Road Trip!

 There are several of us sitting at West End Grand Bahama waiting for good weather to cross the Gulf Stream to Florida. Every now and again it looks good, like perhaps this last Friday. We all woke up early and looked over the weather with our VHF radios on. The stream looked fine, the wind looked good as well. But the radar for the Southern crossing from Miami to Bimini was all lit up, and it looked like it was moving North. Once reviewing that it wasn't long before we all shut off the radios and went back to bed. No one wanted to chance an encounter with severe thunderstorms in the open water.
 Later on we all realized we should have gone because it all stayed East of our lines of travel but as they say hind sight is a clear view of your own butt in public. It's also 20-20. With emotions running low and energy levels faltering due to poor sleep habits caused by the stress of the crossing, it was decided.
 ROAD TRIP!
 Me, being the easily swayed gullible fool (yet subsequently knighted) volunteered to rent a van and cart as many as could fit into it to Lucaya. I was only interested in going to Lucaya and that is the way I presented it to the folks sitting around the table at happy hour. Everyone agreed that was a good idea and that splitting the cost of travel was appropriate. So the next morning I rented the ride.
 We worked with Eric who is recommended by Old Bamaha Bay and he delivered us a van in great condition. It all worked, the A.C. was strong, the tires good and it was ready to roll. So we all piled in. I had five brave souls in my hands that were totally unaware of what I had done as a teenager in cars. They did however know an idiot drove his boat over us on Great South Bay N.Y., so apparently they had thick skin, were forgiving, or, had several transgressions in the automotive field that were on par or surpassed my antics dulling their senses.
 Anyway, we had about 9/16 of a tank of gasoline in the van when we pulled out. I had my cell phone and Glenn had his Ipad. What could go wrong? Pulling into Lucaya we stopped at the Market where all tourists of Grand Bahama pay homage. We walked around looking at the wares and past the conch fritter stand that Judy wanted to engage. Having sampled these in the past I discouraged the purchase and we went straight to the important matter of locating cheap booze. Having located this on the marina side of the Market, we loaded up and wound our way back to the van passing all sorts of T-shirt and craft type stores. Along the way it was decided that we were going to proceed past the Market for lunch to Bahama John's which is supposedly located nearby near the Bahamas National Trust Park which was just after the bridge over the canal. Deb had read reviews and found all were positive so it looked like a good mark. Foot on the pedal, hands on the wheel having loaded up the field trip I went off not remembering where we were or any of the driving I had done in weeks past down here. But with Deb's guidance we found ourselves (note I am sharing blame now) headed East out of Lucaya on our way to the lightly populated outback area of Grand Bahama.
 We paused while on the bridge over the Grand Lucayan Canal which has a vertical clearance for boats of 26 feet and looked over the turquoise water in both directions. Deb and I reflected on time we drove freedom through a brush fire for a bit and we moved on telling folks with us about how a little more down the road we wondered if we were going to be able to return because we had to drive the car past a brush fire near the road. I think it was at this point the outback environment, less than a 1/2 tank of fuel and our stories all combined in Stu's head because he asked, "So are you going to take us out here, dump us and take our money? Because all I have is 70 bucks and you can have it if you let me out now". Ok, I wore through that thick skin I assumed they all had. Not really. It was said in jest. I'm absolutely sure of it. I think. Anyway we were all laughing and it wasn't long before we were upon the park maintained by the Bahamas National Trust. I asked if we should stop and Deb suggested that the rib shack was close so we continued on. Deb said it was only a couple or three miles more. Stu is looking over my shoulder at the gas regularly now, I am giving Deb the evil eye because I did not want a long drive, the restaurant was new to us and everyone is wondering why they committed to sharing the expense of the van.

