connoisseur series500

Here is the so called "Hole in the Wall." The name was given at least 200 years ago so this geological formation has lasted a long time.

As remote as Schooner Bay might appear, the extreme Southern tip of Abaco is completely uninhabited. There is a place on the island tip known as Hole in the Wall. It was named after a natural formation in the coral which creates a hole in the wall appearance. It is guarded by an old lighthouse built in 1832 but is now automated. Here a few pics from the web: These lighthouse pics were taken from another forum: http://coconuttelegraph.net/forums/search....searchid=425217

Yes, this was incredibly special--and for my father as well. Three generations went down there together. I recall when my father took me to see his childhood home in the island of Montserrat. I was 14 at the time and was reliving my father's memories as he told me his stories while tramping around the place. It was a special time. Speaking of the Earth as a living organism...that boyhood place is now buried under volcanic ash. The volcano in Montserrat buried a good part of the island during several eruptions in the 90s.

No special Hope Town stories unfortunately. I recall going maybe 2-3 times as a kid. Visited the candystriped lighthouse and such. Always had fun there, but that was about it. I do plan to return to Abaco. I would love to share a villa with a few guys from the board (you too Impossible!) I'll take you guys to places you wouldn't imagine as I know much of the island. Our villa was very close to the ferry launch to Hope Town. Hope Town is in Elbow Cay. I found out that one of the schoolteachers at Snake Cay School in my day now lives in Hope Town. He must have decided to retire there. Wouldn't mind looking him up. Casuarina Point had great bonefish back in our day. We did not bring the right gear for them (plus you need so much patience.) I had a difficult time sitting still as there was so much I wanted to do within the three day period.

Wish I had some of your skills as a photographer, Tom. I just pointed blindly and clicked. You and someone like Barak would have come back with some terrific shots.

Well that's if for now. I'm tired but I'll close with a very middleaged and sunburned "yours truly" trying to catch some sense of deja vu by fishing off the Snake Cay dock before the evening closes in, as I did a few times as a boy. Looks like the evening has closed in on Snake Cay for good, and I don't think I'll ever need to revisit it. I went three times over the course of the three days in Abaco. I just wanted to soak up whatever residue of feelings or memories were left. There are other shots of the beach area at Snake Cay, which I didn't show. I tried to recognize certain places, and in many cases I was able to do that. But the topography has changed a bit. I guess global warming, tidal changes, hurricanes--whatever. I have changed and grown from boy to middleaged man, but the land has changed as well. I could see that the Earth is a living organism and it changes too.

Trick is to hold them fast so they can't reach out of the shell and pinch you. See the size of that claw? His "pliers" are the size of my fingernails! I was wrestling with this brute. He wanted to come out and get me!

Lots of hermit crabs at the villa. The owner feeds them coconut. They can give a mean pinch but I know how to pick them up.

Here you can see why the elevation of the dock has been lowered. Looks like gravel and rocks have run off into the ocean. Albert is standing where no one could have done so 36 years ago. He would have been in the middle of the water.

Sunken boats off the Snake Cay dock.

Dead sting ray on the dock at Snake Cay. Somebody must have caught it and dumped it there. Flies were all over it. I told Albert afterwards that I should have tried to pry out the barb on its tail as a souvenir, but I didn't think about it at the time. I was concerned about getting a little fishing in as dark was approaching (no electricity out on the dock--we would have to rely on lights from the stars.) I had the pliers and everything but it was stinky with all the flies...

Thanks!

Inside the villa.

Me at the villa.

At the end of the day, we would return to our villa in Marsh Harbour, the island's capital. View from my deck chair:

Right at the edge of the beach. The waves often reach 7-8ft and the shore is loud with the pounding. You can see the rocky island in the background. It's scary being alone on that beach. You wonder about the sharks or whatever, but you are scared mostly because you are a speck within this very dynamic vastness. Once a big hotel gets planted there, folks, the magic will have disappeared. I wouldn't hold my breath though. It could take years before they start development.

Here's another shot as Albert walks farther towards the beach. There is a great sense of vastness. And you are entirely alone amidst this vast beach.

Ok, enough about that! The history of the island is intertwined with Owens-Illinois, but there are other parts of the island which have nothing to do with that history. There was a wonderful beach to the South of the island with large waves and spectacular scenery. Whenever we visited, we were entirely alone amidst the splendor. We discovered that a developer has bought the land around the beach and plans to develop it at some point. We enquired about visiting it and were told to ignore the "keep out!" sign. The developer lives in Nassau and nobody is around. The place looks as deserted as back in our day. There's a steep unpaved road going up to the beach, and my father started struggling in the mid-day heat. I told him to stay put as Albert and I walked on towards the beach. We seemed so alone within the vastness of the place and amidst the roaring surf. Here is a pic. of Albert walking towards the beach. My picture doesn't do the beach justice in that it doesn't quite capture the full beauty of this place. There is a rocky island in the background and the visitor can easily see the waves beating upon it. It is breathtaking.

Old molasses vats on the dock.

Owens-Illinois brought in a couple of railroad cars to serve as living quarters for some of the loggers who worked at Snake Cay. They sat on rails and I used to check them out as a kid. By then nobody lived in them anymore as houses had been built. Here are the train cars today at Snake Cay. The place is a graveyard!

Shot from the same side of the dock but looking straight ahead to a channel. Those beaches are inaccessible by land; there are no roads. Dad said that he once went out on a boat on one of those beaches in 1969 and found an old shipwrecked barge. He said that the deck was approximately level with the ocean. He stepped onto the barge and checked it out. Too bad he never brought a camera. I fancy I can see the remains of the barge in the far left of the picture. My own pics have more pixels and are larger.

Same side but looking towards sea.

Other side of the dock. Trees growing on the dock itself!