SHROUD CAY

After six days of lazy living in the comfort and security of Highbourne Cay, the much anticipated cold front passed us by and we were finally able to head southward once again. The previous evening we met with fellow cruisers for an informal potluck dinner and promised to keep in touch and look out for each other at various anchorages along the way.

The sun was shining, winds were light and the sea a ruffled blue as we headed off on the three hour passage to Shroud Cay. All was going well and we had relaxed our vigilance—Vince had plotted our course along well established routes and nothing should be of major concern. Right? Wrong! As we passed “Normans Stake” and altered direction, we were suddenly alarmed to see large black coral heads on both the port and starboard sides of the boat as we zipped along at 6 knots! I freaked out—realizing that we were cruising through a potential “minefield” but Vince, calm and unruffled as usual, was eventually able to turn the boat around and thread us “back out” without incident. Although I had felt that we were in imminent danger, Vince wasn’t so sure. The water is so clear here that it’s impossible to judge depths. The corals we saw could’ve been just beneath the surface, or many feet down. We’ll never know. Hopefully with more experience sailing in these waters our judgment will improve. But until that happens we’ll always try to err on the side of caution.

Our anchorage at Shroud was delightful. A line of large, substantial mooring balls was strung out just off the beach and it was comforting to see several boats already tied off and bobbing in the water. To the north and south of the moorings, a scattering of smaller islands to some extent broke the effects of wind and water and we felt safe and sheltered in this lovely place.

Shroud Cay is the first island in the “Exuma Cays Land and Sea Park.” It is unique in that it offers a combination of sugar white beaches, rocky shoreline and a central tidal swamp forest of mangroves teeming with sea life. A system of creeks thread their way from one side of the island to the other and act as breeding grounds and nurseries for many protected marine creatures. These creeks can only be explored by dinghy and must be entered on a rising tide as the waters are very shallow and become un-navigable at low tide when exposed sandbars block much of the way. Unfortunately we had arrived at Shroud just after low tide and though the creek waters were rising, it wasn’t quite enough to allow our dinghy to motor through without impediment. But we thought we’d give it a shot anyway. We headed off for the northernmost creek just before 3pm. The sun had passed its zenith and we would only be able to travel in one direction for an hour. At 4:00pm we’d have to turn back no matter what or risk hitting coral heads on the way back to the boat as the suns glare off the water when heading west in late afternoon makes it impossible to see beneath the surface of the sea.

As we entered the little creek, the shallow waters ahead were tinted in gorgeous hues of green, blue and beige. The banks of the stream were lined with mangroves—some in flower and all with twisting gnarled roots exposed above the waterline. On one woody stem I actually saw a pretty pink conch attached and feeding. When we came across the first white sandbar blocking most of the stream, we climbed out of the dinghy and dragged it along behind us. The knee-deep water was bath-tub warm and the sand soft beneath our feet. Once into deeper depths we climbed back in, started up the motor and continued on along the winding circuitous route towards the Atlantic side of the island. Once there we knew we’d find a pretty beach strewn with shells.

A sailor named Ernest Scholtes had found this special place at the end of the creek back in the 60’s and, over the years lived a “Robinson Crusoe” type existence there in a crude dwelling constructed of indigenous materials and things found while beachcombing. He called his creation “Camp Driftwood” and apparently it is a place that must be seen to be believed. After his death it became a destination of pilgrimage for other sailors—each of whom try to leave some token of value behind to add to the ambience of the camp after making their way there and imagining what life for Scholtes must have been like, living alone as a hermit for so many years.

We had almost reached the end of the creek when we realized it was approaching 4:00pm Even if we were able to beach the dinghy within the next 5 or 10 minutes there would still not be enough time to find the path leading to Camp Driftwood, climb the hill to the dwelling and spend the half hour needed to fully explore and enjoy the surroundings. And so we headed back. And not a moment too soon. The sun had turned much of the oceans surface to silver and, as we traveled the last mile back to the boat it became increasingly difficult to pick out the corals we knew were hidden beneath the surface of the water. Should we hit a patch and damage dinghy or motor it could mean being carried out to sea on tidal currents or, at the very least, being stranded on a deserted island.

We were sorry not to have been able to make our own pilgrimage to Camp Driftwood this time round but we’ll be sure to try again on the return journey later in the spring. Nevertheless we spent a wonderful few hours exploring the coastline and a little of the interior of Shroud Cay and after coffee in the cockpit at sunset, enjoyed a comfortable night in this beautiful anchorage.