Jumping Ship

We got into a groove in the last few weeks in Grenada. A cycle of home-schooling torture, boat maintenance, and rum & coke. The kids were happy to be there, with good WiFi and other kids to play with, (or to mope with, as teens do). After four weeks we needed to do something to get out of the trailer park life. Chris and H from Fille de Joi (loosely in English:  Slapper) were a godsend: they very kindly lent me surfboards while Chris returned to Europe to compete in some sailing races.

Surfing was such a treat. The wind and swell that were starting to turn our idyllic anchorage at Secret Harbour into a washing machine were occasionally appearing as small but fun surf in Prickly Bay. (This was probably why many called it Sickly Bay). Ben caught a few and looked good, and Tom and his bestie Harry were unstoppable. It was a very shallow reef, but no one got more than the occasional scratch. One day we had surf that was head high. How the boats anchored there toughed it out I have no idea.

Fortunately there was an opportunity to break up the pattern with a couple trips up north to Caricau. In our last weeks we had a pending buyer’s inspection but managed to get up to Saline Island and Sandy Cay. Sandy Cay is a small strip of coral and sand with seven moorings, and some great views of the sunset. I convinced the boys to come over and collect driftwood and cook sausages on a beach fire for dinner. They resisted mightily but actually had fun. This is the kind of stuff I would have liked to do every night. Perhaps the islands of the Pacific or the Indian Ocean are the last refuges of this kind of beach behaviour, the rest of the world is getting too crowded.

A week or so later we met up with Chris, H, Harry and Lillie, to do the same, and it was much more fun. A fire on the beach to jump in. A local Grenadian couple sold us massive lobsters, which we cooked with garlic butter. Ben tried some and said it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, “sweeter than chicken” but wouldn’t risk more than two mouthfuls. (the last lobster we bought off a skiff nearly killed us – not surprising as it was up a river in Luperon, DR).

Saline Island was pretty special: the two boats, crystal clear water, surf around the corner, white sand, coral, lobsters, and our own castle. We found some lobsters hiding, massive, but when pulled out the water they shrunk immediately to the size of prawns. Strange.

The goodbyes and the last sail home to Secret Harbour made us melancholy. Our usual Mahi-Mahi spot rewarded us again with a fish to cheer us up. (Its about 5 miles south of the underwater volcano spot, the map says “Danger Zone- forbidden” , about level with the top of Grenada).

Once back in Secret Harbour, on a dock, we had just enough time, four days. One day to unload the boat (12 trolleys), The next day was cleaning, and a quick toilet hose replacement and re-bed a genoa turning block, etc etc blah blah. The last two days were spent packing, distributing toys and food and ‘stuff’ to other boats and the Dominica Appeal, with the last evening saved for Drinks and Dinners with Drakkar, Pierina, Naihani, … Utopia, Neptune and Totem. I suddenly didn’t want to go home.