|
The group piled out from the rooms in two and threes and began to assemble at the beach. Some elected to tour St. George's although Sunday is not a good day for shopping as most things are closed. There were several tours available and many of our intrepid travelers decided to do their best Marlin Perkins imitation and get up close and personal with the rain forest.
Note - If you remember, Marlin never got out of the truck, boat, whatever. It was always Jim who was rolling around with the croc or anaconda. Never abandon perfectly good motor transport to commune with nature! You will regret this.
Mandoo, our fine transportation mgr. / guide / island expert offers two lovely tours of the interior of Grenada. One is a hike to the "Seven Sisters" falls and the other is a jeep tour of the rain forest. The hike was billed as a leisurely romp in the forest. Wear your Teva's or "trainers" (tennis shoes), Mandoo said. "No problem". (Another rule - Caveat Emptor, don't believe the guy selling you something.)
 The two mile walk in the woods turned into a death march. I was only told this second-hand as I had the good sense to confine my strolling to the scenic Grand Anse beach, the trail was shin deep in muck and included a vertical ascent of several hundred feet accomplished by grabbing roots and pulling yourself up. Our group was battered and exhausted by the time they reached the summit. At the summit they were greeted by... locals who dove into the pools around the waterfall...for a small tuppence. No fee, no dive, no picture. A few of our travelers hoping to stave off heat exhaustion, dengue-fever carrying mosquitoes, or perhaps hoping to wash off enough mud to view their fresh wounds took the plunge themselves. I didn't hear much about the trip back, but many of the hikers had the tell-tale dirt stains of someone who has discovered the glissade (butt-scoot downhill). It was interesting to note that the jeep tour did not attempt to visit the 7 Sisters as the drivers felt that it was "too muddy".
Our explorers were safely deposited back at the Flamboyant, and after the complimentary tetanus shots, we all boarded the minibuses for the harbor. It was time to stow-away aboard the Clipper. The 3 to 4 mile trip took all of 30 seconds in the buses as the drivers shared our impatience and anticipation. We arrived at the harbor and strode proudly to the gangway to be met by Capt. Stuart, Oxford, Frances, and the rest of the crew. Even after four trips in the past year I'm still overwhelmed each time I'm close to one of these beautiful ships. I declined a swizzle - the only WJ tradition that I don't partake in - in favor of a Caribe. Aboard at last - all is well with the world.
The tropical tunes were playing. Tunes that I now know by heart. And everyone was having a good time settling in. The fact that it was a charter made the check-in process seem even smoother than usual. I believe dinner was served - not that I was intoxicated, I just don't remember eating.
 A band was setting up on the top deck and we were about to have our first organized activity of the trip. One that will go down in the annals of WJ history. The First Annual Ed Rudd Charity Thong-Clad Batchelor Auction to Benefit the Families of the Fantome. While a few of us were not thrilled with the costumes provided, or the fact that our manhood was being given away for the paltry sum of $5 (we were happy to learn that it was US and not EC) we assembled in the bar area while the women were whipped into a frenzy by swizzles and their own raging hormones.
The shouts of glee and howls of laughter that greeted the first gents to go topside nearly drowned each other out. Round and round the top deck we paraded while the women made their mental notes of their choices for bidding, while taking incriminating photos that have ruled out political careers for at least 32 young american men. It was more thrilling than the yearling auction at Keeneland and I believe that Sotheby's is interested in hosting next year's event. It certainly was an effective icebreaker. It's hard to be pompous after your package has been on display! Sevral male egos were saved by strategic placement of socks - who brings socks on windjammer?
The party now rolling along, the band cranked up and the dancing began. the successful bidders were treated to dances with their new "property". I believe many a budding romance started from this quiet, subtle event. At least the women knew something about the "qualifications" of the men they were hooking up with. Around 11 the band broke down their equipment and dis-embarked. Everyone gathered on the top deck for what is for me one of the most stirring moments. As we pulled away from the quay we were first serenaded by Capt. Gunter on his trumpet playing a wonderful solo rendition of "Amazing Grace" followed by the traditional Royal Scots bagpipe version. The sails were raised and we were on our way. Feeling the fresh wind in my face and hearing the breeze rustle through the sheets brought back wonderful memories of my three previous trips and the promise of another adventure with a new bunch of friends. Clearing St. George Harbor we set course northeast - destination Bequia.
