Nutmeg and Mace: Grenada’s most well-known export.

Grenada: January 29-Febuary 10

nightwatch on passage to Grenada

After our sad goodbyes to Dominica and our long passage to Grenada, we were in need of a moment to collect ourselves.  We pulled into Prickly Bay, on the southwest coast of Grenada.  It is a large harbor, full of boats, and we could see many swanky new houses, restaurants, and marinas along the shore.  It was a far cry from our quiet little Portsmouth, but we didn’t lament.  We have the traveling spirit now, so we were excited to see what the Spice Island had in store for us.

looking for a good spot to anchor

We did our usual routine to anchor.  We scoped out the harbor and looked for a nice large spot in adequate depth.  Chris drives the boat while I handle the ground tackle on the bow.  When Chris and I agree on a spot, I lower the anchor.  I usually let out five times as much chain as the depth to the bottom.  For example, if we anchor in 15 feet of water, I let out 75 feet of chain.  There are many factors that might change that ratio, but we use that rule as a starting point.

The snubber and the backup snubber attached to our anchor chain and run up to the bow cleat.

Then I attach a snubber, also called a bridle.  This is a metal fitting that slips over one of the links in the anchor chain.  It has a line (rope) attached to each side.  One line is secured to our port cleat and the other is secured to the starboard cleat.  The snubber relieves the pressure on our windlass, which is the electrical device that lets out and pulls up the chain and anchor.  The full weight of our 47-foot boat is pulling against that chain.

The anchor locker is open to show the windlass. Chris swims out to our anchor bouy, which floats directly above our anchor.

Chris allows the wind to settle the boat and then backs down hard on the anchor to set it into the sand/grass/mud.  Finally comes the fun part.  I always chuckle when I think about how my “job” is literally to “go swimming”.  After we are all settled, one of us dons a mask and “dives on the anchor” to get a visual confirmation that it is dug deeply into the bottom.

One Bowl Meals are quick and easy on a rough passage

It took us a few hours to rest and clean up the boat from our passage.  While underway and especially while sailing at night, it is difficult to keep the boat tidy.  Food is prepared quickly.  Jackets, flashlights, lifejackets, and seaboots are taken on and off throughout the passage and thrown willy nilly wherever they land.  The boat bounces around so much that even brushing our teeth is a (messy) adventure.  Whenever we finish a passage, it takes at least two hours to get Patronus back in shipshape.

Reese helps to pull in the fishing gear.

Chris usually takes care of the topsides.  He gives the boat a fresh water wash, especially the clear vinyl windows on our dodger, which can erode to a nasty haze with too much salt water (who designed that?  windows.  on a boat.  that can’t get SALT WATER on them?!).  He coils up the lines, puts away the fishing gear, hoses down the cockpit (which has tummy-settling pretzel bits all over it), and sets up the dinghy.  While underway, we pull the dinghy behind us.  The outboard engine is taken off and secured to the stern railing and the gas tank is stored in a compartment in the swim platform.

Porter lounges underway.

I take care of down below.  I make the beds, gather dirty laundry, hang up wet clothing, do the dishes, and wipe down the tables and counters.  We have a few items that must be stowed while underway so they don’t fly around the cabin.  I take a moment to set those up again.  We have a beautiful tray that our friends, the Cecalas, gave to us and I like to have that on the dinette table.  I put the picture frames back up in the stateroom and unhook the bungee cords that keep the printer and books from flying off their shelves.  When it is especially rough, I move the cutting boards and collanders from the open shelf under the oven and put them on the floor in Reese’s room.

We raise our Grenada courtesy flag.

Reese is in charge of the flags.  She raises the courtesy flag for the country we are in along with the yellow “Q” flag, which stands for Quarantine.  This flag must be flown when we enter a new country until we clear customs and immigration.  She also raises our burgees, which include our Salty Dawg Rally banner, our Ocean Crusing Club flag, our yacht club flags, and our Seven Seas Sailing Association flag.  These burgees alert other cruisers to our affiliations and open the door for a dinghy drive-by and a nice hello.

