Errands and Extremes on Island-Time

I was once asked by a family member who had no idea what cruising life was like, “What do you do all day long…?” I think she was imagining that we sit around drinking margaritas while swinging in a hammock or something, the way it was asked. In many ways it’s a charmed life with occasional adult beverages and hammock swinging; in many ways it’s really hard to live on a boat and turn nomadic with the seasons. But drinking margaritas in a swinging hammock is not what we do all day, at all. Naturally, there’s lots of leisure, life is slowed down living on the water. There’s the actual sailing part, for one. Imagine, we move at 8 knots on a good day. In this part of the world, we’re island-hopping and adventuring in nature for fun. But there are always trade-offs. Days are full of all sorts of activities like running errands, grocery shopping, getting things done, boat projects large and small, and all, on island-time. It’s the experience and the way of getting it all done, that is quite different from typical land-living and especially on islands where we’re clearly not native nor accustomed to their ways of doing things; getting things done simply takes time and sometimes the most mundane can even take days, even weeks and therefore no longer commonly mundane. 

It’s hard to believe that we’ve been back in the Caribbean now for 1.6 years. In December of 2022, we crossed east and then south to Puerto Rico from Abaco Bahamas on a 6.5-day passage that remains most memorable in my mind for both its challenges and then eventually its ease and beauty. It was the longest passage we have done without crew (family or friends) to help along. Eventually after beating into the wind for 3 days we were able to turn and angle the RK downwind and experience truly fair winds and following seas, apart from the intermittent squally conditions, it was absolutely delightful for the second half of the journey and I will remember it fondly for the rest of my life. If that’s all the long passaging I ever do and die tomorrow, I die quite pleased with how we’ve sailed.

Where in our past lives, stopping to talk to soccer moms, other parents in the stadium bleachers, going to PTA fund-raisers, meetings and events for work, and endless driving of our kids around the tri-state area for sports and events was the norm; daily island-encounters are certainly very different encounters. There’s a certain rawness and peculiarity in our day to day and we roll with the waves of the ocean, literally and metaphorically. 

Pretty common as we walk through the streets and move about in the Caribbean in general, is to often hear a lilting Caribbean accent greeting us out of the blue, “Welcomb…” “Ehhnjoy, ehhnjoy… it’s Parahdaheyes” , “You enjoyin’ de country…? Ahhrye, Ahhrye…” On our way to and from our swimming hole we pass along a construction site. On the way back from our swim we got questioned, “good wahtah?” We assured, him, “yes it’s beautiful water.” Another construction worker Rastaman gave us fist bumps and a “Yah, one love”, on our way back from a swim, his hard hat riding very high in the air, over his wrapped up thick dreadlocks. Just the other day when we were walking back to our dinghy a man thanked us for coming to his country, “Tank ya fuh comin…’” Unfortunately, an American cruising couple was brutally murdered a few months ago on their catamaran somewhere in between Grenada and St. Vincent. I imagine as a result, cruisers and other travelers will sadly not come to the Eastern Caribbean. Paul and I have chosen to return to the Caribbean and island-time culture without rancor nor any ill-will for what we may witness or hear about. We take proper precaution wherever we go and try to remain open-hearted. We choose to see the gentleness in the people we meet, the unique, quirky, eccentric, occasionally somewhat unorthodox ways, with both open hearts and minds. In exchange for living on these waters and out of a hurricane zone, we find it is a tradeoff we’re willing to make. Certainly, that most recent incident was quite an exception done by outliers. A cab driver we use frequently expressed how he could have given those violent criminals a piece of his mind (he used more colorful language) for what they’d done for his country’s reputation and was somewhat comforted knowing they received life in prison.

One large project that kept our days very busy since our return to El Carib was getting a new engine installed. After much consideration we decided it was best. I could go into all the reasons why and the kind of engine we were finally able to procure, but that’s a story better left for Capt. Paul. What made the experience worthy of sharing, in my opinion, is how our old engine was taken out and the new one installed. Not just how, but where, particularly. We knew a trusted mechanic that removed and installed our old generator seven years ago and decided to get our engine done with him during our stay in Martinique. He has a new workshop, he explained. He bought a decommissioned ferry and converted it into his workshop/garage, home and a bar/disco, floating in the anchorage. In fact, he named the vessel “Open Bar”. I imagine so that everyone knows his priorities. When instructed we motored out into the St. Anne’s anchorage and strapped up alongside m/v Open Bar and watched our old engine be carefully removed and then the new one carefully installed, all while living on our boat and invited nightly for drinks to the top deck. We politely declined the nightly drinking invites, until the last night. Then there was reason to make a toast and by then a cold beer was very much welcomed.