A note about Capt. Gunter - He was scheduled to take over the Clipper during our cruise, training with Capt. Stuart. The fact that the charter was completely booked forced him to give up his space for a paying passenger. Having spent only a bit of time with this man I can already say that he is going to be a fine captain and will certainly be a draw for the Clipper as Neil is for the Poly. He blows a mean Blues Harp and trumpet, and if you haven't heard, he was the guy who went into the water last year to help save sailors on a burning vessel *. I look forward to sailing with him. Besides - I owe him, I got the last space!
When I left you we were sailing toward Bequia. It was a lovely sail and as things settled down I gathered my blue mat, blanket and pillow and found my customary sleeping spot at the bow.
A note about my accomodations for this trip. Originally I was to room with Chris - No, not my dear friend Sufer Girl from this board, rather Chris DeCamp, but a situation came to light that caused a re-organization to take place. It seems that a young man and woman of the Dallas group - now living in California - had fallen into love in the time period since booking. Ed was unable to secure them a common berth so they frantically searched for folks willing to switch rooms hoping to convince some other brave souls that a man/woman roommate situation would not be a bad thing. Alas, they were thwarted at every turn. Many gallant young men suddenly discovered morals and couldn't fathom sharing space with a lovely female traveler. Or perhaps they felt that their adventures would be compromised by the presence of a young lady. More often the young ladies were non-plussed at the idea of sharing space with sweaty, snoring, semi-clad stranger. I was alerted to this dilemma by my friend Keith of the Dallas delegation and knew I had a solution. As many of you know - in three cruises I have spent a grand total of three hours sleeping in my cabin, or any cabin for that matter. I'm a top deck guy. I love the gentle rain, the harbor lights, the pitter patter of the crew's tiny feet as they prepare the ship each morning - anyway, I love to sleep up top. I volunteered to share my cabin with these young lovers. Chris traded rooms with Fred and the deal was set. Fred and Katy had a place for romance, and I had a place to stow my gear. Never let it be said that I don't do all I can to further the cause of young love. All I ask is that if this romance comes to fruitition - and marriage and children result, that my sacrifice is noted and the child is named in honor of our voyage together. I suggest the name Bequia.
As I was saying, it was a fine sail to Bequia - most of the way. Sometime early in the morning hours we came upon a storm. Rain was coming down in buckets and a refuge had to be sought. Luckily the Clipper has a nice covered fantail aft of he saloon perfect for staying dry. I rearranged myself there with my small entourage and back to the land of nod.
Monday I awoke alone in my sanctuary as the others had abandoned the fantail for more comfortable beds. I was soon joined by Mansfield, the chief steward, for what was to become a regular morning ritual. He would take his breakfast on the fantail while listening to his shortwave radio while I stretched and yawned and prepared to "go out and take on the day". We discussed fishing and our common passion - cricket. While I have a small knowledge of this complicated game it was a blast listening to Mansfield describe his observations of the latest West Indies match against India. He was quite surprised to see that I knew several of the rules and even some of the players. Cricket was to play a large part in our adventure, as you will see as we continue.
We sailed on through the morning until we came to Union Island. About that time we also came upon a large thunderstorm. We took refuge in the lee of the island and anchored. This allowed the crew to serve breakfast to our queasy bunch and offered an opportunity for a quick swim.
At anchor we also had our first storytime. Capt. Stuart gave us the run-down of the day's activities. The sail to Bequia was to take several more hours and we were going to wait out the storm before continuing. As you may know, Stuart is not normally at the helm, rather he works in Miami with the dreaded "suits" and is in charge of safety procedures. This man, and I know his wife will hate me for saying so, should be on a ship week after week. His dry English humor was fantastic - rather like a cruise with a member of the Monty Python troupe. I was constantly amused by his stories and didn't miss a one.
So over the side we went - Swimming in the rain, just swimming in the rain, what a wonderful feeling, I'm happy again. (to the tune of "Singing in the Rain" guys and gals). There were several spectacular dives and jumps from the bowspirit and only one mishap. Keith was attacked by a savage man-eating jellyfish and recorded the first known ebola sting. Really, the tentacle wrapped around his forearm and it did appear to eat away at the flesh for several days. Luckily some Neosoprin was found as well as a ration of rum and our boy was back in action.