The kids hang up the foul weather gear and store the adult lifejackets, which is a lot harder than it sounds.  They also tidy their rooms and help to hang wet clothing.  They rinse off, change into clean clothes, and brush their teeth.  Bryson assists Chris with the dinghy and might pump up the paddle board and kayak.  Then they take out their schoolbooks.  It is usually too rough to do schoolwork while the boat is moving, so I get them back on track right away.

On the day we arrived in Grenada, we finished our cleanup, took a deep breath, and readied ourselves for a new country and a new experience.  We had made it to our southernmost destination!  But first, we had to clear into customs and immigration.  Wendy and I took the dinghy in and found the customs office in the upstairs of a small white building.  Finding customs is sometimes half the battle, so we were already feeling successful.  Customs and Immigration officers run the gamut from “extremely friendly and helpful” to “seriously disgruntled”.  We entered the building and heard, “Welcome to Grenada!!!”  Good sign.

We began the task of filling out our paperwork.  If you have ever flown internationally, you know the skinny immigration forms that you fill out on the plane before you land.  We fill out forms like that, designed for maritime use.  They ask all kinds of additional boating related questions.  Every country is different.  Some have one form.  Some have up to six forms.  Questions cover the basics, like:

Captain name, address

Boat name, type, size, beam, and draft (how deep the boat is in the water)

Previous port and next country of destination

Engine type and horsepower.

How many pets, bottles of liquor and firearms are on board.

Names, birthdates, nationalities, and passport numbers of all crew.

Every once in a while, we are stumped by a vague and badly-worded question, but the officers are usually helpful.  While Wendy and I filled out our forms, the Head Customs Guy came in and had a lively, ribbing conversation with the officer.  It seems the officer raises chickens at home and had brought fresh eggs in for his manager.  The manager was complaining that the eggs were too small.  It’s nice to see that chop-busting is alive and well below the Tropic of Cancer.  After getting our passports stamped and paying all kinds of fees, we were off to check out the scene.  All we found was a tiny superette.

The moon rises over the sea on our passage to Grenada.

We spent a few days in Prickly Bay, catching up on schoolwork, walking into town, and hanging out on the beach.  Wendy and I went on a wild goose chase to find fresh meat at a place that was mentioned in our guide book.  We found it, but the supply boat wasn’t bringing new inventory for another week.  Instead, the manager sat down with us and gave us several tips on what to do in Grenada, including visiting Merry’s Bakery in Port Louis.  We were hoping to do a Hash in Grenada, but the woman had never done it and didn’t know anyone who had.  Hmm.  More about that later.  Back on the beach with the boys, Reese got stung by a jellyfish, but it wasn’t that bad.  On the day we left, Reese took her friendship bracelets off and left them on her boogie board so they wouldn’t get wet.  Remember that.

 We came out to see the world,

but we ended up making friends with it.

After two weeks, we take down our Dominica courtesy flag…

Note: While this is a family friendly website, in this post, some content may not be suitable for younger readers.  What that means, is that if you only read ONE of our posts on Dominica, this is the one!

We were heading into our last weekend in Dominica.  We had vowed to stay until the opening of Carnival season and seriously considered staying until actual Carnival, which wasn’t for another three weeks.  We went out with a bang, with one fun party after another for days.  At the end of this post, for yes, this is the final Dominica post, I think you will agree that we made the most of every precious moment on The Nature Island.

Day 10, and we’re not even thinking about leaving.

The next day, we visited CALLS, and I had my “Angelina Jolie moment”.  CALLS is the Center Where Adolescents Learn to Love and Serve.  It is a school for teens who have dropped out of high school for various reasons and need a second chance.  We heard about the school from Martin, one of the PAYS guys.  Stan the Man’s wife, Joanne, works there.  Wendy and I walked over with the children and introduced ourselves to the principal, who gave us a tour.  The teens take academic classes as well as learning skills, such as woodshop, art, and childcare.  We made a donation to this great school from the money we raised back at home (thank you to our wonderful community of friends, coworkers, and schoolmates!).  If anyone is looking to support a school like this, get in touch with me.  They only have enough funds to last two more years…

The kids eat up the babies at the daycare.

