The Seven Year Itch

We find ourselves on a mooring ball in Pirate’s Bay in Charlotteville, Tobago. Our lucky number 7-year anniversary is proving quite special and other than those buggery mosquito bites, no scratching. Eight years ago we bought the Rita Kathryn in Trinidad so it’s a bit auspicious we find ourselves back. It wasn’t really any sort of definitive plan as much as a realization along the way.

I vividly remember the text Paul sent to me all those years ago saying, “I’m coming to your neighborhood…” I was way up in the Andes mountains of Ecuador chaperoning 20 high school kids and was a tad perplexed, “He’ll never find me…” Then he sent a picture of a boat. It was the boat: make and model of what we had decided on after nearly 8 years of research, endless boat shows, and only three months of active boat hunting. We had estimated it’d take at least 3 years to find a boat since we determined there were only about 100 of these boats, world-wide, when we began our search. Poof! A reliable Amelian friend and expert vouched for its condition and said it was in great shape. That was enough for Paul to book a flight and take a look for himself. A year later and seven years ago this past August 2024, we sailed away. 

It’s now February and I was in a very different state of mind when I wrote that above intro paragraph and the first draft of the rest of this blog. I’m only getting around to writing or even desiring to write and publish now. Revisiting the drafts I left behind while we traveled through a fog of space and time in the vortex of mourning tragic loss, seems a bit futile. It’s been a season of raw pain this entire year. Honestly we weren’t quite sure we had it in us to continue this lifestyle. We questioned returning to the boat. When we finally did, I certainly didn’t want to blog anytime soon. If at all. Writing can be painful. Again, right now it seems like an exercise in futility. Other times, it’s a rewarding creative process that occurs when I publish even if no-one reads, as it goes out into the ether. It helps me make sense of my inner and outer worlds with holding both the joy and pain somehow. It’s profoundly cathartic. After some time and with the support of loved ones, in particular with Paul’s steadfast support, I carry on and find the amalgamation of these experiences in the process of what’s now become a practice. Momentarily, it feels life-affirming, as inevitably the time for us to move on, leave, transition, death… will come.

August 27, 2017 was our casting-off date, once upon a time. Traditional anniversary gifts aside, we decided to celebrate by returning full circle and have moored off the coast of Tobago in Man-O-War Bay (the larger bay that Pirate’s Bay is part of), the smaller island of this two-island nation of Trinidad and Tobago. We landed in Tobago first because even though we bought the boat in this country, Trinidad is a short 80 miles away, neither of us had been to Tobago before. We couldn’t be happier to have landed here for our anniversary. It was really more of a practical decision, as hurricane season pushed us along, than it was for romantic reasons. Nevertheless, it turned out to provide lots of romance. It’s a unique bay and quiet fishing village. Birthdays and anniversaries come and go all the time, but this one is affecting, deep in the bones.

Our planning to come further south to Tobago started months ago thanks to Hurricane Beryl, the earliest forming category five hurricane in history. She devastated Carriacou, Petite Martinique and northern Grenada, Union Island in St. Vincent and other parts of the Grenadines… and continued on north-west to wreak havoc in the U.S.. We were very lucky that the marina we happened to have had the Rita Kathryn in, at the time, simply remained seriously unscathed. A few degrees here or there plus the way a hurricane is organized and travels, can make all the difference. Yet it was still too powerful and too close for comfort. After our other hurricane encounters, we promised ourselves we wouldn’t be caught in that situation again. But alas, global weather patterns are changing drastically and this storm fully formed so early in the season. In addition to a series of other complicated circumstances at the time, it left us too terribly vulnerable once again. We were resolved to at least move further south. But as people in the mountains of North Carolina know well, thanks to Hurricane Helene, you just never really know.

The U.S. State Dept. does not want Americans coming to visit this two-island nation, a stone’s throw from Venezuela. The crime is high due to drug trafficking and it can be quite violent crime. But much like growing up in a big city, you figure out where to go and what time of the day, while simply avoiding certain places all together, especially at night. We’re finding the small bay and town of Charloteville we’ve landed in absolutely darling. It’s so nice and quiet with very little going on. The people in town tell us how welcomed we are every day and that we are safe and have nothing to worry about. Just about everyone we encounter goes out of their way to make us feel at ease.