We lingered a while at Union, had lunch, then finally sailed. A glorious transit it was. Fine weather, good wind. We arrived in Bequia that evening and anchored in a quaint if somewhat industrial harbor. I believe that there was much dancing aboard that evening but again I have problems with recall. Your humble scribe was nigh upon his 38th anniversary of being and was in the preparatory stages of a much needed celebration. Tomorrow - Birthday, Bequia, and Bill.
Tuesday came as beautifully as the three previous days with bright sunshine breaking over the hills surrounding the harbor at Bequia. I rose from my watch at the bow as the crew was wiping down the teak rails, seats, etc. grabbed my journal and went to the fantail to write, down a liter of water (must remain hydrated!), and chat with Mansfield. After solving the issues of cricket and the impending teacher's strike in Grenada I found myself presented with a problem. Having resigned my cabin to the young lovers I was now devoid of facilities. The Clipper has no public head like the Poly, and in the daylight I was not about to whizz overboard lest I be labeled a heathen. I searched frantically for some early risers that would allow me to use their head. finding none I was forced to visit my gear locker - Cabin 29 and intrude. Luckily the sweethearts were still off in dreamland. I managed to answer nature's call, rinse off, brush my teethies, and grab my camera.
Breakfast was a great buffet. I must say that I was impressed by the quality of foodstuffs produced by Strokey and his mates from the tiny galley all week. All the food was delicious. My compliments to the chef!
I lingered about the top deck chatting with fellow shipmates and catching up on the latest gossip. After all it was a singles cruise so there's all the who was with who, and who's mad about that, and he said / she said. It's all quite humorous. Until you find yourself in the middle of it.
Today was a day of much activities. We all had time to visit the "town" before excursions began. Island tours, diving, and a catamaran trip to Mustique were offered. I signed up for the Catamaran trip aboard "Passion". I walked through town to meet the boat, making a few stops to buy a few trinkets. The bookstore looked especially nice but I had no time to browse. I did pick up some nice postcards and a Cable & Witless phone card.
A digression - I feel I must testify to the utter ineptitude of the Cable & Wireless company, aka Cable & Witless. Ordinarily I would just count them as a "Caribbean" outfit - with the usual "soon come" service we all expect and love, BUT these guys market themselves in the US as the equivalent of AT&T; and claim to have all the leading technology. My 9 year old daughter knows more about technology than the average C&W; employee. Half the phones don't work, find one that does and no matter what you do you get "Barred Call" on the digital readout. Want to make a credit card call - the operator can't do that, you must go to a "card" phone and follow the automated instructions. "Please dial your credit card ...sorry we can't process your call now." Ask for a AT&T; operator and your told to dial 1-800-872-2881 which is - you guessed it - a "barred call" from pay phones. Ugh! If I didn't have a daughter being incommunicato wouldn't be a bad thing, but I needed Under 10 soccer scores very badly! More on the phone system later.
 I boarded the Passion and we soon set off for Mustique. There were twelve of us from the ship and one poor solo women traveler. Her friends had abandoned her to this adventure - we were soon to learn why! The Passion is a 60? ft. cat fully outfitted with bar, fighting chairs for fishing, sunning nets up front, and a sailing dog - Indie. This undescribable mutt was the hit of the trip. Happily barking when we shoved off, again when we reached Mustique, standing watch beside her master while underway, manning the foredeck scanning the horizon for unwary seabirds. We crashed out in the nets and enjoyed the bouncy ride over to Mustique. We motored since the route was directly upwind.
Mustique - land of the rich and famous. For those not aware Mustique is a formerly private island now converted to the Aspen of the Caribbean. Mick Jagger, Princess Margaret, Tommy Hilfiger all have homes there. Tiny little beach houses with 5 and 6 bedrooms and twice as many baths. It is a Robin Leach kind of place - but I jump ahead of myself.
 We left Bequia harbor and got the waterside view of Moonhole. Moonhole is a collection of solid stone houses built right into the hillside on a remote section of Bequia. The houses were very beautiful and looked completely at one with the environment. Imagine Robinson Crusoe with an engineering degree. Got lots of great photos that I hope to post soon. I'd love to go back someday and do the shore tour of this enclave.
We motored over to Mustique enjoying the bumpy ride. Capt. Marty told tall tales and the bar was open - (how else did you think that they'd enticed us to go.)
