CONCH: A ROYAL GIFT FROM THE SEA
By Jim Kerr
Abaco Life Editor

It doesn’t soar through the air like an eagle, race over the terrain like a graceful gazelle or roar like a lion, but in Abaco, the Conch is King. Or at least Queen.

Well before Columbus arrived in the Bahamas, the native Lucayan Indians used the Queen Conch for food, tools, decoration, building material and jewelry, and 500 years later the current natives continue the process. Not only do folks here consume prodigious quantities of conch salad, conch fritters, conch burgers and cracked conch, they also make and wear conch jewelry, landscape and decorate their homes with conch shells, create conch art and sell conch souvenirs. In fact, nothing in the Bahamas or Abaco has stood the test of time quite like the slow-moving, algae-eating, easy-to-catch, hard-to-clean mollusk shellfish known as the conch.

They’ve been around these parts for 65 million years. Officially known as Strombus Gigas, Queen Conch (pronounced KONK) can be found from Brazil northward through the West Indies, Florida Keys and as far north as Bermuda. But because they have been vastly depleted by large populations in the Caribbean and the Americas, they now exist in large numbers only in the Bahamas, where they are not only a traditional food staple, but a national symbol.

At his stand adjacent to Harbour View Marina in Marsh Harbour, George “Show Bow” Wilmore slices and dices with a smile, chopping the moist white meat of the Queen Conch and mixing it with sour orange, lime, peppers, onion, tomato and salt. A line of hungry customers often forms, usually around mid-morning, their appetites further stimulated by Show Bow’s showmanship.

“The secret’s in the ingredients,” says Show Bow. “Some use cabbage or cucumber, but not me. I go strictly by tradition.”

He is one of four entrepeneurs in Marsh Harbour, Dundas Town and Murphy Town who “basically fix fresh conch salad in front of your eyes,” he says. “They got their customers and I got mine.”

in fact, his closest competitor is just down the street in front of Abaco Market on Queen Elizabeth Drive. Bruce “Froggie” McIntosh and his wife, Elva, set up their own program almost daily. Froggie perches on a stool in the back of his pickup, a slicing board in front and a rapidly slicing knife flashing down on his own particular recipe for conch salad. Soon, he says, Elva and he will be opening a small cabana-type resort and restaurant off Forest Drive called “Conch Paradise” where they will continue to serve up conch salad as well as drinks.

There is money to be made in the conch salad business, but it takes a special kind of person to put up with the work. Vendors like Show Bow and Froggie get up before dawn to go conching along the sandy and grassy bottom in water ten to 30 feet deep. They stock and maintain “conch crawls” with 500 to 600 conchs and, on a good day, they often use 50 or 60 conch to make 100 cups of conch salad, selling it at $5 to $6 a cup.

Once you have found them, catching conch and keeping them is easy. Using a muscular foot, the Queen Conch literally moves at a snail’s pace. The long, narrow foot has a horny, hook-shaped operculum on the end which the conch uses to propell itself in the sand. She had her origins there as a gelatinous strand of eggs wrapped around and around until it formed a banana-shaped mass. For about a month after hatching as an embryo, the conch floated as a microscopic larva until sinking forever to the bottom, buried for protection in the sand and feeding only at night on algae. The flaring outer lip that distinguishes a mature conch doesn’t even begin to build until the creature is two years old, and it takes about four years for the conch to reach a full grown stature of eight to 12 inches with a weight of up to five pounds. Taking conch that does not have a full lip, no matter how large the shell base, is frowned upon, since that depletes the population. Free diving is also the only legal way to gather them.

The Queen Conch, which is the only type eaten in the Bahamas, is easily corraled. Holes are made in the shell lip and several conch are strung together. When an old dock was pulled up for replacement a few years back in Hope Town, workers found seven conch tied together and fastened to a piling. They had been forgotten by a fisherman seven years earlier, but were doing just fine, thank you.

But while catching and keeping them is one thing, cleaning and preparing conch is another. Separating the animal from its home correctly, with a minimum of mess, is an island art form. Abaco fishermen like Show Bow and Froggie pride themselves in how fast they can accomplish this task, which requires a hammer, screw driver, and a thin, very sharp knife. With the shell held opening down and spire inward, a hole is made with the hammer and screwdriver on the spire of the shell between the second and third row of horny nodes. This is known as “cracking” or “knocking.” The knife is then inserted in the hole and the tendon is cut so the animal can be pulled out by the operculum, a step called “jooking.” Finally, the conch is cleaned, a tricky, messy procedure appropriately known as “slopping.”

An expert can crack, jook and slop 25 conch in under ten minutes. People like Show Bow and Froggie are usually so fast that watching them reveals little about technique. Amateurs often find the job a sticky, slimy mess. A black mucuous substance that emerges with the conch frequently gets all over your boat, your clothes or both. It is next to impossible to get off, except with lime and lemon juice combined with vinegar.

