Looking across Nassau harbour on most clear sunny days from the patio of a home on eastern road tends to produce serene feelings of complete harmony with Mother Nature. Crystal clear waters, the easy ebb and flow of waves upon the rocks, the warm Bahamian sun on your shoulders: the scene could be scripted for a movie.


Unless, of course, if you have a 30-foot abandoned Haitian sloop bobbing right in front of you in the water!

Then the movie turns into some surreal cinematic epic, like Bill And Ted's Excellent Adventure in the Bahamas, or From Haiti With Love.


Anchored to the sea floor by Bahamian officials until they find time to move it, the vessel sits just yards off the patio, fully intact but deserted. Like trying to ignore the proverbial elephant at the dinner party, you can't seem to take your eyes off it, ever expecting that someone will emerge from the darkened lower hold and spit some verbiage at you that you'll be expected to understand.


You want to be ready for anything, but nothing happens. The boat just bobs up and down on the waves, all the activity having taken place many hours earlier. The mast, boom, and tiller--all crudely fashioned from tree branches--creak every so often under the pressure of the tide.

Very strange, this paradise we live in.