We had four lines off the stern trolling for denizens of the deep but came up empty on the voyage over. The crossing took a couple of hours and we arrived drenched by spray and ready to explore a new land. Only problem was - the island was closed. Mustique is not St. Barths by any means. There are three or four stores - the only one open for our visit was the combination general store and antique shop. After a quite walk through of the not bustling marketplace we dropped in on Basil's for a thirst quenching beverage. That's where we saw Him. The ricest man in the world was hanging out in the very same bar as our rag-tag collection of adventurers. That's right..Mr. Windows, Billy Boy Gates and his not so lovely bride were both buried in a book as they sat overlooking the beautiful Caribbean. Bill was a picture of nerdiness in his shorts, black knees socks, and topsiders. As quickly as we could get seated they departed for the sanctuary of their $22,000/week bungalow. However our very own paparazzi got a picture of the couple before they departed - I hope to see it posted soon. We enjoyed a beverage and hurried off to find the taxi and take an island tour.
The tour was ok. A few nice vistas but mostly it was this is So & So's house and this is Mr. Rich Guy's house. I don't watch Entertainment Tonight so I think some of the importance was lost on me. One of the final stops was a beautiful beach on the Atlantic side of the island where Mick Jagger throws a party every year to benefit the local school. Mick has excellet taste in beaches.
Back to the Passion for a short ride to a snorkeling spot. The snorkeling was excellent with eels, lobsters, and all manner of colorful fishes. A few turtles were in the area but I didn't spot one. After an hour or so we were off again on our return to Bequia. We motored out of the lee of the island and we set our sails. The ride back was as bouncy as the morning trip and we enjoyed the cooling spray. About half way across we were alerted by Indie's sharp yapping as we had a fish on. Patty was in the fighting chair and in a short while she had boated a small barracuda. Indie ignored the mate's warning and tore into the fish eventually subduing the poor beast. Unfortunately my Tevas were back in that area and they still smell like fish due to Indie's using them as a platform for knoshing. We were deposited back at the Clipper around 6pm right in the middle of the wine and cheese party.
We boarded to a party in full swing. Lovely wines, cheeses, and pates filled the table. Capt. Stuart had also provided a very nice port and some Stilton. It was heavenly, except for the screeching of a local "lounge" act that was playing in the corner of the top deck. Bequia's imitation Eurythmics were about as awful as any "professional" act I had ever heard. I expect that it was a Windjammer plot to entice people to perform karaoke later that evening at Schooner's. No one on board could have sounded worse. Nontheless we sampled approximately 48 bottles of wine - thanks to whoever came up with the Chinon, my favorite. Dinner that night was at Coco's for most. A few of us decided to remain on board and were treated to the best meal of the trip. I believe Strokey was rewarding us for choosing his cuisine over Coco's and he didn't let us down. Someone else will have to report on Coco's but I heard that it was pretty good.
After dinner I took the launch over to Schooner's for the aforementioned karaoke extravaganza but took a detour to try and call home. I thought that there was a phone nearby but it turns out I had to walk all the way to "town". Upon reaching the bank of phones I found them to be a congregation point for the island with many of he locals hanging out and chatting, singing, and having a cold beverage. Again I had trouble with Cable & Wireless. My phone card wouldn't work at all. I tried several phones and was about to give up when the man in the booth next to me came to my rescue. As he was helping me several of his friends also strolled over to help. At one point there were at least five of us in the phone booth arguing about the proper technique and cussing the phone company. With my friends help I was able to reach my daughter for a quick chat. Unfortunately the Under 10 Lightning had been defeated 3-1 in soccer action over the weekend. I thanked my friends, who were now keenly interested in youth soccer and began my trek back to Schooner's. As I passed through town my new friends dropped off one by one at their homes or favorite pubs. Soon I was alone with three cheerful rasta's - my bodyguards. We chatted away - they were very interested in the singles cruise concept - as we walked up the road. We were got to Schooner's two of them stopped short , but one walked me right to the stairs. "Mon, me belly's empty brother" he said to me. " "When did you last eat", I asked. "Lunch", he replied. Relieved that my friends were not starving I offered a round of beers that were very well received. I fetched them from the bar and distributed them out on the street. As I handed one to Marley ( there's always a Marley in every group of rastas) I slipped a $20 EC bill into his hand. "Praise Jah!" we said in unison. My friends headed back to town and I climbed the stairs to Schooner's.
