picked up significantly the next day; we heard on the VHF that it was gusting around 38 knots. We had planned to ride bikes along the island but we had a flat and no patch kit. Blake got on the radio and asked if anyone had a patch kit, and Mug Up had one. Blake was ready to hop in the dinghy and get it but the winds were outrageous so we stayed in and made mixed berry pudding, played games, and at the peak of entertaining ourselves, I drew faces on my toes and “watched” Blake chart our next route. That afternoon we picked up the patch kit and patched it up on the beach. Within 30 minutes, flat again. Blake tried duct tape…flat again. There would not be bike riding any time soon.
During Blake’s planning, we decided that we would leave at high tide, which would be at 5:30pm on Sunday, January 30th, giving us enough light to navigate our way out. Our other option was 6:00am which would not provide any light. We would drop anchor just outside of the pond because there were too many shoals to navigate this area at night. We hoisted the dinghy on deck and did some laundry and reorganizing the cockpit lazarettes to pass the time.
We pulled anchor at 5:10pm and began to follow our track out. This time I was at the helm and Blake was at the bow with the Navionics chart, giving directions. We have headsets, which are called “marriage savers,” so he doesn’t have to yell. Blake would be more likely to run back and forth before he ever yelled anyway, so these are must have for us.
We made it past the first shoal unscathed; we were in the stretch of depths that said 5.6 where we don’t breathe until we are out. There was a marker and we made it past the marker but we were too far inward to make our final turn and if Josephine had wings, she would have taken off because the bow launched upwards and we were in the ground. Luckily it was soft sand and we were able to reverse, correct the turn, and make our way out of Norman’s Pond. We dropped anchor and I sat down below, with my legs still trembling. Running aground is scary; I don’t care who you are.