1998

ISLAND DOGS

So it’s ’98 Ulla and I have completed a successful work gig in south Fl (see Starboard Tack) and have sailed through the drop dead gorgeous Bahamas to Great Inagua and we’d like to jump of for Cartagena, Columbia, which we’d stupidly bypassed in ’97. As we approached the tiny Mathewtown harbor we watched a sloop rolling it’s guts out and figured we could do better. We’d passed a big calm looking bay just noth and decided to give that a try. It was a great anchorage and there was a business on shore, we still had to clear out of the Bahamas and receive paperwork for Columbia, so we dinghied ashore and wandered into the office of the Morton Saltworks. We aske d the secretary if it was ok to leave the dinghy on their beach? “Oh sure, it can stay there forever, it’ll be fine.” “How far to Mathewtown?” we asked “About 5 mi” came her reply “Ok thanks” and headed for the door. “Wait where are you going?” she inquired “Why we’ll just walk to town” we replied “No you can’t do that, the dogs will get you” she said sounding serious “Oh, I think we’ll be alright” I said breezily, picturing cute little pot hounds. No you won’t, they’ll eat you” she stated unequivocally “Just wait here, someone will come along going to town and give you a ride, no one walks through the bush, it’s just not safe.” “Ok thanks” we said as we settled down to wait. I used to be a gym rat and a 5 mi walk isn’t that big a deal, but now the only exercise I get is grudgingly grinding in the odd jib sheet.

About 30 min later we got a ride in a pickup with a Coast Guard helicopter pilot, part of the drug interdiction stationed in the Bahamas. As we drove past miles of salt flats he chatted amiably about life in the Bahamas and asked us about the cruising life. Right about then we heard this howling, barking doesn’t even start to describe it, this was the soundtrack to a Transylvania movie. “Better roll up your window” says the Coastie winding his up. Just then a pack of something awful broke out of the scrub and started hurling themselves at a pickup truck doing about 15 – 20 mph. “Goddam things, guess we’ll have to start shooting them again” he said laconically. They were huge, looked like someone had cross bred Shepherds, Dobermans, Rotweillers and something out of your nightmares and they were attacking a moving truck. Ulla and I looked at each other in horror “We were going to walk to Mathewtown” I stammered “Oh hell, you’d have never made it, they would’ve hunted you down and eaten you” he drawled cheerfully “You’d ‘ve been the first warm meat they’d’ve seen in a while, they’ve eaten all the goats and I imagine they get tired of iguana. They’re too smart to come into town or to Morton’s, but here in the scrub bush, well, they just plain own it” After a while the pack gave up, we rolled down the windows and talked about these creatures from hell came to be there “No one really knows this seems to be the only island with this problem, not too many people live here, it’s a bit remote” “Yeah, I’ll say” I thought to myself.

The checkout went with typical Bahamian courtesy and we did a last minute provisioning for veggies and other perishables. Pretty soon we found ourselves waiting on the road to hitchhike back to the saltworks. But not too far out of town, sort of like, before the last buildings and I can’t remember begrudging the wait the least bit. George and Thalia

“If I’m lyin’…”