The house was rocking as it seemed the whole place was joining in on every tune. None of the semi-professional singers looking for a break karaoke formalities. I was treated to many birthday beers and thanks to all those who bought me one. I also enjoyed several dances with the beautiful ladies from the Clipper. Again , I must state - as far as birthdays go this one did not suck! We sang until we were hoarse and then shuffled to the launches to continue the party aboard. The last launch had already been moved back from midnight to 1am and we were having a difficult time tearing ourselves away.
Back on board the party continued. The whirr of the blender could be heard over the party tunes. "Follow the Leader", "Run, Trouble's Coming", and reggae blared into the night. I understand that around 4am the bar closed and the music was quieted. It seems a complaint had been lodged about the noise. Party Poopers! I ventured up top and was enticed into the widow's net for a discussion of the astronomical features on display that evening. Lying down was a mistake, for I was soon fast asleep. My companion was alarmed that I would be sleeping in such a precarious spot. She consulted a crew member who agreed that I must be moved. Not being a small fellow I can imagine the consternation they must have experienced. Eventually my companion crawled out to me and spoke sweet nothings in my ear - "Come over to the deck, I made your bed up for you." The thought of a comfy blue mat and a pillow was enough to cause me to pop right up, stride right across the net, and plop down in my "bed". I slumbered until the bright sun woke me around 7am. At that point I sought refuge in a cabin and nearly doubled my cumulative cabin bunk sleep time.
What an incredible day. What a wonderful birthday. Thanks to all who made it so special, which includes 60 or so passengers and the entire crew of the Clipper. Next on tap, Tobago Cays.
I dedicate this report to S.G. - may we sail together again in the future.
I awoke Wednesday a year older and none the worse for wear. After a very pleasant sleep below decks and a final birthday present, I was up in time for breakfast and story time. Unfortunately there was no Cricket match to discuss as the West Indian squad had a much deserved day off. We were anchored off Tobago Cays (Keys). Tobago Cays is a group of five small islands in the Grenadine chain that are uninhabitated and are essentially nature preserves. Later this year they will become off limits to visitors to allow the reefs to rejuvenate. There's absolutely nothing here except a beach or two, a reef to snorkel, a t-shirt tree, and beautiful sunshine. We took the lauches ashore and set up camp along the beach. Some of us (me) snorkeled - and were reprimanded for tackling the waist deep waters alone - but the primary activity seemed to be standing in waist deep water and chatting while imbibing in cold beverages. In fact the only thing that brought many of our group to shore was the arrival of lunch. Sandwiches were brought ashore and we all enjoyed the beach picnic. I never ventured to the far side of the island, but I understand the snorkeling was much better over there.
After lunch I found myself feeling rather poorly. Could it have been the over indulgence of the night before? The food at lunch? I have no idea , but I returned to the quiet refuge of the ship. But before I could leave a phenomenon occurred that soon replicated itself seemingly continuously throughout the day. We were joined at Tobago Cays by several commercial catamaran day-trippers. These large boats were pulled right up unto the beach and spewed forth their contingent of stern German tourists. They did not seem to appreciate our frivolity and walked about with faces which led me to believe that they had been tasting something that they found quite repulsive. Their time at the Cays up, or more likely after requesting that their captain remove them to a more befitting anchorage, the cats began to pull away. A windjammer salute was organized and the passengers of the cats were bid farewell with a twenty-one bun salute. I'm sure it was the highlight of their trip. Well, you can't keep a good girl's pants on after she's tasted the freedom of mooning, and an epidemic of trou dropping swept the beach. Soon some tops were dropped as well and the political careers of a few young ladies were secured. Alas, I missed most of this but have been promised pictures! After an afternoon of beach fun it was back to the ship as we couldn't remain anchored in these somewhat dangerous waters. We sailed on to Mayreau and anchored off of a beautiful beach.
Dinner was skipped as my tummy was rumbling. In fact I missed the whole PBLT??? party nearly sacked out in the widow's net. It sounded like a lot of fun. I think Wendy had the time of her life judging the toga portion of the contest! Gayla as a BLT will linger in my memory for some time. After the party most changed their clothes and came back up top for dancing. The party died fairly early as most were exhausted from too much sun and the previous evenings' activities. A few stalwarts carried on in the bar area and after few words of concern and encouragement I was able to venture downstairs to check out the scene. The regular late night crowd was there. Tracy, Debbie, Kelly,Oxford, etc. Jack was doing a marvelous job behind the bar as he did all week. Other than the lack of Capt. Morgan's, which was labeled a mortal sin by the Dallas group, everyone was kept happy and well lubricated.