Our kids were especially eager to see the childcare area, which serves the community children as well as children of the students.  Our kids took off their shoes and jumped right in to play with the kids.  It was lunchtime, so they helped feed yogurt to the little ones while Wendy and I took turns holding the itty bitty baby who was there.  Before we left, we arranged to have the children come back the next day to volunteer in the daycare room.  We weren’t 100% sure that it would be a help or a hindrance, but they were keen to return and we were keen to have an hour to ourselves for the first time in months!

Reese feeds yogurt to one little angel.

Wendy holds the tiniest little peanut.

A Peace Corps volunteer is the woodshop teacher.

The students make bowls out of the shell of the calabash fruit and sell them.

a student paints masks for Carnival

watch out, Angelina. I could get used to holding these little precious children.

Back at the boat, Reese and I somehow found ourselves alone and making lunch.  We sat down together for our poor man’s French lunch, which is cheese, crackers, olives, and whatever veggies we had in the fridge.  It was lovely to sit with her and answer her many questions about what “reasons” a teen might not finish high school.  Uh boy.

I’m not sure what Porter is up to, but he has a detailed list of things to do for the day, including Help Daddy, snacktime, play music, and Play with Olivia.

Craig and Stuff. Friends Forever.

Day 11, We’re getting there.

The next day, January 25^th, the kids volunteered at CALLS.  After dropping them off, Wendy, Craig and I went off to look for lunch.  We ended up at Lydia’s, which is also one of my favorite spots for the Friday night dance party.  Chris stayed back on the boat to work on the head and watch Porter, who didn’t feel like babysitting a bunch of kids, as he so delicately put it.  On our walk through town, we ran into Stuff.  Poor Stuff.  He seems to have a bit of a drug situation going on.  He begs for money and is willing to do literally anything for a few EC: take your garbage, get you some grapefruit, show you the way to customs, etc.  Craig has taken a liking to the fellow.  Today, Stuff has promised that he is off drugs and just needs some money for a Coke.

the crew at The Parakeet.

After the fun time I had the week before, I managed to convince most of the crew to come out for the Friday night street party.  Chris, Wendy, Craig, and I met Titus and went off looking for some fun.  It was just as crazy as the week before.  While standing outside the first bar, checking out the scene, we noticed a man to our right, who was just chilling out by himself, smoking, and looking around while swaying to the music.  Enter, stage left, a petite and energetic young woman, dancing up a storm to the loud reggae music.  She is dressed in a very tight, very bright, flaming red jumpsuit.  She is dancing in the streets, dancing in and out of the bar, dancing all over the place, oblivious to everything around her.  I loved it!  (even though I have a sneaking suspicion that this is how I appear when I dance).  All of a sudden, the quiet man to our right takes the joint out of his mouth, which, by the way, was the size of a cigar, and screams out, “You look like a f&*#@ing popsicle!”, which instantly became one of our favorite catch phrases.  We would see more of Popsicle in the coming days, but we never saw her Fashion Policeman again.  He’s probably still working on that dube.

This is Sugar Daddy. Note the mesh shirt.

I was happy that the Friday Night Dance Party was going so well.  Wendy and I also got to see our friend Sugar Daddy, who we met at Big Papa’s Reggae Night.  He was dressed in his finest mesh tank top and had clearly lost his toothbrush sometime in the last month.  He gave us big hugs and wet kisses on the cheek.  We quickly moved on to the next bar…

At The Parakeet, we all got to admire the artwork on the walls of the restaurant/bar.  If the posters depicting scantily clad women holding beer bottles in a most loving embrace didn’t do it for you, you could check out the hand-painted murals.  One shows a woman leaning over a bench.  The artist has not yet learned to paint clothing, so it was a bit much for a public restaurant, but no one seemed to mind.

I looked up as a man with a joint braided into his goatee walked by.  I thought to myself, “What a clever way to carry your joint around!  Just tie it up in your goatee hair.”  And then I thought to myself, “You have been in the Caribbean waaaaaaay too long.”  It turned out that it was not a joint.  It was one of those white, plastic bunny rabbit barrettes that little girls wear in their hair.  I’m still wishing that it was the other thing.

Ross, which was his name, wanted to dance with Wendy.  “She gets ALL the guys!” I silently complained to myself.  Just kidding.  Forced to choose between Ross, Sugar Daddy, and Stuff, I’m not sure who I would pick.  Not to worry.  When Wendy needed a break, Ross gladly punched my dancecard and swung me around the room.  As I watched the nudie posters stream past my eyes, I noted that even the sketchiest of Dominican men can dance, damn it!