Nearby, there’s a superb hiking trail with just us, sweeping views, goats munching on fragrant grasses and abundant sweet guava that’s fallen like a blanket. Which thankfully helps with the eau du goat. The bay is dotted with little beaches and we’ve only just begun exploring. Our 7-year anniversary rain forest tour was with the most knowledgeable and delightful Mr. Newton George, ornithologist and naturalist extraordinaire. And despite automated government warnings, we find our time here a sweet exploration and unexpected gift. Mr. Geroge was further evidence of that.

We didn’t know what to expect but Mr. George came highly recommended by Ms. Sharon of Sharon and Pheb’s Restaurant in the town of Charlotteville. Some of the best food in town, we’d been told. Now, we can only vouch for it being true to our knowledge because it’s the only place we’ve tried, except for the hut in the middle of town that makes doubles-to-die-for. The fish is always fresh at Sharon’s and there’s a lovely balcony seating area to view these sunsets. There aren’t many choices, at all really, which is also why we haven’t gone anywhere else to eat and that’s just fine. Sharon has some guest rooms available too if you’re interested in a quiet, very off the beaten path place to visit. Ms. Sharon was one of the first in this area who welcomed cruisers with open arms about 40 years ago. Her story of how she convinced the opposed town hall meeting attendants is colorful. She’s a gem, really, and her husband is just as lovely. We only met him briefly when he returned from witnessing a lightening strike while he was out fishing on his boat in Man-O-War Bay. He said it was a first-time-ever event for him. Lightening does indeed have the ability to strike twice. We now know.

Mr. Geroge proved a great honor to tour with. Birds, especially hummingbirds, are believed to hold the spirits of our ancestors. Mr. George did his own ancestors proud in the stories he told and with his abundant knowledge he enthusiastically shared at every opportunity. All bird identifications and great shots are thanks to him. With the gift of a nature whisperer, that enormous spider he’s playing with below, as if it were a golden retriever, he found in its lair and cajoled the astonishingly large beast out himself.

The tropical wave passing through has brought some heavy squalls and unfortunately when that lightening struck in the bay, it directly hit the mast of a sailboat not 500 feet away from the RK. A couple of boats moored right next to them, even though they didn’t experience a direct strike, suffered some instrument damage since the electrical charge travels through the air and water. Luckily, for the struck boat everyone onboard ~ a family of four, was safe. You don’t quite know how much, or what exactly, has been damaged on a boat after a lightning strike until you start using everything, but they seemed to have it under control and took it all in stride. We had friends who took a year to figure out all the bugs that had been caused after a direct hit. We’ve heard of others who just walk away from the lifestyle because it was simply too costly and sort of the last straw. As of yesterday when we swung by to see how the family was doing, they told us they had enough of their instruments and navigation lights working to head to Grenada for repairs. They resiliently carry on.

Though not exactly a seven-year itch, there’s a similarity of the seven-year demarcation in the cruising life, as it is about the 7-year range when cruisers often “swallow the anchor” as they say. It means to walk away from sailing and return to land life. The last anniversary post I wrote at our two year mark, was a reflection on ordeal vs. adventure, which is a great deal of life’s experience, generally speaking, no matter how you choose to live. As the father on the lightening-struck boat said to us, “Ah, just another day in the life of a sailor…” We carry on, even as our hearts suffered lightening strikes this year, a dear friend and then another, loving daughter. From this surreal beauty to its extreme, in a blink.

We paused before shutting ourselves down and have chosen to take on this lifestyle for at least another, loosely scheduled year ahead. Not much more beyond that. At this juncture, planning a year seemed enthusiastic, but it was right. We’re not quite sure what to do. Since the silence and elements have provided to be a balm for our past heartaches; we’re giving it a chance to be so again… one setting sun at a time.