Not feeling like dancing I ventured back to the top deck contemplating an early retirement. What met my eyes was a competition so dramatic that I was drawn out of drowsiness into a fever pitch. The Dallas group was deeply engrossed in the World Championship of the Grenadines in ......Yahtzee! It was a nip and tuck battle featuring some highly skilled veterans and some talented rookies. Dave's stunning somnambulant performance is sure to be remembered. I found my best BBC cricket commentator voice and began calling the game. On the game's final roll of the dice Keith came up with some crucial sixes that allowed him to capture a victory. Sandi rebounded well , having finished dead last in the preliminaries, coming in in second place.
Exhausted after the match I retired to my mat at the bow for an evening's respite. A wonderfully slow day to relax and recover. And yes I did beginning feeling better later in the evening. Tomorrow, Thursday - "Mayreau, or Who says bats won't fly into your hair!"
Thursday 9/9/99 - Mayreau
The above designation is as much for my edification as the reader's. The days seem to blend together and as this is a semi-fictional account I shoot for aproximate accuracy.
Mayreau, which is French for "all uphill" is a small island without a plethora of activities but it was fo me the most memorable day of the trip. A nice long beach with a couple of piers and a tiny village on the hillside was all we could see from the ship. A road runs from the end of the beach to the top of the hill - approximately ½ mile. After breakfast and storytime we all took the launch into the beach. Feeling robust after the early night and quite over the stomach malady of the previous day I joined with a hearty bunch who wanted to hike the island. With Joe in the lead we marched down the beach to the road and the hill. Coming from east Texas the hill probably seemed like a mountain but after a short but exhausting climb we reached the false summitt. A few of our group took advantage of the strategically placed bar to have a drink. Coca-cola tasted mighty good at this point. Up the rest of the hill we climbed, passing the church and swinging into the school yard.  Luckily we arrived around recess or lunch period for we were greeted by a screaming, laughing mass of unbridled childhood glee. Huge smiles were on the faces of the children. Joe was especially popular as he was swinging the kids around airplane style. Many pictures were taken and many of us donated to the school fund (as does WJ). As we left the school we moved on to a road side cemetary where we found our guide. Or rather our guide found us. Richard was at first very demure, hanging around the edge of our group. When finally Joe engaged him, it was as if a switch was thrown into the on position and he gushed forth with all kinds of info about the island. He led us down the path to the opposite side of the island to Saltwhistle Bay. There we found the lovely resort of the same name, closed for the season. The resort fronted one of the most spectacular beaches I saw on this journey. Luckily of of the caretakers was present and he gave us a tour of one of the bungalows. If you ever desire privacy and seclusion this would be a perfect place. Only 10 suites - beautiful grounds, no loud towns. Adjacent to the property was the ubiquitious t-shirt tree and beverage cooler. A few of the hikers opted for the water taxi back to the beach while the rest of us trudged back over the hill.
On the way back to town we stopped at the small island church. Not being christian I'm usually not that impressed with churches other than their architecture, but in this instance I could actually feel a spiritual presence. I'm sure almost every inhabitant of this island had passed through those doors. How many dramas of birth, marriage, and death had this place seen?
Down the hill to the beach and the welcome coolness of the water. My shoes were off and I was wading the whole length of the strand. Lunch was served on the beach again and I was famished. Many people were snorkeling, some were doing the standing waist deep thing (which I don't get), and many were sunning on the beach. I brought out my volleyball and soon we had a circle going trying to keep the ball in the air. Unfortunately I was unable to get a net before going on my trip so we had to settle for this game rather than official volleyball action. A few of the crew found some branches for a wicket, a tennis ball, and a home-made cricket bat. A few of us watched the Cricketeers bowl and bat. Oxford and Junior were quite the fastbowlers. Jason was a star at the bat. Being the player that I am(K Mac, that's for you), after a while I decided to give it a try. After a few pitches I even managed to bowl a wicket against Junior! Soon more and more of us joined into the game. The beach was alive with calls of "Good ball!" when a wicket was struck. We passengers showed quite well in our first outing, getting a few hits and striking a few wickets. As the day wore on the Cricket bat got wet and slippery and began slipping from the hands of the batsman. It was just such an incident that befell Keith as he was boarding a launch for the ship. As we were loading up to return the locals continued the game. On one mighty swing the batsman lost the handle, and the bat sailed toward the launch. The bat itself would have probably scored a boundary except that it met a quite solid object. Keith's head. Catching him over the right temple our young man went down in a heap. Rushed to the ship and into the able hands of Frances the purser/activities mate/ nurse. A big ice pack was applied and the whole ship was on watch for signs of a concussion. Poor Keith couldn't even have a drink to alleve his pain. As we had snacks and those detestable swizzles one of the local fishing boats pulled alongside the Clipper. In a wonderful ceremony Keith was presented the offending bat and given honorary membership in the Mayreau Beach Cricket Club.