Wendy is unperturbed by our dance partner competition.

Just to get Wendy jealous, I managed to snag a dance with Stafford, who is one of the quieter PAYS guys by day, and apparently a relentless, dancing womanizer by night.  He was all kinds of excited to dance with me, even though he barely came up to my shoulders (or because?).  All I could think about was how he really knows how to barbecue chicken at the Sunday PAYS barbecue.  I searched the room for Chris, but he was outside on the patio, so I grabbed Titus from the bar and danced with him until we could slip outside to join the others.

All in all, it was a successful and memorable Friday night.  And just like I got crepes out of the French, I got dancing out of my Dominicans.

Racing off to Secret Beach with Martin’s boat and our dinghy, Fire Bolt.

Day 12: We’re in like Flynn

If you don’t know where Secret Beach is on Dominica, join the club.  Only us locals know about it or how to get there.  Okay, us cruisers who are tight with the locals.  Martin, Anything Goes’ PAYS guy, was excited to share this special place with us and asked us to join him, Joanne (Stan the Man’s wife), and her kids for the day.  We followed him in our dinghies a good way out of Portsmouth and he pointed out the rock cliffs as we approached.  The cliff looks like a horse with his mouth bent down to drink water from a trough.  It reminded me of the red sculpture on eastern Long Island, which depicts a deer bending down to eat some grass.

the rocks on secret beach look like a horse drinking water.

As we came around the bend, we saw a secluded little beach, tucked away between the cliffs.  It was adorable.  We anchored the dinghies out in the small cove and carried in our bags, lunches, and children over our heads.  The kids played in the sand while we chatted with Martin and Joanne.

Martin showed us a cave in the rocks and told us that you could squeeze into it and get all the way through to the other end, which opened out onto the big harbor.  At first, we were all game.  But Reese and Kate went in with Craig and suddenly screamed.  The waves were at high tide and were crashing into the cave, leaving little space between the water and the top of the cave.  One by one, everyone begged off except for Craig and I.  I’m not sure why I didn’t cave (ugh.  I can’t stand puns.  But I know people who love them, so I couldn’t resist that one.).  I am not one for scary adventures, but it seemed like a one-time opportunity.  It’s not like Martin would suggest something dangerous, right?

Wendy and Craig climbing towards the cave.

Craig and I grabbed our masks and snorkels and picked our way over the sharp rocks to the cave entrance.  Once inside, we had to get down on our bellies and crawl through a tunnel that was filled with water.  We had about 12 inches of air between the water and the tunnel ceiling.  I felt like a Navy Seal.  I stayed close to Craig’s heels.  He called back and told me to look under the water.  He saw a lobster or something.  I put my face under and freaked out a little bit.  It was a whole little world down there, with fish and creepy crevices.  It was also a tiny space and I was inches from all of this underwater activity with nowhere to go if I suddenly saw this lobster or whatever it was.  Backing up didn’t seem like a possibility, so I went on.

I saw Craig stand up in front of me and realized the tunnel had ended.  We were in a dark, circular room within the cave.  It was about 20 feet in diameter and 20 feet high.  It was really, really cool.  For about 4 seconds.  That’s when Craig heard a chirping noise and looked up.  He shined his flashlight on the ceiling, looked at me, and whispered, “b-a-t-s”.  I said goodbye to the magical, cute room and looked up.  I followed the beam of my flashlight and saw hundreds, if not thousands of bats, all fluttering and squirming and shaking and vibrating as they clung to the ceiling.

“Ok!  All done!” I said to Craig as I practically knocked him over heading for the crack of light on the far side of the once-cute, now bat-infested caveroom.  We made for the exit and found ourselves standing on some big rocks that were submerged in 2 feet of water.  In front of us were many other large rocks, some jutting out of the water.  The waves were crashing into the cave entrance every few seconds with a violent thrust.  Just beyond the breaking waves was the reef.  We would have only a few seconds to swim against the incoming waves, between crashers, to get past all those rocks.  If a wave came while we were still swimming in the entrance, it would pummel us against the rocks.

