Conception is a magical place and I can’t quite explain or even figure out why. It is a lovely beach on an island surrounded by the ocean. There is nothing there, no people, no Batelco tower, no cruiser-created yacht clubs. A short hop from Long Island, you have the opportunity to fish. Once there, you cannot “take” anything even though the reefs surrounding the island are abundant with sealife. It is part of the Bahamas National Trust and protected from the likes of us and all others.
As we approached the anchorage, we saw a few sailboats at anchor, one 233 foot mega yacht, and close to shore something that looked like a large, very large, piece of metal, perhaps a shack of some sort, that had been washed ashore. When we got closer, we realized it was just Batman’s boat. Understand that as ugly, or elegant depending on your point of view, as Batman’s boat is, this is a multi million dollar affair. It did not have appear to have doors, antennae, or an anchor line, but they were all there somewhere. At lunch the next day, their launch brought back 15 people from the mega yacht for dining. I could not see the activity, but pictured white table cloths with fine wine and filet mignon en croute.
The damned mega yacht disbursed four or five seadoos (AKA maggots) the following morning, and a runabout which pulled two water skiers, thoughtlessly circling the anchorage and making wakes. So much for peace and harmony.
Despite the shout-out to the anchorage for happy hour on the beach, none of the Rich and Famous attended. At the gathering we met Martha and Bill from Eagles Wings, Keith and Rose from Camelot, Donna and Dave from Pas de Deux (whom I had been hearing on the single side band as Potted Earth, go figure and what the hell with my five years of French), and the folks from Between the Sheets.
Tomorrow, on to Cat Island.