After snacks we all cleaned up and were shuttled back to the beach for a Bar-B-Q. Tiki torches lit the path from the pier to the dining area. A local band struck up island tunes and they were great. The food, ribs and fish, was fantastic. It could have been a perfect end to the day.
But we weren't through - oh no! Still to come was Oxford's Cultural Tour of Mayreau - otherwise known as the great hill climb and pub crawl. Mayreau has three bars perched on the hillside above the beach. As we proceeded I was reminded of the story of Goldilocks, or perhaps Goldi-dread-locks. The first bar was too quiet, the second was too loud, but the third was just right. Soon Oxford had our group out on the dance floor "following the leader". The midnight call of last launch came rather soon and so it was back to the ship. But never fear, the party continued for several more hours. Jack was behind the bar making drinks and manning the tunes. The dance floor was filled, and the mating rituals were in full swing. All I can say is that my young friend Terry has set some kind of record as most desirable young man on a singles cruise. If you were looking for him this week, the one place not to check was his cabin!
Another day in the books ( or on the web if you prefer ). Tomorrow Carriacou.
Friday - 9/10/99 Carriacou.
Friday brings with it the first moments of sadness as the realization that the trip is coming to a close begin to dawn on me. Someday I hope to do a back-to-back just to have more time to experience the islands and get to know the ship and her crew.
We anchored in the harbor at Hillsborough. There was an island tour offered but a few of us chose to just run ashore and wander about. After a comprehensive 10 minute walk about the town most of my group found a taxi and set off for an official tour of the island. We only had a couple of hours as the Clipper was to motor around the island later for swimming and snorkeling. Those of us remaining found our way to the Calaloo restaurant where I had the most delicious bannana smoothie ever. We were a quiet group, and I enjoyed the relaxation time. Around noon we again boarded the Clipper and moved around the island. The reviews of the island tours were not enthusiastic. Sounds like self-guided wandering is the better option.
We anchored in a nice bay with good snorkeling not too far away. There was also a good beach. For the most part we formed a blue mat flotilla and lounged in the water off the Clipper's port side. We conned our shipmates into being runners (swimmers?) to the bar as we relaxed and enjoyed the sun. Tracy kept making sure that the jellyfish stayed away, although I believe that the dilution effect of an entire sea could not be overcome. Besides the water was only warmed a degree or two. A few adventurous souls took to jumping off the bowspirit. It's quite a plunge of twenty-five feet or so. My attempt at a flip turned into a rib-bruising one and a half. Unfortunately, no bathing suits were lost in the diving exhibition.
About mid-afternoon we weighed anchor ( it was heavy) and headed home to Grenada. Along the way we took pictures of the crew and of the passengers. For the life of me I don't know why Frances thought I needed 12 shots of my fellow passengers? I supposed whale was spotted and the whole group rushed to the rail for a look. I was not lucky enough to spot the whale, but I did get a nifty shot of some driftwood. Our final round of snacks and swizzles were served and I even tried a swizzle - still repulsive.
The highlight of the evening was to be the Captain's Dinner. Due to the accomodations we were forced to have two seatings. I chose the later seating so that I could 1) wait to take a shower, 2) have a few cocktails before dinner, and 3) dine with some very special friends. After cleaning up I was up top having a discussion with some shipmates when we noticed Julian and Ricardo peering over the side. Knowing full well that they were going to cry out - "Iceberg, Dead Ahead!" I was surprised when Julian asked, very quietly and without a hint of emotion -"Hey guys, want to see some dolphins?" Rushing over we found a pod of dolphins , at least 8 or 10 riding in the bow wave of the Clipper. They swam effortlessly as they cut back and forth in front of the ship. You could actually heard them "talking" when they surfaced for a breath. At one point of of them peeled off from the rest, swam out until it was about 50 yards off port amidships and lept into the air. We watched these magnificent creatures for at least twenty minutes, until they tired of us and went about their business.