Just as we were calculating how to get out, I looked down and saw sea urchins just below the surface.  They were all over the rocks we were standing on as well as the ones we had to walk out over to get out of the cave.  In addition to these spiny, stinging creatures, there were some primitive sea creatures clinging to the rocks that looked like a cross between a miniature armadillo and a beetle.  Excellent.  I looked at Craig and said, “I’m going back the way we came in.”  I turned and got a glimpse of the bats and then I remembered the creepy tunnel.  I turned back again and said, “Okay.  We can do this.”

Craig was fearless.  He said, “I’m just going to go for it.”  I screamed and told him to wait.  If he got hurt, who was going to help me get out?  Just kidding.  I kept sticking my head under the water between waves to size up the rocks and figure out where I could step.  Craig took one big breath and jumped in on the ebb of a wave and started swimming like crazy.  I saw his arm scrape up against the rocks on the left and prepared myself for some bodily damage.

The kids opt to stay on the beach and play.

I would have stayed there all day mustering up the courage to jump in, but keep in mind the bats behind me, which I couldn’t keep an eye on, the sea urchins under my feet, just waiting for me to slip sideways on the rocks, and the dinosaur bugs on the rocks where I needed to put my hands for balance.  No time to waste.  I made the shallowest dive I could and hoped I could swim fast enough to clear the entrance before the next wave hit.  It went surprisingly well and soon I caught up to Craig.  Our fear (he HAD to be a little afraid) was quickly replaced by, “How cool was THAT???!!!!” and we snorkeled our way back around to the Secret Beach.

I’m too much of a baby to jump off a cliff into the water, but I saved some face by exploring that cave.  I still feel like kind of a hotshot.  Craig, and Wendy, who did it later that day, will attest that it was every bit as freaky as I have described it.  No literary license here.  And I will attest that my spelunking days are officially over.

One Love on Patronus with Wendy, Titus, & Callie

Our time in Dominica couldn’t end without having one last party with all our new friends.  So that night, Wendy and Craig, Christine and Bob (from Virginia Dare), Titus, Eddison, Ken G (who never goes on boats!), Cosmo, and Callie came over to Patronus for a farewell sundowner.  We started down below, showing the guys around, and then made our way to the cockpit so we could enjoy the sunset.  We listened to reggae music, talked about our adventures, learned more about each of our friends (except for the quiet Callie and Cosmo), and toasted the beauty of Portsmouth.  We ended the night with promises to return to Dominica someday and invitations to visit us in New Jersey and Texas should they ever find themselves in the US.

friends forever

the guys relax aboard Patronus after a long day at work

Eddison, Bob, Craig, and Ken G

It was a night of perfect balance and connections of our hearts.  It was bittersweet, because we all knew our time left together was short, but we didn’t dwell on that because we were fully enjoying each other’s company in the moment.  I will never forget the laughter, the stories, and the closeness that I felt with each of those precious people that night.  With tears in my eyes as I write this, I remember that I left part of my heart in Dominica that night.

Breakfast from Callie!

Our Last Day in Dominica:

Sweet, quiet Callie.  The night before, we spent some time talking about the food on Dominica.  We love how no one could possibly go hungry on this lush, fertile island.  Fresh food abounds and all the other kinds of food are hard to get or expensive.  Hmmm.  I wonder why the oldest living woman for years was from Dominica?  The guys had told us how all children, both boys and girls, are taught to cook fresh foods from scratch.  The next morning, Callie proved it.  Titus arrived with a picnic basket filled with breakfast for 12.  We called over on the VHF to Anything Goes and Virginia Dare and told them to come aboard!  Together, we enjoyed salted cod, salad, breadfruit, papaya juice, and chocolate tea.  We imagined starting our days with this gorgeous burst of life-giving food each day.  This was a gift that could not be repaid.  It was Callie sharing his life, his island, and his heritage with us.

the kids enjoying breakfast

dusting off our late night on Patronus

While we wait out a sudden downpour in Blue Bay, this little guy uses the runoff from the gutters to take a shower. So cute!

