April 8-9: Allan's Cay to Warderick Cay, The Exuma National Land and Sea Park

"I pray to be like the ocean, with soft currents, maybe waves at times. More and more, I want the consistency rather than the highs and the lows." Drew Barrymore

The stationary high that had provided fair weather and 15 to 20 knot winds on our bow for most of the trip was scheduled to continue till the week-end. Anchor was aweigh around 0830. Under blue skies and surrounded by post-card waters, we turned our little vessel southward.

Our next stop was to be a two day stay at Warderick Wells, in the northern mooring field at the Exuma Land and Sea Park. We had submitted a request for a mooring the day before and according to the park protocol we would learn our fate on an 0900 broadcast on the vhf. We listened as boats currently on moorings announced their intentions to stay or go and then sat hopefully as the list was read. Finally, we heard our name. Llyrical is on mooring 14, near the office and across from the whale skeleton on the beach. We cheered and continued the short run south to the park. As we turned into the Warderick bore, we came up behind another sailboat, Blue Goose, moving cautiously toward the park.

Blue Goose, learning that this was our first time in the park, gave us some valuable local information regarding entry into the narrow natural channel. We followed them through the bore and turned into the mooring field, taking full advantage of their experience. Our route in was confined to a channel approximately 60 ft wide. Approximately every 150 ft, a 40-60 ft. boat swung across the channel. Still, it was a fairly simple matter to follow the dark blue water banded by white sandy shoal, sometimes weaving past the bow of a moored boat; other times past their sterns. Michael and Sandra were stationed on the bow and with the help of the walkie talkies, we easily grabbed the pennant... twice... and got a bridle on the mooring ball and ourselves situated.

We got the dinghy down and the motor on it, checked in at the office, and were free for the rest of the day as well as the next to swim, snorkel, hike, have next-door neighbors for cocktails or just relax in one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. The entire crew had a blast.

Murphy was confined to the beaches, but she did not mind. She LOVED her thrice-daily dink rides into shore to do her business. She and I chose a long white sand beach next to a shallow creek that ran through mangroves all the way across the island at high tide. We motored close then I paddled up onto the uncovered white sandbar. Murphy celebrated our arrival by launching herself out of the dink into the shallow and ran crazily in circles in and out of the shallow water, occasionally stopping to sniff a plant or paw daintily at a rock just under the surface of the water. While I explained to her that she was not allowed to hunt the curly tailed lizards, she still thought they must be fair game. After her run, she was well tired out and when she completed her business we returned to the dink, sandy and wet, where she would just as exuberantly launch herself into the bow and wait for me to get back to deeper water to lower the motor and return to Llyrical. She took her place up on the bow as we putted along, leaning out, looking side to side and at the bottom, spotting a fish or a ray with a 6ft wingspan or just snapping at the spray until we were back aboard. Of course, Murphy should have felt right at home. There was a local ghost with the same name. John