The shell is another matter. Cleaned up with commercial bleach, small amounts of muriatic acid or simply left to bleach naturally in the sun, they are bright pink, yellow and peach coloured. Found in abundance near almost any dock or bought from numerous vendors, conch shells adorn mantles, shelves, tables and porches of homes around the world. Many Abaconians use them to decorate planters and walls. One man created a conch shell water fountain on his private island, while Hope Town Hideaways Resort made a glimmering garden wall.

They are also the subject for paintings, and artisans fashion the shell into jewelry, carving from the pink twirl just inside the shell, just as they did centuries ago. Nor have conch pearls lost their value over the years. Depending on the shape, colour and size, they can fetch as much as $1,000. As rare as South Pacific pearls, they cannot be cultured like their oyster counterparts, having formed from a microorganism rather than a grain of irritating sand. No two are alike and colours range from white and beige to pink, red and brown. The most desirable are dark pink, and because they tend to fade in the light, they have an exotic mystique as “night only” jewels. Smooth and sometimes shiny, the best are set by jewelers and artisans with diamonds, rubies and gold in pendants, rings and earrings. A lucky fisherman who is looking for them can make hundreds of extra dollars, but they are rarely found in the routine, expeditious cleaning process. You are more likely to bite into one in your conch salad.

Better yet, just enjoy your meal. Conch is still a major food source in the Bahamas where an estimated half million pounds are consumed each year. Properly prepared, raw or cooked, the meat is tasty and full of nutrients and vitamins. It has a firm, chewy texture, especially raw in salads. Local men are sometimes fond of slurping down a long, transparent rod or tube known as a “style” that comes from the conch’s stomach and is reputed to be a male energizer. The rest of the animal can be prepared in a dozen or more ways, usually pounded for tenderizing before cooking. Arrive early at any Abaco restaurant and you are likely to hear wooden or metal mallets pounding in the kitchen as cooks prepare cracked, stewed, battered or breaded conch dishes.

But whether it’s food, artwork, jewelry or just an inexpensive but distinctive ornament, the durable conch remains a highly visible symbol of Abaco. Long live the Queen!

BRENDAL’S PICNIC
By Jim Kerr
Abaco Life Editor

“Goombay, anyone?”

Brendal Stevens, a mischeivous grin across his ebony face, glances toward the 11 adult guests aboard his dive and snorkel boat. He doesn’t have to ask twice as plastic cups are thrust in the direction of a jug he holds filled with a potion made from Castillo Gold, coconut rum and pineapple juice. After a stimulating dive and snorkel over “The Pillars” off Manjack Cay, these people are thirsty.

The boat is less than an hour from Brendal’s dock at White Sound Harbour on Green Turtle Cay. A giant eagle ray flapped his wings in farewell as we left the harbour on this sunny summer day, and a bottlenosed dolphin followed us across the channel to Manjack. The trip is a seven-hour, combination dive, snorkel and picnic that Brendal operates every week. The Pillars are thick coral fingers that tower 35 feet from the sandy bottom. Below we find purple sea fans waving from thick coral heads and a ridge that shelters an incalcuable assortment of colourful fish. A midsize reef shark slides by, paying us no mind, and “Junkanoo,” a large black grouper eyes us from a few feet away.

Back in the boat, goombay in hand, Brendal deftly cleans a couple of conch, giving his guests an opportunity to make a mess of things by trying it themselves. He cuts up grouper filet and marinates it with Real Lemon juice, lemon pepper, hot sauce and salad dressing in a pink, plastic bucket. We anchor halfway to Manjack beach and ten minutes later one of our boater guests has two hogfish and a mutton snapper on a spear from a Hawaiian sling which will be used later for our special close encounter with several southern stingrays. For now, however, the purpose of the speared fish is a mystery.

A sliver of white, crescent beach runs for a mile or so along Manjack’s lee side where Brendal ties the boat to a private dock. We gather fire wood and soon flames and sticks are crackling under a big metal grill. The grouper cooks in foil-covered pans for six minutes, then sits for another two before being served. There’s also snapper in cilantro and onions, regular tossed salad and the conch salad made earlier. It’s an incredibly tasty picnic feast, served at a table in the shade of casuarinas. Our bare feet curl deliciously in the cool sand, and before us is an almost searing panorama of sun and blue sky against an aquamarine shoreline and white beach.

Even before lunch, we couldn’t help notice we had company in the clear, shallow water off the beach. A nurse shark and his cousin, a large, black stingray, glided inches from the shoreline as we unloaded the boat. Now it was the stingray’s turn for lunch.

