Our 4-day passage to San Salvador ended early Sunday morning when we anchored on the shallow bank off the tiny town of Cockburn Town. We were under sail the whole way but no sooner did we arrive than the trades dissipated, as expected. Since it's an open roadstead we were happy to find it calm and relatively free of swell. One other sailboat was at anchor, hailing from Kentucky.

We had been here once before many years ago, May 1976 to be exact. We'll never forget diving into the crystalline water that the Bahamas are famous for. The pure white sand was littered with thousands of helmet conchs who were evidently on a migratory march. This time we found just one solitary helmet conch, and some rays buried in the sand with just their eyes showing.

We launched the dinghy and beached it in the slight surf, next to the rusting relics of the old town dock that had evidently been destroyed in a hurricane. (Later we realized we could have more easily tied up the dinghy in the small boat marina half a mile up the coast.) A small RO-RO supply ship (roll on, roll off) was just leaving as we arrived, having delivered a few containers to the island. It didn't need a dock to do so, as it simply drove close enough to shore to drop its front gate onto the concrete ramp at the water's edge, so cargo could be driven on and off.

We walked along the beach road about a mile to the airport to clear in with C&I. Luckily we knew in advance about the exorbitant $300 Bahamas Customs fee instituted a few years ago, and had cashed up in St. Thomas. C&I didn't accept credit cards. There was an ATM at the bank we passed, but whether it had cash? We were surprised by the additional $130 Immigration fee, $30 of which was Sunday overtime. The folks on the other yacht at anchor who cleared in elsewhere told us that overtime charges are no longer permitted, and to complain in Nassau. We will! The officials are on duty seven days a week at the airport. The Immigrations official offered us a ride back to town, maybe to justify the fee, but we declined as we needed the exercise after four days at sea.

We could of course have avoided all the recent weekend and holiday charges with better planning, but then again, waiting could have meant missing weather windows.

While we were inside the C&I office, the small Cessna we had walked past was replaced by a large private plane with 12 windows on each side. Two young American men cleared in after us, presumably the pilot and co-pilot, but we saw no other passengers. After rehydrating with sodas at the airport snack bar we returned to town, past the Club Med and the Red Riding Inn & Marina, both dive resorts whose guests fly in with Bahamas Air. White diving buoys lined the drop-off where the shallow aquamarine bank meets the deep blue sea. A handful of sportfisher boats were berthed in the marina, their owners most likely Floridians who commute by private plane.