Turnaround Time

Hi Everyone,

We reached the end of the Caribbean island chain at just about the 1/2 way point of our allotted time. 12 degrees N latitude, the very southern coast of Grenada. The south coast of Grenada is a series of deep bays, some of them virtually uninhabited except for cows and goats. We intend to kill 3 weeks sampling most of them because we are frankly tired of sailing after 600 miles of Caribbean waves and wind. Our friends and cruising mentors on Aquilla waited for us in Grenada and we got to spend a week with them before uncerimoniously shoving them off for the South Pacific and New Zealand.

OK, that's enough from me. Karen, Matt and Danie want to tell you about Grenada, our favorite island to date.

The Grenada Sailing Festival Native Boat Regatta...by Matt (age 12)

It was a Sunday and Dad wanted to see the Native Boats race. So Ken, Janet and us Calvins walked the 2 miles down to the bus stop. We got lucky when we were picked up by a bus with just the driver and his son in it so he could take us right up to the beach where the regatta was being held. You could imediatly tell that this was a big deal. There were Coca-Cola tents as far down the beach as you could see and there was a stage set up for a band with towers of speakers of unusual size. There were tons of people there (mostly locals). There were groups of teams wearing team shirts and the leaders of each team were giving pep talks and trash tallking about the other teams.

We quickly walked past all of this commotion to the less crowded part of the beach where the boats were lined up. They were all very nice looking boats and you could tell that they were divided into 3 classes. The boat that there was the most of looked like the slowest and smallest. We looked at these for a while with my Dad saying how much better he could make the sails. We decided which was our favorite boat, my Dad got the camera out of the backpack, squatted down, waited for some tourists to get out of the picture and..."We're out of film, guys." DOPE! We will have to live without the pictures.

We then walked down the beach to where the bigger boats were. My Dad and Ken started asking the owners about the boats and the rules. They got out of it that the boats had to be plywood, 22 feet max length and a maximum height of the mast but other than that, anything goes. We all made a plan to come back next year with a boat that will beat them by so much it will be scary.

The boats all have cool paint jobs and names like "Torpedo", "Blue Devil" and so on. Then we heard the anouncer on the loudspeaker say, "10 minutes until the start of the Grenada Junior Championship" so it was back into the crowded area.

When we got to the starting area each of the 4 teams (all from differant towns) were picking out which boats they would race. I couldn't figure out which boat belonged to who but I think every team brings a boat and then they have a drawing to pick which one they will use. They dragged the boats into the water with the help of the crowds. The skippers put the rudders in. There were 4 crew per boat, 2 of them in the boat, one holding the boat and the 4th is the runner who waits at the starting and finishing line, up on the beach. When they blow the start gun the runner runs down the beach (hence the name) and he and the holder push the boat as hard as they can and jump in.

During the race there is an announcer who broadcasts the whole race verbally for those who can't see over the crowd. The people on shore were really into it. When the boats were rounding the marks they were jumping and screaming. One of the boats won the race and started celebrating but when the 2nd place boat got to the beach the crew jumped out and ran over to the winners and started a brawl. Alot of the crowd got into it too. It turned out that the winning boat only had 3 crew so the protest committee called for a "REDO" since it was the junior championships. The REDO race was much closer and ended with the first 2 boats sculling while neck and neck heading for the finish line. The boat that won the first race came in last in the second race.

So there is Caribbean boat racing for you.

The Seven Sisters Falls by Dani (age 13)

The Seven Sisters Falls hike was an all day adventure, and fun the whole way. After walking the 2 miles to the roundabout we caught a bus to St Georges and then a second bus, with a driver who I could have sworn was no more than a year older than me, to take us up to the start of the trail. After a hundred hairpin turns on a fairly crowded bus, and a little walking, we reached a shack. There was no one there but there was a stack of different-length walking sticks, all smoothed and leaning neatly against a wall. Matt and I imediately grabbed the best ones. Dad and Ken hesitated, maybe they think hiking sticks are for woosies.

And so the hiking begins. Up and down hills collecting nutmeg shells and hoarding them in our pockets. While still on the well-marked part of the trail we met two frighteningly starving dogs, looking at us with sorry eyes. We dwelled on the 2 spare sandwiches we had packed but Dad said we should move on and give them whatever is left on the way out.

The trails are made of mud and, since it just rained, Dad and Ken are starting to admit that maybe the sticks are a pretty good idea. We reached the first waterfall, and seeing it was filled with yet another group of half-naked French people we walked silently past and continued on to the next event. Almost immediately after we passed that first pool we approached what looked like a completely vertical ladder made up of tree roots, going up a cliff about 100 feet high. Each step up involved stabbing the earth on the level above you with your stick and heaving your body up. One boost with your leg and one huge pull with your arms.