With cut up chunks of the hogfish and muttonfish caught earlier, Brendal coaxes us into ankle-deep water offshore. Soon there are not one, but four large stingrays circling our feet. Warily, we hold pieces of raw fish in the upturned and submerged palm of our hand. The jet black stingrays, their brown eyes watching us from the top of their head, swim over and gently take the food in an invisible mouth underneath their bodies. Their soft, satiny wings brush lightly against our legs and ankles, an unexpected but pleasurable sensation. Their long tail, with its venomous barb, somewhat rougher in texture than the wide wings, also rubs harmlessly against our legs.

After the cautious and protective parents are satisfied there’s no danger here, two four-year-olds join in the feeding and the rare and gentle communion with these strange and fascinating creatures. It’s the highlight of the day, and something to ponder as we head back to Green Turtle.

WHERE THE BONEFISH LIVE
By Jim Kerr
Abaco Life Editor

In the past decade, Abaco has become one of the hottest bonefishing destinations in the world. Several small resorts have sprung up catering to bonefishermen, and others have happily adopted packages and other ways to accommodate enthusiasts of this sport. Along with eco-tourism, bonefishing is one of the most positive developments spotlighting Abaco’s tourist industry in recent times; a sport which not only conserves resources and highlights the environment, but also generates millions of dollars a year for Abaconians. Unlike lobster fishing, there is no closed season on bonefishing, although January through April is best. In the past 15 years, several dozen local men, most of whom once specialized in lobster fishing, have become full-time bonefishing guides, a fact which has relieved some of the pressure on the depleting lobster fishery. And while revenue from bonefishing visitors filters through myriad businesses, no individuals have benefited more in recent years than the guides themselves.

“Tourists wanted to go bonefishing,” says Marsh Harbour-based Town Williams, a lobster fisherman until about 12 years ago. “I didn’t know anything about it, but I knew where to go. I knew where the bonefish lived. The clients said ‘just take us there, and we’ll show you what to do.’”

Today he works 150 days a year as a bonefishing guide, a global business with clients from around the world who find him primarily on the Internet. There are more than 35 active bonefishing guides in Abaco, from Sandy Point to Coopers Town and beyond, and the number is growing as demand increases. They charge an average of $350 for two anglers for a full day, and $250 for a half day, which translates for most into annual gross income of more than $50,000. Like Town Williams, they may not have known much about the art of catching them, but they learned at an early age that bonefish - spooky and fast, but not much good to eat - live on the flats. The rest they learned by practice and from the experienced bonefishermen who came, including the legendary baseball great Ted Williams.

Williams and others knew that Abaco, like the rest of the Bahamas, was ideal for this kind of fishing. The silvery, almost translucent bonefish reside in water usually one to three feet deep. The name “Bahamas” comes from the Spanish term “Baja Mar,” or shallow sea. The islands are fringed by shallow banks, and while an Atlantic coastline with a barrier reef makes Abaco ideally situated for beaches, diving, snorkeling and deep sea fishing, the western side of the cays and mainland make for some of the best bonefish habitat in the world. The Marls, a series of small atolls amid shallow, marshy waters on the west side, cover more than 120 miles from north to south. Here, small shrimp, crabs, worms and shellfish, the bonefish’s favourite dinner, live in abundance, as do an unlimited number of bonefish. The west side of many of the outer cays, like Green Turtle, Manjack and others, offer more of the same, as does the eastern side of Great Abaco from Snake Cay to Cherokee Sound.

While some locals still somehow manage to prepare and eat bonefish in stew or crushed into cakes, the bones that make up its anatomy have always made it less than popular as a food source, and today the fish is protected as a sport fish only. As such, it is always caught and released. The majority of bonefishermen and women use fly fishing techniques somewhat similar to mountain stream trout fishing, but with some significant differences. The fly, a light-weight lure usually crafted by the fisherman himself with personal intuition regarding how to attract and fool the fish, is cast as far as 50 or 60 feet, so that it lands softly at least ten feet in front of the fish. But before that can happen, the fish have to be found.

Most guides use 14 to 17-foot shallow draft boats powered by outboard motors to get to the fishing grounds, then pole their boats silently across the flats looking for signs of fish.. The guide, often scanning the waters from an elevated platform, spots the tell-tale signs of the fish, which sometimes travel in schools of 30 or more. Their tails and dorsal fins often break the surface when feeding in the shallow water. The cast is sideways so that the fly falls lightly. Plopping the fly in the water, or casting too close to the fish, will almost certainly spook them into a quick departure. Once hooked, however, a bonefish zips away at incredible speed, often running 100 yards or more on its initial flight. They generally weigh from four to six pounds, but ten-pounders are not uncommon in Abaco. Besides casting, it takes finese to set the hook, let the fish run, play out the line and keep him out of coral or marsh where the line might tangle or break. After netting him for a quick photo, the bonefish must be properly released unharmed and in a manner insuring he will swim away to perhaps fight another day. It’s not easy, and even a good bonefisherman will lose half the fish he hooks, getting a strike on one out of ten casts. Nevertheless, there are plenty of fish, and the chase is often the greatest reward.

