I Loved Allen's Pensacola

There are so many different kinds of cruisers, we met friends the first year we were out, who run from marina to marina, exploring the Caribbean and when they need a break hop onto a cruise ship or relax in a resort. We have friends who yearly quickly slip along to George Town, enjoying the commaradiery that a ton of cruisers share. We have friends who have never touched George Town, like a plague, ferreting out the most remote anchorages they can find. Cruisers who have circumnavigated the world, one spot cruisers, pokey cruisers, zippy cruisers, part time cruisers and full time cruisers. We have friends that sail, motor sail, never raise a sail. Some have yachts, some boats, some haven't  got two nickels to rub together, but all, have a sense of adventure. I’m not sure where we fit in, probably a little of each, sans the circumnavigating, our hearts maybe there, but DevOcean just isn’t the right fit.  Panama maybe…

This week though, I really felt like I fit into a mold. I like Allen Pensacola, ok who am I kidding, I love Allen Pensacola Cay. What is there you ask, nothing and everything. Is it the place that makes the people stop or the people that stop, that make the place?

Allen Pensacola Cay is about three miles long, is located in the Northern Abacos and runs northwest to southeast. On the Ocean side there are long lovely beaches with soft sand that feels like corn starch tucked between out croppings. The bank side is scattered with numerous small secluded beaches. The cay is basically divided by mangroves. When the tide is low you can explore for hours. When the tide is high and the winds are blowing from the NE the power of the ocean is amazing. I know this is a popular spot, the evidence, left behind, by people here tells me that, but today, right now with just a handful of boats in the anchorage it feels like its all ours. 

We had been here a few nights when we were poking around at dusk and bumped into a couple that make Allen Cay pretty much their home away from home, except for two months a year. They talked with such excitement about the paths they and others had cut across the local cays, the hours and hours they had spent exploring, fishing the reefs, taking pictures with their drone, friends they made. Excitedly Betty Sue offered to teach me how to clean conk, Bill said he would take us exploring. 

Bill took us out poking around on the reef, within no time we had to stop fishing as we had more than enough lobster for dinner for our boat, theirs and another. And I know he did’t show me his sweet spot wink, wink. Bill, who I now affectionately refer to as the iron lung took us conk diving. Really, he snorkeled, we watched. Bill easily slips 20+ feet and swims along the bottom gathering conk, poking in the reefs, surfacing and passing his haul to his wife. Did I tell you he was 66? I think I could have followed him in the water for hours, except I watched my first black tipped shark swim by and I was done. Marc say’s how big was it? I don’t frigin know, it was just too big for me. 

It was the first calm night we have had in a while so after a fantastic dinner Marc and I sat on our bow enjoying the many stars, we stuck a light over board to see what was around and saw baby sting rays, a small squid and crabs squiring. 

The next day, the most calm beautiful day in weeks, the three boats that seem to belong in the anchorage were gone, parked out in the main channel, far away from the cay, odd. Odd until dusk fell and a million pesky, devilishly hunting no seeums attacked. Our screens couldn’t even keep them at bay. 

So now what to do? I’m in heaven, I found a mentor. Seriously, I want to be the pesky kid and follow these guys everywhere.  But my love, my sailor, says its going to be a great sail tomorrow to Green Turtle Cay, the waters low and another blow is coming. He says I can always come back.  

Conk cleaning 1O1, Betty Sue made it look easy, when she cut that muscle the conk slid out, me not so much. That poor conch didn’t have a chance. I ended up bashing and bashing covered in conk slime. Yuck, but it sure tastes good.