Apart from our unique engine install we come across lots of situations that by U.S. standards, many would consider not just unorthodox but downright criminal. But here, it’s a way of life. Another example was the morning Paul and I needed to be in two different locations and we only have one dinghy, so Paul arranged a water taxi to take me to yoga that morning. We were in St. Lucia at the time. And as promised, Rastaman Lincoln was aboard his colorful Jah-ride early and waiting to take me. He was having a Rasta Man’s breakfast and I thought nothing of it as the smoke wafted around my head. I climbed aboard and sat up wind. I was going to yoga class, after all. Mind you, if we were going out into open waters, I would have reconsidered altogether, but we put-putted in the lagoon and all was well. We chatted about life, love and his Italian wife, two children and the challenges of his work. Lincoln did not show to pick me up but he responsibly sent a friend, who was told he’d recognize me by the yoga mat I’d be carrying. And he did. Marijuana is both sacred and medicinal to the Rastafarian culture and awareness is ever-growing across the world as to its powerful curative properties. As a cancer survivor, it was marijuana that gave me respite from chemo’s unbearable side effects, not the prescribed meds that made me even sicker.

Recently, we needed to get a piece of plexiglass custom cut for our new engine’s panel on the dashboard at the helm (steering wheel area). First we were told to go to the carénage (boat basin area) downtown and we’d certainly find someone. Then we got more detail and were told to go into Hubbard’s down at the carénage and that they provided the service. Hubbard’s reminds me of the hardware department of Sear’s, if you’ve ever been in one. Hubbard’s did indeed have a glass cutting service, but not plexiglass. The search continued after a kind woman at the information counter gave us directions to another shop and assured us if we got lost to just ask for “John Hood”… anyone would know and be able to help us find him and his shop. Off we were to find Sir Hood and his Merry Men.

Her directions were accurate and Mr. Hood had a well-appointed sign outside his shop. Alas, Mr. Hood could not help us either and gave us more directions to a third destination. “Purcell” could do it, he assured us and though his directions were not as clear, he too assured us that if we asked anyone they could help. What we didn’t understand was if Purcell was a shop, a person, or both… and off we went. 

This time, we did need help finding Purcell and when we asked, we were kindly and correctly pointed in the right direction. This shop did not have a sign from the back entrance that we came in from, but we were able to get where we needed to go just the same. Once we inquired we soon found out that the gentleman that did this specialty work at Purcell’s had gone for the day but the man behind the counter kindly gave us his contact and instructed us to call back. It took a few days just to get in touch via phone.

Since we were in downtown St. George’s we made our way to the fruit and vegetable market and the fish market, where we stocked up. This time we had dinghied to downtown. We can either bus or dinghy and choose depending on weather and what we have to carry with us back and forth. Taking the public bus in Grenada is a trip in and of itself and I could write a whole post on that alone, but in sum, the 90-cent ride gets us around and we feel very safe and grateful for the service… apart from the occasional aggressive driver. Often when we have heavy boat parts or groceries, the conductor on the bus (driver’s assistant) will help us. Even fellow riders have gone out of their way to move over or give us a hand, lifting things into and our of the large van, that acts as a public bus service. It took three trips for the plexiglass cutting project to come to an unsuccessful end. It was not done correctly and Capt. Paul will DIY-it the second time around.

Here in Grenada, when we’re in the marina and need to grocery shop, we dinghy over to Foodland, a small grocery store on the other side of the well-protected bay across from the marina where there’s a dinghy dock for shoppers. Charles sets up camp there and sells whatever fruit he’s picked for the day. He’ll have bananas a variety of citrus, soursop, mangoes, and recently he introduced us to sapodilla (seen above). Usually he sees us coming and helps us with our line. Paul usually stays with him to chat while I shop at Foodland. The last time we saw him, Charles had a huge black eye and scratches on his face, so I stayed to chat as well, after asking him what had happened. 

Charles took off his hat to show us the goose egg on the back of his head that was bandaged at the clinic, the gauze was freshly applied. He went on to tell us about the argument and fist fight he had with a gentleman he was frustrated with. Apparently the guy was begging visitors for money so Charles told him that it was not proper and the guy did not appreciate Charles’ opinion. According to Charles, the guy delivered a sucker punch and machetes were eventually drawn. Charles showed us how he now had two machetes… he took the other guy’s in the scuffle. Charles explained after the guy initially knocked him down, resulting in him banging his head, Charles eventually got the upper hand and grabbed the guy by his feet and had his machete at his ankles telling him he was about to cut his foot off.  At that point in the story Charles paused and stood straight up, turned to look at us both with a blunted affect and said, “I did that part for drama, ya know, I wasn’t going to do it…” His serious facial affect broke and a giggle managed to slip by his lips. Then he swiftly went back to bending down in his animated rendition to show us how he had the guy in a compromised position, as if the guy were actually still there, giving us a play-by-play. 