“It’s the stalking that’s fun,” says Neil O’Shea, a bonefishing fanatic who travels to Abaco with his equally enthusiastic wife, Karen. The English couple, who travel 4,000 miles from their home in Cheshire near Manchester, have been back to Green Turtle Cay four times since they got married in 1998, staying at the New Plymouth Inn. And while they have utilized local guides like Ronnie Sawyer, they like to go on their own, wading knee deep on the “town flats” just south of the settlement. Other locations in Abaco offer similar opportunities to bonefish without a guide. At the Sunset Resort, located on Abaco’s west side five miles north of Marsh Harbour, owners Janeen and Silbert Cooper work with a number of guides, but say it’s also “simple to just walk off the dock.” A flat, shallow expanse of water from their shoreline that stretches to the horizon is dotted with small, green atolls where ideal bonefish waters are five minutes away.

Many bonefishermen describe the experience as almost spiritual, as well as an addictive encounter with nature. It’s quiet and totally serene. The flats are habitat for fish and birds of all types. Herons, egrets, rays, barracuda and sharks are plentiful, as well as tropical fish. Sharks and barracuda stalk bonefish, and some guides rely on their presence as a strong indicator that bonefish are near. Visiting fishermen are often focused, and dedicate most of their vacation to the sport.

“Typically, fishing guests get up at 6:30, have coffee and talk about bonefishing,” says Janeen Cooper at Sunset Resort, which also has two bonefishing skiffs of its own. “They fish until 4 pm, come in for snacks, a swim in the pool, clean up, have dinner, talk about bonefishing and go to bed.”

Other bonefishing lodges in Abaco include Nettie Symonette’s “Different of Abaco,” in Casurina Point, Rickmon’s Bonefishing Lodge, Pete and Gays Bonefishing Lodge, and Oeisha’s Resort in Sandy Point. Green Turtle Cay, Treasure Cay, Hope Town, Guana Cay and Marsh Habour are also popular locales with a number of guides in residence or close by. All provide pickup service with optional equipment. Lunch is usually not provided. A good pair of UV sunglasses, sun screen and head covering for protection from the sun and being hooked is always a must. Guides are highly recommended for novices, and even for experienced fishermen. Finding the best fishing grounds in the company of a local guide greatly enchances the occasion, and is most likely to make it a memorable one.

UNINVITED GLITCHES SOMETIMES MAKE A BAREFOOT WEDDING MORE MEMORABLE
By Jim Kerr
Abaco Life Editor

The wedding cake, a three-tiered structure filled with strawberries, had collapsed.

As the Jeep Wagoner crept ever so slowly along the road from town to Bluff House on Green Turtle Cay, even the most painstaking care had failed. The wedding, an elaborate if barefoot affair, was in half an hour. But the cake would be repaired quietly, behind the scenes and out of sight, never to distract or dismay a single soul on this otherwise joyous occasion.

“Usually, there is some kind of glitch,” says Molly McIntosh, who, after presiding over arrangements for hundreds of weddings at Bluff House over the years, ought to know. “But it’s always a memorable experience, not just for the bride and groom, but for everyone.”

Minor snafus and last-minute, “island-style” adjustments are common; a sudden rain shower, late arrivals, lost luggage. There’s the cake that melts on the ferry or topples on the table, requiring a rebuild. Or the minister from afar who has forgotten his “vow book,” and has to dispatch a runner to fetch it an hour before the ceremony. But the island glitches are balanced with warm beachy days, starry night skies, moonlit walks on the sand, sun tans, painted-sky sunsets, and the increduity of first-time snorkeling. Dolphins frolicking in the bow wake of a sunset harbour cruise, appearing as though on cue, have been among the positive omens. And these, as well as the snafus, are the shared and treasured memories that will last a lifetime.

Around the island archipelago, from Elbow Cay to Marsh Harbour, from Guana Cay to Green Turtle Cay, folks are getting hitched Abaco style. Both locals and foreign visitors arrange resort weddings and do it up in big and small ways; from 100 friends and relatives to intimate and quiet ceremonies. Attire ranges from tux and gown in church, to barefoot on the beach. Abaco’s resorts are averaging more than 100 weddings a year, and almost every resort has an assigned wedding guru who has developed an expertise which goes far beyond flowers and photography.