 I have to admit the years with me have prepared Deb for this experience well. Many remarks with regard to our predicament were articulated in a random fire, no, gatlen gun fashion. The quips started and they were relentless. I was no help because I was worried that I had led all of these people into this deal and had (ok only an ounce) concern for how it would work out for them. In reflection though what else were they going to do but sit on the boat (thanks for the absolution Glenn!). A sample of the remarks were all based on how long it took to get there and then find it closed for various reasons that included profiling, day of the week, how the owner felt, and the ability to find product out here.
 But we pressed on passing gas stations, an occasional establishment offering cold beverages, and miles of landscape that was not the least bit habitable or friendly to a 6 pack of people heading into no where. In fact I asked Glen who had the Ipad, "so Glen you hooked up"? "Yeah". "So where we going?" He said, "It looks like we are going into nowhere".
 With the Gatlen gun aimed at Deb and I since the gas was running lower and we passed gas stations, we slowed down a bit we arrived in High Rock where I saw a police station and BTC office. I pulled in and both were shut. Across the street was a clinic with a car in the lot so I walked in as another parked. Even though someone in that car was most likely infected with a highly contagious form of flesh eating bacteria I went into the empty clinic and knocked on the window. A young boy comes out and says wait. I indicate ok and the "flesh eaten" victims walk in. I look them over helplessly and consider they may be ok and ask if they know where Bahama John's is and she says oh, that place? It's out in Pelican Point, you cannot miss it. She was certain and confident. A good Bahamiam lady bringing her kid in for something. So I walk back to the van which is still running and sitting there. I consider that a good sign because they did not mutiny and leave Debbie in the police lot on the ground and drive off after running her over.
 I get in, and say it looks like Pelican point (almost to the end of East End Grand Bahama now) and the Gatlen gun starts spinning again. We're all pretty resolved to the notion that about a 1/4+ tank of gas left means turn around and we are not there yet. So we all pressed on. We had sincere reservations, but we pressed on. Deb got some ugly stares from me because remember, I did not want to pass Lucaya and we were well beyond that now.
 So we arrive in Pelican point and slow down. There's nothing there but houses. We have no options and continue on slowly, in a very depressed state of mind, to find a small sign pointing to a shack on the beach. It's Bahama John's!! So we have arrived. Upon looking at the place I was a bit set back on my heels because while there were cars there, we did not know if they were still in use, or abandoned by people that had eaten and died. But in we went.
 We were promptly greeted by Bahama John who stands as tall as I do but has all of his weight shows extremely well. When we shook hands it took effort to keep my arm from coming out of its socket. He went on to say I was well fertilized. I was going to say I also fertilize well but Deb was behind me and being the driver I was not going to have the advantage of alcohol to dull the pain if I opened my mouth.
  No one else was seated so we grabbed a table large enough for all of us. It was freshly wiped by the staff and the rag was clean containing some bleach that was obvious due to the smell. A good sign I thought. John goes on to make sure the welcome is adequately expressed in a booming voice that has positive tones and puts the mind at ease. He tries to ask a couple of questions about everyone so that he learns something about his customer base. He also talks about how long the trip is out to his place and how he has fallen asleep at the wheel since he drives from Freeport every day. And then he asks, knowing I was the driver, "So did you think he was taking you out here to rob you and dump your bodies?".
 Everyone looked at Stu (and me). The food came out in short order and it was without a doubt one of the best meals I've had in the Bahamas. So if you are looking for barbecue over here, talk to the man. He has it figured out. The beach here is also special and stretches quite a ways so walking the beach either before or after a meal is a good opportunity.
 Back at West End we thought about the next couple of days, and the weather. Stu stuck his nose out into the stream on Sunday and was immediately rejected. We all lent him quite a bit of respect due to the experience level he had judging the water.
 Eventually on this past Monday the water laid down and we all crossed over to the St. Lucie inlet. Using this inlet saved us a day on the ICW going North to the canal across Florida. While we all had some apprehension about the inlet, it proved to be easily navigated and we arrived at the Sunset Bay Marina for a rest stop on our way West.