We have just arrived in Bimini, Bahamas by sailboat, and I am jonesing for a fix. Jittery and impatient, I sling the paperwork at Jeff so he can check us in at immigration and hurry to the BTC office to get a SIM card for my computer.

“Lunch first?” he suggests.

If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man. He’s off the boat in a flash.

When we left Key Biscayne, FL, we specifically chose to clear customs in Bimini, since they have a BTC phone office on the island.

Following a speedy clearance at immigration, Jeff waits 45 minutes for the BTC people to return from lunch. When the door is unlocked, Jeff steps up to the counter in front of the 7 others that knew about the lunch hours.

“No SIM cards. Next!” BTC lady snaps.

“But…”

She directs him to try another island, a days sail away.

“Do they have SIM cards??”

“Yes. They should. Yes.” BTC lady assures him.

“Would you mind calling? Hate to sail all that way for nothing.”

Following a brief inquiry, BTC Lady reassures him that there are, indeed, SIM cards in the Chub Cay BTC office.

Eager to get hooked up, we rest for an hour and set sail for my LifeLink

We arrive at Chub Cay the next morning and go, once again, in search of SIM.The problem is, there are no SIM cards here. There is no BTC office here. There is NOTHING here.  The nice lady at the empty resort suggest we go to Nassau, New Providence, a city we planned to avoid.

With nothing to do but spend the night, we are up at dawn to make our way to West Bay, a safe harbor on the opposite side of New providence from Nassau. A front is forecast for  tomorrow, and we need to tuck in sooner than later.

Fortunately, I find a reference in Active Captain, to a BTC office about 10 miles from our anchorage. We leave the dogs safetly on board Kismet, and take a rough dinghy ride to shore, then start walking toward the BTC office. Surely we’ll see a bus. No way I’m shelling out $40.00 for a taxi.

After a couple of miles staggering into winds that threaten to throw us in the path of oncoming traffic, I stick out my thumb. A car immediately stops and we jump in.

He says little. He listens to a deafening broadcast of fire and brimstone preaching, the kind I have heard all my life living in the Bible Belt. The preacher vehemently condemns  thievery, gluttony, rape and murder. (This is reassuring, right?) 

Jeff, sitting in the front passenger seat, is nodding his head in agreement, practically belting out AMEN and HALLELUJIA, looking like he’s just been saved.

“This guy is very passionate,” Jeff says, pointing to the radio.

“He’s my father,” Driver replies as he lets us out at the door to the BTC office.

Once the SIM is installed and we have secured enough bytes (Kilo? Mega?) for 30 days, we head back to the road. Not ½ mile into our return walk, a car pulls over right in front of us. It’s Driver from earlier. His father has finished evangelizing and now Driver is listening to a reggae station.

His name is Sebastion. He is a messenger and just got off work. He has lived on the Island his entire life. He gives us a little background on the upcoming holiday before letting us out at our dinghy.

His Father may be a passionate, evangelical preacher, but today, Sebastion is our savior.