“A wedding here is unique and beautiful,” says Tania Duncombe, food and beverage manager at the Hope Town Harbour Lodge. “People want an experience that everyone can enjoy. It’s great for young professionals who want a casual, stress free getaway they can share with their family and friends.”

Sometimes, however, it’s not quite stress-free for Tania. Not long ago three straight days of rain preceded a large wedding during which a secret fireworks display was planned. The bride, groom and wedding party were returning from the Methodist Church at 4 pm., and still it poured. A construction crew had already rigged up a tent over the entire outside patio where greenery, gathered hastily from the bush by Tania and her helpers, hid the tent poles. But then, lo and behold, the skies cleared as the bride and groom made their way back up the street to the lodge, and a dazzling sunset, like a heavenly omen, lit the western sky behind the lighthouse. The fireworks followed, the stars came out, dancing ensued.

At the Abaco Beach Resort in Marsh Harbour, Kevi Thomas is a popular fixture in sales and marketing whose portfolio includes the title of wedding coordinator. As such she deals with many couples who want an island wedding that will fulfill a pre-conceived dream of tropical bliss. It’s up to Kevi to provide all the attendant props and atmosphere.

“A couple from Michigan wanted to be married in The Bahamas, but had never been here. They wanted the simplicity of the island, but they wanted elegance too. We made an aisleway up the beach lined with potted palms, conch shells and overflowing bougainvillea. There were tiki torches, and the sun was setting. The sky was serene and beautiful.”

The resort organizes a dozen weddings a year, averaging about 20 people, although 40 rooms in the resort have been booked for one wedding in November. And regardless of how elaborate or simple a ceremony might be, the event is almost always a five to seven-day affair. The bride and groom may get joined in holy matrimony, but the guests often cut loose in down-to-earth fun.

If the wedding is at the Abaco Inn or Hope Town Harbour Lodge, the wedding party might head out aboard Froggies Island Adventure for a day-long snorkeling trip to Fowl Cay Reef; or climb into rental boats and head for Cracker P’s for a gourmet luncheon on Lubbers Quarters. Mostly, however, they stay in town - lounging around on hammocks, walking the beach, riding rented bikes and sipping frothy sunset drinks.

“We set up dinners around the island,” says Tania. “They get a feel for the whole place. It’s a great getaway experience. It’s unique and beautiful - an international destination that’s close, intimate and civilized, and costs far less that a big city wedding.”

The Lodge averaged 60 to 75 people for seven weddings so far this year, with another 10 planned through the end of 2002. Guests not only fill the resort’s 24 rooms, but rent houses as well.

Bluff House has orchestrated as many as 36 weddings in one year. Fortunately, says Molly, some are small with just a couple of friends, or even the hotel staff, as witnesses. The resort sells a basic wedding package, which includes the minister, license, ceremony, cake, bottle of champagne, hors’d'oeurves, a bridal bouquet, groom’s button hole flower, and photography, for $1,000. From there, the sky’s the limit. Options include a special cake with sugar shells, a decorated beach setting, a soloist singer or entire band, and T-shirts with “Bluff House” and the wedding date emblazoned on them. Activities can include a day’s snorkeling and picnicing with Brendal, of Brendal’s Dive Center, a guest golf tournament at Treasure Cay, sailing or bone fishing charters.

A wedding in Abaco - regardless of whether it’s a first for the bride or groom - is always an event the wedding couple wants to share. “They are very much into each other,” says Molly. “but at home, weddings are often more for everyone else. Here, you are giving your guests something different.”

Traditionally, the bride and groom arrive mid-week before the Saturday wedding and pick up their license from either the commissioner’s office in Marsh Harbour or in Green Turtle Cay. They need to be in the Bahamas 24 hours before the wedding. (See side bar on requirements). If they are already familiar with Abaco, locals often become invited guests to the wedding. Afterwards, Abaco usually becomes the site of the honeymoon, and, more often than not, the wedding guests - or a portion of them - stay on as well. By then, the sailing is usually smooth, the glitches gone. The wedding is over, the luggage has arrived, calm prevails.

For Molly, Tania, Kevi and other wedding arrangers in Abaco who deal with behind-the-scenes surprises, there’s a sense of relief - until the next one.

GETTING HITCHED BAHAMAS STYLE IN ABACO

To qualify for marriage in the Bahamas, you must be a resident in the Bahamas for a minimum of one day (24 hours) prior to the wedding. The following is necessary to obtain a marriage license, available at the commissioner’s office either in Marsh Harbour or Green Turtle Cay:  Birth certificates, Passports,Affidavits stating you have never been married or Divorce decrees, Bahamian entry visa to prove length of time in the Bahamas

NO LONGER HUMBLE, ABACO HOMES STILL REFLECT LOYALIST HISTORY
By Jim Kerr
Abaco Life Editor

Abaco’s early settlers lacked interest in appearances. A house was a place where you survived the wind and the rain and the summer heat. You stored water beneath it and salt in boxes, and the kitchen was a separate building outside so the house wouldn’t burn down in case of fire.