Another quirky adventure was when we tried to get our alternator fixed recently and had to take a ferry and our heavy alternator to the island of St. Vincent from the island of Bequia in the Grenadines. It was easier than raising anchor and sailing over. We liked the spot we had in Admiralty Bay and wanted to keep it for the remainder of our stay. Once we arrived to St. Vincent with the ferry, we got in a cab and headed to the mechanics’ who had been recommended to us by multiple people on Bequia when we inquired about getting it fixed. His house and shop were one-in-the-same and his wife greeted us. His daughter helped in the shop with two others. After some testing, it was revealed that the part of the alternator that was bad needed replacing and the mechanic did not have a spare. We were lucky enough to be able to buy an entirely different, used alternator from him however. Good news is that the used one worked like a charm and now once we’re able to buy a new regulator for the other alternator, we will have a spare part. But it took us a day essentially, to get it taken care of. That doesn’t include the multiple days of investigation and a small walking tour of Bequia to some dead-end leads. We took a tour of the island of St. Vincent while there, since it was our first time and made the best of it.

Those Amazon boxes that show up at your doorstep in 24 hours or less? A thing of a different, mythical land. Here, we purchased a small part for our engine on eBay. We had it shipped to the marina office, at Port Louis Marina in St. George’s, Grenada, West Indies. We received an email from the marina office informing us of a package arrival and to stop in. When we went to the marina office, they made a phone call to the airport, we did not have a number. We were told that the part had arrived and that we could pick it up at the airport, noting that we could pick it up only on either a Monday or a Thursday between 9:00 and 11:00 am. And we thought getting a dentist’s appointment without having to take a day off of work was a challenge in our old land life. If we hadn’t already decided to rent a car for a few weeks, a round trip taxi ride would have otherwise been in order since no buses don’t usually go to the airport, so we were set. It only took one trip, albeit long one, to the airport.

Having our reliable rental made the drive simple and smooth, relative to all the other steps involved. At the airport we waited in line and gave our tracking number once we made it up to the agent. The agent disappeared through a door that he used his keycard to open and eventually came back after about 10 minutes, empty-handed. Good news? The aircon was working very well in the airport this day. The second time the agent asked for information, he took Paul’s name in addition to the tracking number and disappeared behind the well-protected door once again. Another 5 minutes or so, Paul remained ever-faithful and I not at all, the agent returned with some papers and told us we had to go purchase postage stamps from Customs. Now, to get to Customs we had to go to the security desk and get a pass to enter. Another line to queue up on. Hope renewed.

Once we had the pass in hand, Paul went through airport security the same way we would when departing by air. At one point in the process, after he went through the x-ray machines, he was escorted through a back door to Customs. There he discovered he had to not only purchase the postal stamps but he had to pick up the package at yet another location first. A counter behind him. Which he did and turned around, package in hand, returning to Customs where he paid the postage stamps and duty fees. As a yacht in transit (YIT) we’re not supposed to have to pay but only 2% in fees in Grenada. When all was said and done we paid 26% and were told to battle out our grievances with eBay. In sum, that errand took all morning and fees totaled approximately three-times the cost of the small engine part. So no. No margaritas involved. Not even a hammock.

Part of why it takes so long to get things done is of course the island-time, day-to-day rhythm, which is part of the package deal. Island life. Also, it’s a boat. Parts and services are unique and sometimes even more narrowly unique to our boat. Then, there’s the issue of not fully knowing our way around a given island or town and what services are available. Sometimes the public transportation is great and other times, non-existent. Sometimes there’s a language difference, almost always there’s a currency difference and if we’re driving a rental the side of the road which you need to drive on varies and the narrow streets can be very steep with curves, cliffs and with deep drop-off gutters to negotiate.

Unpredictability in our daily routine is what’s most predictable. Conversely, the most predictable part of our routine other than meals is our daily morning exercise and our daily afternoon swim. We’ve found that without taking at least those couple hours every day, we get too deeply entrenched in the boat-maintenance aspect and less in the leisure aspect of it all. Even if the RK is on a slip in a marina, we either travel by land or by dinghy to try and keep that going. Immersing daily in that soft, salty water is what serves as a reminder even on the dead-end lead days where lots of trying but no accomplishing is done. Just a little sampling of what we do, all day long, when we’re not sipping on margaritas and swinging from a hammock, of course.