I have been singing "The Banana Boat Song" aka "Day-O" for three days. All I want to do is go home. To be fair, Sunday was a last minute day. We got a phone call from the supply boat captain early in the morning to let us know that he was heading back to Nassau. We had about an hour to try and compile our larger items and get them to his boat so he could carry it over for us. When arrived at his boat to drop off our things, Mark and I ached to jump on board and head to Nassau with him. He had a whole crew of people along for the ride, and it would have been anything but boring with that crowd. Unfortunately I hadn't organized my office items or packed my clothes yet, so I wasn't quite prepared to cast away. No big deal, we thought.
We returned to our accommodations and put our focus on packing for a few hours, and before we knew it we were ready to give up our lives on this small remote out-island and head back to the big city of Nassau. Our next move was to book a charter plane out of Nassau to come pick us up later in the afternoon. We were ready to go, so might as well just go. Easier said than done. We made a few phone calls to our charter contacts and of course it being Sunday, no one was interested in answering their phones.
Monday rolled around and we did a second round of phone calls. Invest 99L was showing potential in becoming a full-on tropical system (now hurricane Hermine) and Nassau was getting rain and thunderstorms which nearly completely shut the airport down for most of the day. My bags were packed and I was anxiously awaiting a phone call to let me know that someone was on their way.
The phone never rang.
Tuesday morning....I wanna go home. There's nothing like being stuck on a remote island when you don't want to be, and feeling like a stranded castaway. I had been living out of my suitcase for several days. Packing and unpacking was starting to get old. I couldn't find anything within my bags and ended up just tearing them apart. I was getting more and more anxious. I don't do well with moving to begin with, but this was turning into a sick joke. The weather had cleared, but one charter company refused to take us because he didn't want dog hair on his airplane seats. Another charter company hadn't gotten paid by our office in over a month so he wasn't interested in doing any more flights until he saw some cash. By Tuesday afternoon and I started to have a meltdown. All I wanted to do was get off the rock. I told Mark that if I had to spend one more night on that island, his life would be pretty miserable. He made a final phone call and to my delight, we had a ride!
Our old charter friend Troy came to save the day. We have known Troy for many years now, and he's one of the guys that takes great care of his plane and has years of flying experience under his belt, so I'm always happy to hop in his plane.
As we wrapped up the rest of our belongings and packed them into the Polaris, we did a double take at the amount of stuff we still had remaining. Luggage, food items, dogs, dog beds, pillows and a 55" television. We hoped and prayed it would all fit in his Piper Aztec. He arrived and literally laughed at the amount of stuff we had, asking if we were serious. Yes, we confirmed, we were serious. We started loading his plane. Cargo holds packed full, two dogs in the back seats and a 55" television wedged between the seats next to me and we were on our way.
I watched a documentary recently about a tribe in northern Africa and they mentioned that this certain group of tribal people never accumulate more belongings that can fit on the back of a camel. I think my motto should be that I never accumulate more than can fit in a Piper Aztec. At least when moving.
In any case, it's good to be home.