The house was usually turned away from the sea, its back to the sound of surf and blowing sand. And when you built your “home, sweet home,” you had to take into account materials and skills at hand.

But the loyalist settlers who started arriving here in 1783 also came with ideas, brought from New England and colonial cities in the U.S., such as Charleston, South Carolina. Charleston itself had been heavily influenced by the French, and by English islanders sailing up from the Caribbean.

Once the fundamentals of survival were mastered in Abaco living, loyalist descendants began to adapt some of the old styles and designs they had brought to this unique island environment, using shipbuilding skills and techniques they had developed in this world of the sea.

Steep staircases, built like those on a wrecking schooner, led upstairs to attic-like spaces used for additional sleeping quarters. The steeply peaked roof funneled precious rainwater to underground cisterns, but the space under the roof was cramped and hot, so dormers and gable windows were cut for light and ventilation. Outside, white picket fences began to sprout in the yard; then porches with draping gingerbread were added.

Today in Abaco there are many modern designs, but generally the loyalist look has survived and been preserved in communities such as Hope Town on Elbow Cay, Guana Harbour on Great Guana Cay, New Plymouth on Green Turtle Cay and Cherokee Sound in South Abaco. Many of the houses dating back 100 years or more have been restored or renovated. And newly built houses, while reflecting a wide range of architectural ideas, have a distinct island flair.

“The pitch of the roof is the most important feature,” says Michael Myers, a landscape architect who lives in Hope Town. “It sets the mood. You can get away with a lot of other things, but the angle of the roof sets the loyalist ambiance. It’s like a woman’s hat. It draws your attention.”

His own house features a widow’s walk, a little porch atop the house that commands a panoramic view of the harbour and sea beyond. He and his wife, Patte, restored the hilltop home at the harbour’s entrance several years ago, opening up the house’s small, interior rooms into a great room with a kitchen and dining area that looks out onto a lush, tropical garden. The house is refered to as “The Wedding Cake House” because of its gingerbread trim, pure white colour and unusual, rounded shape.

Bougainvillea, banana plants, hibiscus and other flowering scrubs combine into a delighful and comforting scene just outside the door. Hope Town has become much more tropical in recent years as home owners plant a combination of Caribbean and Florida plants, all of which thrive on little rainfall. Evidence of this man-induced tropical abundance can be seen in landscaping all over Abaco, from beachfront and waterfront homes at Treasure Cay and Green Turtle Cay to the backyards of Marsh Harbour and Man-O-War Cay. Several nurseries on Abaco provide the plants, while amateur horticulturists and professional landscapers do the rest.

Abaco’s construction industry is also booming. Architects, designers and builders are backed up with pending projects, many of them involving foreign owners seeking both full and part-time residence. Renovation of older houses is still popular, but with plenty of building materials now available from local hardware stores and lumberyards, as well as efficient freight operations from Florida and Marsh Harbour, many builders would rather start from scratch.

“Renovation is expensive,” says Kevin Albury, a popular builder on Elbow Cay. “It’s hard, dirty work, but it looks good when it’s finished. Abaco pine used in the original construction is usually good for another 100 years, but exterior siding, shutters and all the interior usually has to be redone.”

Nails were unavailable in Abaco during early construction, so wooden pegs were used. Mortise and tenor were used for joints. Today, a new woodframe house built in the old style is likely to have a concrete foundation and standard asphalt shingles with cement-based siding that looks like wood.

Many residents have also added artistic trimming and extensions to older houses. Woodcarver and sculptor Russ Ervin built a large front porch on his harbourfront home in Hope Town with pineapple pattern designs and gingerbread. The original design of the house, built here in the 1800s by loyalist descendants, was first introduced into Charleston by French immigrants. Early builders feared hurricanes would rip frills such as porches off the house and blow them away.

Russ’ house, like many others on the cays, was built with the front door along the side, another precaution against rising water. Few property owners today would forego a waterfront - and especially oceanfront - view because of the exposure. At “Villa Pasha” on Green Turtle Cay, owner Paul Thompson built his beachfront home with a series of French doors around the house to enhance the feeling of openness and the view. The design is based on a Caribbean style home built in Guadeloupe around 1874.

Great Abaco Club in Marsh Harbour offers a wide variety of designs to new home builders in this gated, waterfront community, but all designs have an open, island style, and you can have any colour you want as long as it’s pastel. Both the club’s architectural committee and a town architectural committee have to approve the plan. Construction costs run from $100 to $170 a square foot, and every upgrade is available. from Bermuda roofs to Italian tiles.