As we hiked, the path was getting thicker and we often came to 3- or 4-way forks. Using our best collective intelligence, we guessed. With each guess we knew that the path we took could be nothing more than a little stripe where the endless rainforest drains. We eventually scrambled down into the river and jumped from rock to rock over fast running water for 45 minutes. Then we decided that it was turnaround time so we had some lunch and headed back.

Climbing back down the tree root ladder was a bit more of an adventure than we were looking for but we made it and visited the first 2 waterfalls and pools. While swimming we were accompanied by a small British group, who sat at the top of the pools smoking cigarettes. Nice.

We made our way down to the beginning and washed our feet and returned the walking sticks. The adults started to talk with the woman who lived there. The woman collects nutmeg for a living. Janet was smart and had put her nutmeg in her pocket. Mom had hers in her hand and the lady scolded her and took it away from her. We fed the starving dogs a sandwich and some leftover bread and they followed us to the road where the bus would pick us up.

After waiting by the road for awhile a bus stopped. When the door opened we saw that the bus was completly full so we said thanks, we will get the next one. But they basically forced the 6 of us into the already full bus/minivan and I was wedged between two really big guys for the 30 minute ride down the mountain.

Karen (Mom)

For me, the most challenging part of our trip has been simply dealing with the food. I would give anything for an upright refrigerator and freezer. Ah, the easy life...being able to go to BJ's or Stop and Shop and load the entire back of my SUV with 3 weeks of groceries(Dan says I bought a 4X4 just to make sure I could battle through the rough terrain of Newport and bring home the groceries, in any weather). Then I could empty the truck directly into my ultra large pantry and 2 refrigerator/freezers. Calvin has about 6.5 cubic feet of top loading refrigerated space, and no freezer. So I shop for a couple of days at a time.

Another problem is how much of a sucker I am when it comes to dealing with people. Most of the people shopping in the open air markets in Grenada are not as friendly as I am. I feel as though I must stop and see what each one of these nice people have to offer, even while I am being pulled along by my friends and family. "Oh God, she stopped again." "Hey, don't buy that!" This coming from the people who are magically fed 3 times a day.

The open air markets are pretty fun here in Grenada. There is an area as big as Brick Market Place in Newport, filled with tables and big, colorful umbrellas. Locals bring fresh vegetables and spices (Grenada is the Spice Island- locally grown nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, saffron etc.) to the market and charge not very much for their home grown items. I bought 2 lbs of tomatoes for $9EC (about $3.25 US) that were better than any I grew at home, and I felt like a hero for supporting this nice lady. I am told that I could easily bargain a $9EC asking price down to $6-$7EC, but who would really win or lose if I did?

Aside from finding and buying the food, there is the chore of getting to the markets and transporting the food back to wherever Calvin is anchored. Here the day starts at 7:30am in order to get into shore and to the bus stop at 9:00. The buses here are Toyota minivans whose capacity is stretched to carry up to 23 passengers plus the driver and helper who collects the fare. The markets are in St Georges, a busy, colorful and friendly town. Once in St Georges I have to plan the order in which I buy because everything we purchase has to be carried with us to the next markets and eventually back to the bus stop, from the bus to the dinghy dock, and then onto Calvin. Of course, no cardboard can come onto the boat because cardboard is where roaches hide and lay little roach eggs. So all boxed items have to be opened on the dock and the boxes discarded at the nearest dumpster/roach hotel. Once on the boat everything has to be stored in the pitifully small compartment spaces so volume bargains are out of the question.

Simply, I have had to change my food gathering habits to more of a day by day thing, but the Caribbean lifestyle has more than made up for the added hassle. At least I don't have to think about driving conditions or how many coats to wear. I will happily lug the groceries as long as I know I can just jump into this beautiful water to cool off when I get back. But still, as with any of you who are in charge of cooking for more than yourself, the most constant daily stress is WHAT ARE WE GOING TO EAT? Pasta or pasta? We ran out of propane? SHIT. Where is there a restaurant? We need ice. Uh oh, we are completely out of drinks. And there is no more "Annie's Mac-n-Cheese," the only food Matt will eat. They don't have Wheat Thins? How can these people live without Wheat Thins? Then I remind myself that I am where I am the happiest, with the people I love the most. Inconvenienced? Maybe a little. Happy? Yes!