Now it was our turn to dine. I was joined by Kevin, Jessica (we didn't see one without the other for the whole week!), Laura, Keith, Joe, and Tanya. Laura and Jessica were well into the wine and were "entertaining" us all. An interesting topic of discussion was each individuals top 5 Jeopardy categories. It was interesting to learn about the diverse interests of my dinner companions. If team Jeopardy ever comes about, I know who my squad will consist of.The Ceasar Salad show was performed with aplomb by Ed. The dinner was wonderful - Prime Rib for me. Some wonderful wine was served and it just seemed to keep coming! One table was at dinner until after 11 and consumed over 9 bottles of wine. Of course they retired immediately to their cabin following dinner to praise the gods of Kohler.
Following dinner there was the usual frivolity. Dancing in the bar area, some pairing off for some final romantic moments up top. Near 10 we reached the harbor at Grenada and the harbor pilot came on board. What a stiff character he was. Veddy, Veddy British. I think he sat on his swagger stick. The ship was slowed to such a crawl. Stuart remarked later that the pilot took over an hour to accomplish what the crew could have done alone in about 15 minutes. After docking the party continued on. Gunther joined us aboard, and it was nice to chat with him. Seems his week with the manuals wasn't nearly as fun as our journey. It was a very late night. I remember 4am coming and going. Hoping Saturday would never come I finally drifted off to sleep.
A final note.
Saturday came without the usual heaviness as only one of our shipmates had to leave us. The rest of us got to play some more. Some of us shopped for the required souveneirs. Some did Mandoo's death march. Many of us just vegetated by the Flamboyant's pool. A large group went to dinner with Oxford at the Aquarium and then danced the night away at Fantasia. Another group went to Cinnamon Hill for dinner at La Dolce Vita. The Grenadians weren't so kind on our return visit as Tracy was robbed at the disco and Bill and Wendy experienced a theft at the Flamboyant. It was a great time and I can't wait to go back again. Opps I fogot to mention the song and limerick from the Friday night party. Ask somebody who was there.
A few thoughts....
Thanks Ed for putting together a wonderful trip. See you next September.
To Laura, Jessica, and Terry - no one could ask for better roommates. I hope we can travel and sleep together again very soon.
To Tracy - you made the anticipation of the trip almost as much fun as the trip itself. Please keep up the e-mails. I owe you a poem!
To my ship board roommates - Fred and Katy - Good luck together. Thanks for letting me store my stuff in your room. Remember - Bequia!
Keith - I'll see you at Cricket try-outs!
Terry - I'm in awe of your "social graces".
Kevin - Nice to meet you and you better be nice to my girl!
Joe - Good to see you again. Look me up when you come to visit your "friends" in Atlanta. Have the good sense to bring Tanya with you.
Tanya - Great to meet you and sorry about my friend's temporary insanity. I hope you had a pleasant reunion when you got home.
To the entire Dallas group - it was great to sail with old friends and to meet new ones. If you find yourself in Atlanta look me up.
Wendy, Kelly - Thanks for showing us that a family doesn't have to be dysfunctional. Kelly you've got me wanting to commit felonies in TN. Wendy I'm still applying for the lawn boy position.
Gail, Sandra, Bob - When are we going again?
Stuart, Frances, Oxford, Jack, Jr. , Jason, Brendan, Mansfield, Rigo, Ricardo, Julian, Strokey, and the rest of the crew - You're awesome. Thanks for a great week. I'll be back to see you for sure.
Laura - thanks for helping to make my birthday so very special. Sorry if I don't always show my appreciation like I should. I miss you and we'll talk soon.
Sorry I can't mention everyone, but it was a great trip. I've done four of these cruises in the past year and this was the very best one. I hope to sail with you again soon. Thanks for reading my story and I hope that early next year there will be much more for everyone to read. I'm working on a book (sorta fictional) about a guy who runs away to the Caribbean after being downsized. Many of the characterizations and events will be based on my WJ cruises so you may recognize somebody or something.
Until next time...I'm off to team with Bob Ballard, Mel Fisher, and James Cameron to search for the Fantome to see if we can learn anything that can be applied to racing Lasers in the bathtub of a Corps of Engineers lake near home.
|
A SINGLES CRUISE