We were certainly leaving Dominica with a bang.  The last few days had been wonderful in so many ways.  But we were about to experience some of the best Dominica has to offer.  Carnival season was opening on our last day.  We couldn’t be there for actual Carnival, but we had heard that the season-opening festivities could be just as much fun. We got our boats ready for our passage after breakfast and provisioned for our trip to Grenada.  In the afternoon, we all met at Blue Bay to head into town for the jump up (parade.  Sort of.)

Porter and Olivia polish off the popcorn while we wait for the parade.

We weren’t sure what to expect, but we were pumped up and ready for it.  We found a good spot in town to watch what we thought was a parade.  We waited and waited.  We drank beer, bought popcorn for the kids, and took pictures of some people dressed in costumes.  We saw a lot of people we knew, which made us feel less like tourists and more like old friends.  Finally, right on time (on “island time”, which means hours after they say it’s going to start), we saw a parade coming our way from far up the street.  There were a few cars/floats and a few people on stilts in sparkly costumes.

jumbies

We are not here to watch. We are here to party!

Then, out of nowhere, came Russ.  Remember Russ, from the Friday Night Street Party?  Russ saw Wendy and I and grabbed our hands.  He pulled us onto the street, which was now filled with very loud calypso music.  He took off his football helmet (don’t ask) and put it on my head.  He then took off his sweaty white tank top and put it around Wendy’s shoulder’s.  In the pictures, she and I don’t seem to have registered these two bits of information.  Perhaps the music was too loud.  We just danced away down the street with Ross.  In the middle of the parade.  Going the OPPOSITE DIRECTION of the parade.  I swear, just for the fun of it, I’m going to try that back at home in one of our “very serious” parades.  Just to see what people do.  Because in Dominica, no one even noticed.  Not one person.  We were just part of the scene.

Reese and Kate dancing down the street

jumping up after the music truck

Eventually, we started walking with the parade and got back to where everyone else was still standing, waiting for us.  Behind us was The Truck.  This truck was like a tractor trailer with the sides cut out.  On the roof of the truck was a man with a microphone, singing.  Inside the truck was a whole band and all their equipment.  Oh.  And more speakers than you ever imagined.  Go ahead.  Imagine a whole bunch of speakers on a semi.  Nope.  Not even close.  We are talking a lot of speakers.  The whole ground was thumping and shaking.  You felt the music more than you heard it.

Great pic of Bob and Christine from s/v Virginia Dare

Olivia falls asleep, still pumping her arms to the music.

having the time of our lives

Apparently, the “parade” is made up of everyone waiting for the truck to pass by and then they follow behind it, doing a cross between walking and dancing.  It’s hard to do, but we all got the hang of it after a few blocks.  The atmosphere was festive and fun.  Everyone was out to have a great time.  There were lots of people drinking, but it wasn’t over the top.  There were old and young people, white and black people, well-dressed folks and some with skimpy little costumes.  Everyone was loving the calypso music, including us.  We felt like we were a part of the celebration, not just watching “from the sidelines”.  It was joyous and uplifting.

Maggie, Bryson, and Russ

Patronus and Anything Goes do Carnival.

There’s Joanne against the yellow wall!

As we walked, we saw friends and acquaintances that we had made.  We saw the Minister of Tourism, with whom we hung out at the PAYS barbecue.  We passed by Joanne and her kids (from Secret Beach), who were leaning against a doorway, watching the parade go by.  We saw Lydia when we popped into her restaurant for a pit stop.  We saw some women we met at the beach, whose husbands go to Ross University, the medical school on Dominica.  We even saw Popsicle, dancing up a storm as usual.  We saw Titus and Eddison.  And we saw Ken G.  There were thousands of people at Carnival that day, but Portsmouth felt cozy and comfortable.  Like home.

After a fun dinner with Ken G and Anything Goes, we reluctantly made our way back to Blue Bay for the last time.  We lingered on the beach in front of the dinghy dock, not willing to step off the island for good.  All the PAYS guys were still off gallivanting in town at the post-parade street party.  There was no one to say good-bye to, so we nailed our boat cards to the wood table and made a heart of sand surrounding them.  I scooped up a handful of sand to take with us as a memory of our time in Dominica.  “We’ll be back,” I whispered, as I stepped into the dinghy, holding a very tired Porter in my lap.