Unlike the bare-bones, utilitarian furniture used by early islanders, many of the new or restored homes in Abaco today are furnished in colonial antiques, wicker or rattan. Local craftsmen, like Bill Fuller on Elbow Cay, also make Caribbean and plantation-style furniture that adds to a relaxed, casual but upscale island look. Paintings, shell art, driftwood sculpture and other decorations adorn walls and shelves. Perhaps the most impressively decorated of all is the home of Abaco artist Alton Lowe on Green Turtle Cay where the walls are covered with his original oils, both inside the house and in the adjoining Lowe Gallery.

Some of the outdoor scenery and salt air may remain essentially the same as it was in 1783, but life in Abaco has reached a level of comfort and aesthetics never envisioned by those early settlers. Hardwood floors and modern indoor kitchens prevail - not to mention tiled bathrooms and cozy bedrooms with a beach view. It doesn’t get much better than this.

SMELL IT, TASTE IT, SAVOR IT: IT’S FRESH-BAKED ABACO BREAD!
By Cathy Kerr

From the biblical “manna from heaven” to the reference in the Lord’s Prayer to “our daily bread,” it’s always been the “staff of life.” It was a key element in historical and literary events, too. The theft of a loaf of bread in “Les Miserables” started the chain of events that are the basis of that novel and play, and ignoring its importance to the citizens of France contributed to the downfall of Marie Antoinette. It’s the first thing off grocery shelves when a storm is predicted, and an essential prelude to dinner at restaurants around the world. But in few places does it conjure the dreamy-eyed wistfulness that it does in Abaco.

Fresh-baked island bread goes with Abaco like sea water and sunshine. Patrons of many Abaco eateries return time and again for conch salad or grouper atop full-bodied island sourdough. And breakfast at most cottages or boats wouldn’t be complete without a thick toasted slice topped with a dollop of melting New Zealand creamery butter and a spoonful of mango jam.

Every Abaco community has a baker, if not a bakery. On Man-O-War Cay, locals and visitors alike harken to the sound of Lola Sawyer’s golf cart, which is laden with fresh bread and her legendary cinnamon rolls, ready for direct sale to local businesses and the waiting public. Lola, a lifetime resident of Man-O-War, has been baking bread in her kitchen for many years, and her secrets are closely guarded.

At McIntosh Restaurant and Bakery in Green Turtle Cay, Denise McIntosh arranges an assortment of daily-baked goods, including bread, pies and cakes on a counter for customer selection, and fresh bread and rolls are a foundation of the menu. Marsh Harbour residents collect their bread from a number of local sources, and appreciate the fact that Abaco is one of the few places where fresh-baked bread can be found in grocery stores. In Abaco, “sliced bread” isn’t considered all that great!

As you walk through the Hope Town settlement, the wafting aroma of fresh-baked bread is likely to tempt you to slip through the screen door of Vernon’s Grocery. The crusty brown loaves have been a key ingredient in his business for 40 years. Today he bakes white, whole wheat, multi-grain, onion, sourdough and sometimes raisin breads. Specialties include banana, date-nut, cranberry and guava-raisin, and on special request he’ll even make dietetic salt-free bread. His tiny bakery, an annex to his grocery store, turns out an average of 100 loaves a day, which sell for $2.50 a loaf.

Like many Abaco bakers, Vernon learned the art of baking from his parents. His mom baked six to ten loaves at a time, three times a week, in a rock oven outside their Hope Town house. It was all sourdough, the unanimous choice of his eight-member family. “Baking bread was a social event where people shared one oven,” Vernon remembers. “It was your afternoon work, and it was eaten with every meal - a major part of everyone’s diet.”

In those days, flour called “Cream of the West” came in 100 lb sacks on the mailboat. Before that, when flour was altogether unavailable or unaffordable, folks made “potato bread.” No one in Abaco grew wheat. In settlements such as Sandy Point, people dug up roots to make a kind of bread called “pap.” Johnnycake, made like a flattened and soft muffin, was once a “poor man’s bread,” but is today a fashionable addition to the dinner table.

Somewhat ironically, the secret to the consistency, taste and popularity of Abaco bread is Canadian flour. “U.S. flour does not make good bread,” asserts Vernon. “It does not walk (knead) well.” The Canadian flour of modern times carries brand names like Purity, Robinhood or Five Roses. One starts with sugar, salt and yeast, adding a liquid shortening or oil with warm water and flour. The dough is kneaded, allowed to rise twice, then shaped into loaves, put in pans and baked. The yeast makes it rise. In Vernon’s gas convection ovens, 48 loaves can be produced in about 30 minutes. About half his working day is spent baking bread.

