Day 9 On to St Georges Cay.

On the seventh day at sea we turned around and started making our way back to San Pedro. Our plan was to sail north to St Georges Cay where we would spend the night before returning to Cay Caulker and then to drop off the boat.

After an hour sailing we passed the Germania Nova.

Perhaps it was because I was tired, or malnourished, or because I was beginning to understand the limits of our pudgy catamaran but I fell in love with this boat. I looked it up later and found a bunch of information.

It flew flags for Belize and Germany. A flag with frigate bird topped one mast and a red and yellow flag topped the other. The sides were decorated in filigree and the deck curled up at the bow and stern but the sides ran straight. The wood was polished teak and it was covered in brass fittings. They had a sunshade over the stern, a rowboat up front, and a dingy on the side. I've never been so envious.

While we admired the boat we blundered into shallow water and had to make a sharp turn. Our lure sank and broke off on the reef.

We watched the clouds stretch overhead and the islands we left behind dwindled to shimmering dots floating over the horizon before they disappeared.

We saw a few large fish (barracuda?) leaping out of the water as though they were galloping away on the surface. We surprised a sleeping turtle and it jerked and dove down before we came along side.

Maneuvering through the narrows to reach the East side of St Georges Cay was stressful. The gps plotted an inaccurate zig zag course between the islands. We had to stop a few times as the depth changed from 6 feet to less than 2. The map didn't seem to correspond to the shape of the land around us and for a while we wondered if we were lost.

It was impossible to get lost of course. We had gps and computer maps. We were sailing seas that had been explored for hundreds of years. It would have been nice to get a little lost. After another half hour of following the light and then dark patches of sea water we broke through the reef and turned towards the island.

We drove the boat into the wind to the eastern reef and set anchor for snorkeling. The water was dark and choppy in the stiff breeze and we didn't realize we were in the wrong place until we took the dingy out and dropped into the water. Where the map said there was a coral reef we found only sand and shattered coral.

After adjusting my snorkel and mask I dropped backwards into the water and when I turned to get my bearings I saw a barracuda a meter away hanging just below the surface. Sadly, this was the highlight of our trip and we returned to the catamaran to drop anchor off St Georges Cay.

St Georges Cay was possibly the most beautiful of the islands we saw but it looked abandoned. Large houses painted bright pastel colors lined the beach but their windows and doors were boarded shut and the sand was cluttered with sea wrack. The guide book said hurricane Hattie split this island in three places in the 60's. They repaired a couple breaks but left the island split in two.

St Georges Cay served as the main settlement and informal capital of the British Colony from 1650 to 1784 when the Spanish attacked and drove them out. The British returned and they fought a huge battle in 1789 and drove them out again. The event is commemorated with a canon on the beach pointing out to sea.

We packed our phones, cameras, and wallets into a single dry bag for the dingy ride out to the island. Bojana dropped the bag onto the plastic thwart in the bottom of the dingy with a loud thunk and we all cried out in sympathetic pain.

We were the only ship moored outside the island and the only dingy tied off at the dock. We walked to the north side and found a bunch of people playing volleyball and singing. They wore matching shirts, "Happy Birthday sweet 16 Tamara" and had arrived together on a large boat for the party. Farther north the island curved around and we found the ruined remains of several homes that had been knocked down by the hurricane.

Our short week at sea had given us sea legs and we all felt a little unsteady on solid ground but Ricky was the worst. His ear canal had swollen shut and he stumbled around like a zombie on the pain medication. We were also almost out of food having finished the last of our fruit with rice and beans. Even the hot sauce was gone. As we stumbled down the empty beach we spoke of tortilla chips and fish and I had obscene fantasies about the cinnamon rolls we bought on Cay Caulker.

The abandoned British army camp was boarded up and neglected and most of the houses on the cay were locked tight and up for sale. They were only a few feet above sea level and exposed on the East side of the island. I wondered how long they would last.

At least the bar was open. It was an opulent building constructed of mahogany and teak with high ceilings. The grounds were raked and clean and it had an excellent view of the sea. It was empty except for the young bartender.

We asked him if they had fish and he said they had none. We asked for ice but he had none to sell. They served food but only if we'd made a reservation a day in advance. The blender was broken so he couldn't make mixed drinks. He had no tortilla chips. So we had beers.

Despite it's lack of food or company the bar was pretty awesome. There was a nice selection of books on the counter and in shelves in the back and as we drank I leafed through the best fish reference book I'd ever seen. There were board games, photo albums, and lots of stuff to play with. It was a bar I could hang out in.

Ricky asked the bartender if he had any medicine for ear infections and he said they just used alcohol and vinegar and would prepare some for him. He went into the back and returned a while later with a small bottle and Ricky and Bojana went out onto the steps to try to get some into his swollen ear hole.

We had to idle the dingy back to the boat to keep the water from splashing over the front. That evening we ate rice and beans and eggs with cheese and crackers. Afterwards we prepared mixed drinks but Bojana didn't want Ricky drinking on his pain medication and took his scotch away.

I used another one of Kim's magical laundry detergent packets and soaked my shoes and shorts to try to get the smell out. My shoes were really bad and when the detergent didn't help, I sat down with a bar of our ubiquitous rose soap and rubbed it into the treads and then tied them off with a rope and left them floating in the sea overnight.

The smell was better in the morning but the harsh soap ate through the skin on my feet and even months later, back in Monterey, the skin on my feet peels when I wear my sandals for any extended period. The soap also dissolved the skin on my hands.

We were a little worried about our exposure on the east side of the island but there were no storms and the anchor held.