Dominating Hope Town harbor and village is its signature candy-striped lighthouse, an edifice first constructed in the teeth of opposition by local inhabitants. Always a resourceful lot, islanders were at the time profitably employed in the dubious business of wrecking, capitalizing on the many craft that were swept up on the lethal outer barrier reefs. As the presence of a lighthouse would effectively terminate such activities, no one was thrilled at the prospect of having one in the immediate vicinity. They needn't have worried. While the coming of the lighthouse did end wrecking, it ushered in tourism, a business that has been exploiting that charming structure ever since.
Today, Hope Town's lighthouse must be one of the most photographed and visited in the world. In addition to its distinctive candy-striped exterior, it remains one of the few manually operated, kerosene-powered lighthouses still in use, one of two in the Bahamas. A double shift of keepers share the duty of running up and down stairs every few hours around the clock to hand-crank the light mechanism, a formidable task given the one hundred steps up the steep, narrow stairwell. Visitors are welcome to explore the premises, climbing to a magnificent view across the Abaco Triangle of islands. For the intrepid, there's even an outer balcony, reached via a small, low crawlspace, built to the proportions of a midget. No visitor should miss this opportunity to see both the lighthouse in use and its aerial view.
Bessie's Bakery & the Birthday
Years ago, when we first visited Hope Town on our sailboat, Bessie's Bakery reigned supreme, enjoying accolades that traveled from boat to boat. Eulogies honored the fabled bread, the cinnamon buns, the pies. We never made it there, as our boat was already well equipped for baking, something I have enjoyed doing. Subsequent years saw a shift in bakery demographics, from Bessie's (an aging enterprise) to Vernon's, progressively located in the center of town rather than down a small harbor channel, reached only by boat. Bessie's seemed a forgotten enterprise, forgotten, that is, until my birthday.
Having been born in April, I find that my birthday invariably arrives while we're on a trip, a situation that means I never have it in the same country twice. Never, that is, until the Bahamas. Not only would this year experience the first repeat birthday nation, but it was the very town where I had enjoyed a birthday ten years earlier. Back then, Tristan and Colin had been docile little tots with hardly an ambition in the world. Now at the progressive age of fourteen, they wanted full control of my birthday preparations.
Waking on my birthday with a sense of mission, they soon had Kevin in tow, herding him about town in a frenzy of activity. Presents were bought, treats prepared, decorations made, and a cake sought. A cake, it soon evolved, was asking too much on this of all weekends. Being Easter, there wasn't a cake to be found anywhere, particularly at the overworked Vernon's Bakery. How about special cookies, Kevin suggested, or ice cream, or some other treat. Obstinate to the core, the children pursued a cake, something, as they put it, you could have candles in. By four p.m. panic had set in, with still no cake in sight."What about Bessie's?," Tristan said. Putting out feelers, they learned that the baker there was old, his productivity fitful, the results varied. "Who cares," the boys declared. "Let's go." The dinghy was fetched and off they all went, all of this totally unknown to me.
Arriving at the private dock located up a creek, they proceeded up to the house to be greeted by an ancient man, a man who looked as though baking had been beyond his capabilities for years. "Do you have any cake?" the boys asked hopefully.
"No," he quavered, his voice barely audible. "Just some bread." A gnarled hand reached across the table to reveal a handful of white loaves resting under a dish cloth.
"What about something sweet," they continued, still on a wave of optimism. "It's for a birthday."
"I bake pies in the morning," he replied, after a thoughtful pause. The boys were crestfallen, explaining that the birthday was that evening. Without a moment's hesitation he began reaching for pie plate and oleo stick, leaping into action like a man half his age.
"Come back in an hour," he shot at them as they retreated from the onslaught of culinary activity. Thus was born my birthday Key Lime pie, a delicious concoction begun at five o'clock, finished by six, and devoured by bedtime, a fitting end to another perfect overseas birthday.
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from Away.com