Of course, there are other delicacies emanating from Abaco ovens: fresh coconut or key lime pie, cakes, tarts, rolls and a steamed and boiled jelly roll treat called guava duff. But bread is king. In fact, dozens of loaves leave Abaco each week as gifts, as visitors balance them with carry-on luggage, hoping customs agents won’t prod them into inedible lumps. But even when the transport is successful, many later realize that one key ingredient is missing: a morning sunrise over an Abaco beach.

By Jim Kerr
Abaco Life Editor

In a small café and liquor store in New Plymouth on Green Turtle Cay, someone said: “daytime is beer time, but rum owns the sunset.”

It might have been David Bethell, who owns the Plymouth Rock Café and Liquor Store, and who carries on his shelves no fewer than 72 kinds of rum. There are light rums and dark rums, sweet flavored rums and fruity rums, rum liqueurs for sipping and smooth rums for drinking on the rocks. There are rums for cooking, marinating, flaming, and flavoring everything from cakes to coffee.

Rum is the preferred drink of the islands, and, by association, the boaters who frequent them. It was called “grog” back in the heyday of pirates in the Bahamas, and “booze” during the heady bootlegging days, when Abaconian ship captains sailed their schooners to New Jersey loaded with this much-sought contraband. And let us not forget that the second island landfall Columbus encountered in the Bahamas on his first journey to the New World is today known as “Rum Cay.”

The stuff altered the Caribbean forever with Columbus’ introduction of sugar cane from the Canaries on his third voyage. And after slaves from West Africa were imported to work the big sugar cane plantations of the English, Dutch and French, a “vicious triangle” was formed as grog went to Europe via the Americas, where it was traded for textiles, guns and, ultimately, more slaves. Today, however, what was once referred to by prohibitionists as “demon rum” has taken on a benevolent role. It is so strongly intertwined with vacation pleasure that, on arrival, many visitors gravitate to the nearest watering hole faster than you can say “pina colada.”

Among spirits, rum is the number one best-seller in the world, with several million locals and visitors in the Bahamas and Caribbean helping it retain that status. The most popular rums in Abaco are Mount Gay, Bacardi and Anejo. The venerable Cuba Libre, made from white rum and Coca Cola, is still simple and popular, but for fruity, and potent, drinks, Meyers mixes the best, according to our sources. Virtually every bar, restaurant and resort in Abaco has a specialty drink made with some kind of rum, and the Goombay Smash served up at Miss Emily’s Blue Bee Bar in New Plymouth is still legendary. While the exact recipe remains a house secret, the main ingredients are believed to be pineapple juice and 60 proof coconut rum, with perhaps something else to “kick it up a bit.” They go down deliciously smooth, luring the thirsty patron to try another, which often brings dizzying results. Another theory is that, because Goombay smashes are premixed and refrigerated overnight in plastic gallon jugs, the sweet fruit juice and sugar-based alcohol get an extra evening to interact, increasing the strength of the brew.

The basics of rum-making are standard, although the process can have many variations. Molasses is fermented from crushed sugar cane and fruit juice. The mix is combined with oxygen, distilled, heated and separated. Timing and temperature is everything. Ingredients, flavoring, labor costs, length of process, shipping and even the artistic value of the bottle can determine the price of rum. In Abaco, it comes from distilleries in Nassau and Freeport, West Palm Beach and several Caribbean islands. A bottle of Cruzan, a rum originating in St. Croix but bottled in West Palm Beach, costs $12.95, while a bottle of Ron Matusalem, a rum originating in Cuba but now distilled in the Domincan Republic, costs $12.95. Most rums run between $8 and $15 a bottle regardless of origin.

Jan Samuelson, a wine and rum connoisseur and writer who recently visited Green Turtle Cay, tested out a variety of locally-available rums. “The qualities I look for in a good rum are a well-balanced taste between the alcohol and the flavors from the barrel, mostly oak and vanilla,” he says. “Other flavors often found in better rums include chocolate, licorice, molasses and citrus.”

He tasted five different rums selected from the best at the Green Turtle Club and ranked them on a point system from one to 20. The results were: Barbancourt from Haiti - 18.5; Mount Cay Extra from St. Croix - 18.5; Cruzan Single Barrel from St. Croix - 19; Appleton Estate from Jamaica - 18 and Ron Barcelo Imperial from Santo Domingo - 17.

Many boaters and other vacationers in Abaco might take this as confirmation of a long-held premise: rum is one of the cheapest forms of quality entertainment. To witness followers of this tenet, stop in at any Abaco bar or resort at Happy Hour. Or drop by the Plymouth Rock Café and Liquor Store around 5 pm., where you are likely to find proprietor David Bethell busy bagging bottles of grog.

“I can’t say that I’ve tried all 72 kinds myself,” says David. “But I’d like to.”