Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Rain pounded down. Still a hardy group of five - all mounted on identical purple bicycles with balloon tires - pedaled their way down the tarmac of an airport runway. Ears of course were atune to the possible mutter of an approaching airplane at which point the cyclists would have rapidly wheeled off into the grass. Given that a low pressure storm system was passing over Chub Cay, the prospect was unlikely. The planes simply weren't flying. But there were shells to be sought and the group had set forth.
Adventure seemed to be a hallmark of the May trip to Chub Cay, Bahamas, led by Peggy Williams. On arrival at Chub Cay, as the airport bus rounded into the compound area where we'd be staying, Peggy pointed out to the 18 of us the various spots that we might shell. I soon realized these were quite far apart. Solution? Rent a bicycle! Soon a bicycle with balloon tires and a purple frame appeared at our cottage and it wasn't long until several others had identical bicycles as well.
Our first afternoon we began by shelling the large half moon bay that fronts the resort. Visually, this is a stereotypically idyllic tropical scene. The water changed color as the eye moved out from shore to horizon - from the lightest to deepest blue. The shoreline was ringed with palm trees while each end of the bay was formed with typical Bahamian rocks. Opulent yachts and sailboats were at anchor. Would the shelling match the beauty of the setting?
Sure enough, treasures came in this first day. Marc found a triton, Charonia variegata, while lucky Linda brought in a Tellina magna and Jim some fine King Helmets (Cassis tuberosa). Everybody agreed, however, that Barbara had made the finds of the day: three gorgeous live Flame Helmets, Cassis flammea. In a trice, everyone's wish list for the next day had been created. There was only one item on it: Cassis flammea. David 16-year-old David was eager to participate in a night search expedition to get underway. Pleading exhaustion, and asserting that tomorrow in daylight they'd be easy to see and he'd find one, I dropped off to sleep.
Next day, shellers explored the island, marking time until Peggy led the group to an extensive sand bar that came up at low tide. Would anyone else find a "flame"? After swimming across a narrow inlet to gain access to the bar, the hunt was on. It wasn't long until David held his arm up. The first "flame"! Soon almost everyone else had found at least one flame helmet face down in the sand or grass bordering the bar. That is, everyone except me. I trudged up and down, trying to trace a systematic pattern that would ensure that I didn't miss checking out any area. Then - and finally - there it was, face down in the grass, a beautiful clean flame helmet, with a dark orange shield. What more could I want for that day? Nothing, but in fact there was more: Bullia striata, Astraea phoebia, Fasciolaria tulipa, Cassis madigascariensis, Cassis tuberosa, Oliva reticulata, Tellina radiata, Tellina listeri and Chione intapurpurea.
On any shell trip, the morning starts out with energetic statements about the shelling that will be done at night. Marc and I had talked about a moonlight shelling expedition off the ocean beach for the reef shells that come out when it's dark. It was hard to find renewed energy after the busy day and a big dinner at the island restaurant, but soon Marc and I, festooned with snorkel gear and in the moonlight probably looking like refugees from another planet, were on our way. We were stopped on the way by a cheerful man who undoubtedly had enjoyed a few "cold ones" on one of the yachts docked nearby. He wanted to photograph us! We posed and then finally we entered the ocean and made our way out to the reef. It looked promising - there were turnable rocks and sand oases. The surf's wavelets glinted in the full moonlight. But while not too rough to swim safely it was still to roily to scrutinize for under-rock species, and thus we decided to call it a night.
Next day, the agenda was to travel a few miles north to an ocean beach. The bicycle set decided to get a head start and stop not only at the designated spot, but at an area even further north where there was an ocean cut. The area was promising. Sneaking by a waterfront estate we stashed our bikes and clambered over the rocks. Beautiful Asaphis deflorata, in their panorama of yellow, purple and red were stuck between rocks, along with several nerite species, including special black and yellow ones (Purperita pupa) that Peggy had told us to look out for.
