Welcome to Lincolns Islands, Abaco, Bahamas

About Lincoln's Islands!

By Richard Mazziotti
Published and reprinted courtesy of Abaco Life Magazine

Except to point out the seven fishing rods banging about under the Bimini cover, and toss a bag of semi-frozen minnows onto the deck, Lincoln Jones has finished all the direct instruction he is going to give to this group vacationing in Green Turtle Cay. Hoisting himself onto an aft corner of the boat, feet dangling over the side, Lincoln loads his own hook with a fresh minnow or two, and proceeds with a sophisticated, clinic-by-example on how take reef fish.

It's old hat to him. He has been making these daytime fishing and picnicing excursions for many years at Green Turtle Cay. He starts by showing novices how to bait a hook and get it in the water without taking off a neighbor's ear in the process. And by the time we have gotten our lines wet, Lincoln is boating his 5th snapper. Nevertheless, when one of us is lucky enough to get a fish all the way to the boat, it's usually in the eatable 12-15-inch range.

A trip with Lincoln started early in the week with Wally Davies, proprietor of the New Plymouth Inn, who called to make arrangements.

"All sold out Monday and Tuesday?" Wally asks. "Wednesday?" "Okay." Wednesday morning, at the town dock, we meet the smiling and gracious Lincoln Jones. In party shirt, shorts and sandals, he is as neatly and informally turned out as his boat. Six or eight rods stand upright in PVC tubes, rigged and ready.

We stow our own cooler, towels and beach bags and are barely settled before we are roaring off across the harbor, retracing the bubbles from Lincoln's trip in.

After an exhilarating 15-minute boat ride, we arrive at some chosen spot, in the middle of Abaco Sound, that appears no different than any other we have passed. Lincoln's navigational equipment consists of a cataract-eyed marine compass, an old depth finder with disconnected wires, and a set of sparkling eyes belonging to the skipper. He not only knows where this exact fishing spot is, but has another dozen or two spots imprinted on the chart in his head. As he explains it, he lets each "rest" for two weeks or so. It's conservation, Abaco style.

After about an hour, the motor well is starting to overflow with fish so we head off to another spot for a bit of reef snorkeling. Only one or two of us seem willing to get off a perfectly well-functioning boat to swim about in mid-ocean. Lincoln, however, doffs his shorts to reveal a purple bathing suit, and straps on flippers and mask. He assembles some loose rubber, metal and wood parts into a Hawaiian Sling, the only type of spear gun legal in Bahamian waters. In a moment, Lincoln is smoothly over the side looking for, and getting lobsters.

I struggle with borrowed snorkel gear and over I go, trying desperately to avoid an ignominious flop into the sea. With his usual accuracy, Lincoln has anchored us 20 feet off a miniature mountain of coral rising out of the white sand bottom. Pocked with caves and softened with greenery, the reef is aglitter with fish.

After two more brief - but equally beautiful - reef stops, we motor into the half-moon cove where Lincoln has pots and pans stashed along with a couple of very rustic picnic tables.

As our boat grinds to a stop in the sand 10 feet from shore, two stingrays join us, their black undulations unmistakable above the white bottom. They are not necessarily Lincoln's pets, but they seem to be pretty sure that hanging around will soon produce some fine fish scraps for their gastronomic pleasure.

Having been assured by others that stingrays will generally neither sting you nor eat you, especially if you don't step on them, we are soon standing in shallow water enjoying the sight, and the very soft feel of yard-wide stingrays gliding around and between our ankles. The appearance of some four-to-six-foot reef sharks awaiting their share of the soon-to-commence fish-cleaning largess clears the water of all but the bravest waders.

In less than 20 minutes, 30 or so fish are cleaned, filleted and readied for the magic dust of flour and herbs. Lincoln's fire starting technique is wonderfully practical. A lot of dry wood, a cup of gas, a well tossed match and "whooomp!"

Hidden in the bushes, a very large, black kettle makes its appearance and the cooking oil is soon smoking. First in the cooker is a barrel or so of thin-sliced potatoes, dredged in thyme, and dumped snapping and popping into the oil. The fish are soon to follow. Meanwhile another pot is filled with water for lobster tails and set to heating nearby.

The rest of the cooking details, save one, remain secret. The last touch: just before serving fried potatoes with the freshest ever fish and lobster tails, Lincoln takes an empty beer can, snips off the top, pinches in the side, puts in 2-3 sticks of butter, and warms it by the fire. We are unanimously agreed that the taste of Bud Lite-buttered lobster tails and fresh fish is as good as it gets. Within minutes the entire crew is elbow deep in seafood platter and enjoying a jug of freshly made Goombay Smashes, a name which describes the concoction's effect rather than its ingredients.

Lincoln and his reef parties are well known among visitors and natives on Green Turtle Cay, and the trips are a badge of acceptance. For more information and reservations, ask your hotel manager or cottage caretaker, or call Lincoln directly.