Southern Sojourn

Warm people and fertile fishing grounds

are this Out Island’s biggest draws.

Most people cruising in the Bahamas never venture further south than Long Island, due to the lack of marina facilities, customs offices and most important, fuel in the lower Out Islands. But those few adventurous mariners who do fuel up at Flying Fish Marina in Clarence Town, Long Island, and head southeast across Crooked Island Passage, are headed for one of the Bahamas’ best kept secrets, a natural and historical island playground.

Crooked Island is part of an archipelago that also includes Acklins Island and Long Cay, which once played a significant economic role in the development of the Bahamas and the wider Caribbean. Remnants of that era still exist, including the first post office in the Bahamas, which is now the reception lobby at the Pittstown Point Landings resort (pittstownpoint.com). Old cotton plantations called Seaview and Hope House are tucked away in the hills of Crooked Island; still visible on their walls are etchings of great schooners that once traded in the islands.
Arriving at Crooked Island by boat, you first come to Bird Rock, a small offshore island with a prominent lighthouse and derelict buildings that once housed the keeper. Just beyond Bird Rock is Seahorse Shores, at the northwest corner of Crooked Island, which is surrounded by the most beautiful beach. On a good day, the waters off of Seahorse Shores are a great place to anchor and access Pittstown Point Landing’s beachside facilities. The resort’s private runway also appeals to owners who send their captain ahead to Crooked Island with the yacht, then fly over to meet it.
Once the weather moves in, however, there is only one place to drop the hook: French Wells, located in the cut between Crooked Island and Long Cay. It was in this protected anchorage that we arranged for one of the island guides to meet us and take us on a tour of the Bight of Acklins. The Bight is surrounded by the three main islands of the archipelago and has all the features of a national park.
On schedule, a flats boat approached our stern with a uniformed guide aboard who introduced himself as “Shakey”.  As we climbed onto his boat, he immediately started telling us of the history of the Bight. Long Cay, our first stop, once had a population of a few thousand people, which has now dwindled to 18. One of the few remaining hints of this once-prosperous era is the church, which could easily hold a congregation of several hundred people. Most of the Long Cay settlement has been overgrown by trees and vines or washed away with time, but the few colorful buildings still standing inspired us to imagine a bustling port with tall-masted schooners trading goods collected from around the world.
Our next stop was Turtle Sound, a creek and mangrove system that runs through the center of Crooked Island. Its shallow entrance is marked with wooden posts. This is a popular flats fishing spot, as well as a feeding ground for the few hundred flamingos that have permanently settled in the Bight.
As we entered the creek, Shakey began winding left and right, following the rows of mangroves that keep the shoreline. This was one of the most beautiful boat rides I’ve ever experienced.  Suddenly, he idled back and focused intently on something in the water we could not see.  He pulled back to neutral and killed the engine, then reached into the live well, pulled out a shiny pilchard, and hooked it on the end of his rod.  He cast the fish and it splashed at the base of the mangroves.
“Shhhh, shhhh,” he whispered.
The clear line rippled the water where the bait had landed, and Shakey jerked back on the rod. The tip caught firm and the rod bent to its full flexibility.  “Got him!” he shouted.
The line zipped through the reel and he scurried forward to plant himself on the bow. Just as he got into position, a four-foot tarpon exploded out of the water, did five or six mid-aiir shakes and splashed back into the water.  Five seconds later, it exploded from the water again, this time landing six feet up in the mangroves and popping the line.
The atmosphere on the flats boat was electric.  “Anyone want to fish?”  Shakey asked.
“Yes!” we chorused.
The rest of morning was spent anchored near the current, casting live pilchards. Our bounty included yellowtails, mutton snapper, grouper and the odd barracuda Shakey insisted was O.K. to eat. We spent the afternoon exploring, swimming and diving for jumbo conch in neck-deep water, which we turned into a mouthwatering conch salad.
Dinner that evening was at Wilhelmina Gibson’s in Landrail Point. Her mother, Marina, a matriarch of the settlement, started the restaurant and Gibson’s Guesthouse decades ago. Eating with the Gibsons is a family experience. One of the main drawing cards for Crooked Island is the authentic, old-fashioned way the people appreciate and look after visitors. If you are staying at either Gibson’s Guesthouse or Pittstown Point Landings, you will need to ask for a key to your room because they assume you won’t need one.
The next morning, we went snorkeling around Bird Rock Lighthouse searching for giant sand dollars. The water is crystal clear there, the sand is pure white, and the sand dollars are the biggest you can find. We also visited Marine Farm, which was built by the British to protect the island from invaders and pirates. Giant cannon from King George’s era surround the site.
Later, a siesta in the sweet island breeze capped off a memorable Out Island sojourn.

A record-setting bonefish guide, this native Biminite is also a fifth-generation boat-builder.

Gliding through the golden waters of Bimini’s back bay in his 15-foot wooden fishing skiff, Capt. Ansil Saunders gestures toward Mangrove Island where, 40 years ago, he hooked a monster 16-pound bonefish. (This elusive species usually runs closer to four pounds per fish.) Ansil recalls his record-setting catch as if it were yesterday.
“He was running for the mangroves, but just before he got away, he turned and ran toward the boat, and we were able to get him,” he says.
Today, Bonefish Ansil is one of the top fishing guides on the island, taking clients staying at the Bimini Big Game Club and other resorts to his favorite spots on the flats and in the creeks for epic saltwater flyfishing action. To illustrate his story, he breaks out his saltwater fly rod and begins to cast. Almost immediately, a four-foot barracuda greedily swallows the hook.
As he has countless times in the past, Ansil engages the fish in a battle of brains and brawn, letting the ’cuda run and then reeling him back in. At one point, he hands the rod to a novice angler and patiently gives instruction. Ultimately, the barracuda is brought to the boat, where Ansil delicately removes the hook and sets the big fish free.
Although fishing with Capt. Ansil is exhilarating, part of the experience is riding in Jewel, his current boat, which he built by hand in his green boat shed on the bay in North Bimini—the fifth generation of his family to do so.
“It has white oak ribs, Okumi plywood from Africa, mahogany decks and a white horseflesh bow stem and stern,” he says, explaining that “horseflesh” is a tree found on South Bimini that is prized for its hardness, density and beauty. Ansil builds each helm station from the inside out, so no fastenings will show on the outside of the box. An old-school flats boat, Jewel doesn’t have a poling platform; Ansil stands in the stern using a hand-made wooden oar, while his clients sit in two worn lawn chairs in the bow.
Jewel draws just five inches, which is a good thing because Ansil soon turns from the skinny waters of the bay into a series of even shallower channels through the mangroves which he must navigate on plane so the outboard drive leg won’t ground. After zipping through the green tunnels at 30 mph for a few minutes, he rounds a bend and stops, switching off the motor. “This is where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote his last speech,” he said. “That is why I call it ‘the Holy Ground’.”
He stands up in his boat to tell the story, which he has related many times over the years, of how he took Martin Luther King into the mangroves in 1968 to find a peaceful spot to write the speech he would deliver to the striking sanitation workers in Memphis,  Tennessee. “Knowing he was going to die, he included his eulogy,” Ansil recalls. We sit in silence for a few moments, awed by the quiet beauty of the place.
Ansil’s wooden skiffs cost $40,000 and take about six months to build. For more information, or to book a bonefishing trip, contact him at 242-347-3098.