Plunging in the water, we searched the bottom as small waves gently heaved us up and down. Here and there were Auger tracks - Terebra hastata and the distinctive orangey Bahamian Terebra dislocata with brown tips. Soon we were back on our bikes riding until we could see water through the trees. We turned off and swarmed onto the beach, where the tide was still going out. On several tempting looking sandbars... nothing! Then, suddenly, Tellina radiata (Sunrise Tellin). Open pairs splayed in the sand caught our hungry eyes. Soon we began finding them everywhere - and absolutely gorgeous. Many were fresh dead and striped with yellow, orange and red, just like the sunrise from which they get their common name. Lacking enough containers to carry mine, I stuffed them into the front of my skin suit and affirmed one of my "laws of shelling" - that the number of collecting receptacles available is inversely proportional to the number of shells found.
That evening, "Shell and Tell" was dominated by the two sisters, Linda and Joy, who had explored the non-ocean shoreline that day and had come across literally a gold-mine of Goldmouth Tritons, Cymatium nicobaricum. They were big - bigger than any I've ever seen. They were alive, and they were stunning - the apertures were deep, rich orange. There were also some Cymatium muricinum.
Just as "Flame Fever" had swept through the group like a fire in a dry field the first day, so did another hunger descend. The "Goldmouth Rush" was on!
Next day, soon as we knew the tide was well on its way out, our intrepid group set out again, this time to try to find the spot where the tritons had been found. Pedaling north of the runway, still pelted by the rain, we finally found a place to park and made our way out to the beach. We looked in the sand. We looked in the rocks. We looked in the mangroves. Numerous Tulips were found stuck in the mangrove roots, but only a few scruffy dead Goldmouths had been retrieved. Finally we turned around and made our way back to the bottle Marc had stuck in the sand to mark our entrance spot. "Let's go a bit further," I suggested. So we trudged along, past this iron rock and into another type of terrain that was rocky and studded with sand pools.
Once again David was the first to find the treasure we sought: a live Goldmouth! Soon I had found a couple, and with each of us finally in possession of a fine shell or two, we returned, tired but with that special contentedness felt by shell collectors who work hard, almost give up, but then find what they had been wishing for. Certainly mention needs to be made of the other shells found here: more colorful Asaphis deflorata; Latirus infundibulum, and a fascinating bicolor Fasciolaria tulipa found by Marc.
When not otherwise embarked on an adventure, we continued to go back into beautiful Club Beach. Fine shells were found there by snorkeling. In the sand were live olives, Oliva reticularis. In the grass were live Tulips (Fasciolaria tulipa) and my roommate Nancy found a gorgeous large darkly banded one. Up on the rocks were Pecten ornata, Pecten sentis, Trivia pedicula, Mitra barbadensis, Mitra puella, and Mitra nodulosum. In the water were Polinices luteum, Laevicardium laevigatum, Astraea phoebia, Strombus costatus, and Strombus raninus - to name a few.
When underwater the visibility was so clear that it looked as if you were submerged in a huge bathtub. You could see around you for the length of a football field.
There were many other finds: Murex pomum, Murex florifer, Tellina fausta, Strombus gigas, Nerita peloronta, Prunum carneum, Cypraea cinerea, Purpura patula, Pyramidella dolabrata, Fenimorea fucata, Murex mcgintyi, Latirus infundibulum, Favartia cellulosum, Conus jaspideus, Conus verrucosus, Natica canrena and the Caribbean Carrier Shell, Xenophora conchyliophora. To top things off, Peggy found an interesting bivalve, a Strigilla species.
Each day was filled with fun and adventure followed by our gathering for the evening in the bar for a cool tropical drink before dinner in the resort restaurant. I enjoyed hearing Margaret's delightful Scots brogue among the chatter. After dinner, we'd drift back to our cottages, talk about going night shelling and, except for Al who actually did go out in the middle of the night, happy and spent, drop off to sleep.
On our last day, we sadly turned in our trusty bicycles, packed up our shells - leaving of course the tell-tale line of discards in front of the cottages that indicate to the next occupants that shellers preceded them - and flew back home.