pt at large

Peace and Plenty Beach Inn, The Bahamas

Peace and Plenty Beach Inn
Queen's Highway, Georgetown, Great Exuma Island, Bahamas
(a mere 1758 miles south of Boston)
February 14, 2006

A flip-flop marinated in Coppertone might have tasted good in this little piece of Paradise. The brilliant aquamarine water of Elizabeth Harbor in Georgetown was frosted with dainty whitecaps in the brisk southeast breeze. The Blizzard of '06 had just blanketed the northeast and here sat your reviewer in a polo shirt and shorts amongst sailors, tourists, and a few locals having lunch in the dining room of the Club Peace and Plenty Beach Inn. Somewhere to the north, denizens of the northeast were seeing their breath crystallize as they huffed while they shoveled snow. I was busy spilling sand out of my beach shoes on Great Exuma Island in the Bahamas.

Embedded in Caribbean DNA is an affinity for colors most Americans haven't seen since finger painting class in kindergarten. The peach toned walls in the dining room, ceiling fans overhead, smooth white tiles underfoot, were the opening salvo of color. Lined with windows, the dining room was perched over the royal blue and yellow striped awning of a tiny poolside bar. Emerald chaise lounges encircled a pale blue mini pool and the whole terrace was bordered with a low wall of flat peach colored rock overlooking the harbor. As if this weren't assault enough on a poor Northern boy's limited winter sensibilities, the sandy ribbons of beaches on Stocking Island lay invitingly a few miles off to the west. Lunch was almost an afterthought.

Conch burgers are a local favorite. Tiny cubes of conch in a slightly piquant batter are fried to a crusty brown and served on burger buns with lettuce tomato and onion. In truth, New England fried clams have a more distinctly oceanic flavor but - all due respect to Gloucester, Manchester, Portland, and Provincetown - aren't served with a view like this. Bahamian fish and chips stood up to New England's version. Chunks of grouper, golden fried in a delicate simple batter, were moist and flaky. The chicken wings weren't appealing to look at but pronounced tasty by my dinner companions, even though the kitchen had run out of the spicy sauce that reputedly fired them up considerably. Virtually all foodstuffs arrive by boat. The savvy tourist quickly adapts to two quirks of life in the Bahamas: island time and "we ran out of that."

The range of the Bahama's water color makes you wonder what planet you're on. The word paradise often comes to mind. There are certainly vistas in my native New England that inspire awe but none of them can match the sight of Caribbean beaches in mid-February.

pt at large spent five idyllic days relaxing with good friends on a small island east of Georgetown, with only two trips into town to reconnoiter and get a feel for the culture, history, and the native and adopted residents of the island. I’m already looking ahead to next February when I hope to be invited back to visit my friends on Elizabeth Island, a ten-minute boat ride from Georgetown, and one light year away from a New England winter.

www.peaceandplenty.com

Fish Story

SSSSSSSSZZZZZZZZ…the sharp  metallic mechanical whirring of a fishing reel being unspooled by a big fish pierced the afternoon air. “Fish on the line!” shouted skipper Paul Wagner. “

We had been cruising right on the edge of the soundings line, the border between depths a marine depth sounder can accurately record and the gorgeous blue water over the underwater canyons too deep to record on the depth sounder.

Marine paradise, two miles off Great Exuma on the southeast end of the Bahama Islands. A dozen brilliant shades of water from blue to green, sandy beaches, warm trade winds kissing my bare shoulders, clean salt air blowing through my hair. New Englanders are rendered speechless with sights and sensations like this. We’d been trolling in the deepest blue water for about an hour and a half.The hope of fresh fish for dinner was fading. But disappointment is easy to absorb in paradise. The music of that steely rachet spooling from the fishing reel put the idea of fish back on the front burner.

Blue water was foaming from the thrust of the 150 HP outboard on the 21 foot center console Alcar fishing boat. The rod bent and whipped. Whatever was on the line was in full flight mode.

Command structure ensued.

“Take the helm and throttle down!”
“Reel in the other line!”

The captain began to reel in, pause, tug the rod, reel in again, pull his shoulders back and tug the rod in from his perch on the stern deck. Four minutes later the black mackeral-like markings of a thirty inch wahoo were within sight.

“Open the fish box!”, the captain shouted as he gave a final heave and landed the writhing fish into the fish box in the stern, slamming it shut as soon as the line was cut.

Recipes* for a fresh wahoo dinner began in earnest.

*The winner:filet of wahoo, rubbed rubbed with salt, T hot chili oil, lemon juice. Marinate for couple hours, served with salsa of avocado, lg tomato,half onion, cilantro,  juice of one lemon. salt and pepper.