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Boat Bites and Other Disasters: Newbies Sail the VI
Boat Bites and Other Disasters: Newbies Sail the VI
For those that prefer instant gratification, the photos are here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N ... 082656538/
For the rest of you…..read on….
Boat Bites and Other Disasters: A Newbies Account of Sailing the Virgin Islands
Picture it: It’s a still and quiet December morning. Three couples scattered along the east side of North America….from the deep south of Tennessee….up to the hustle and bustle of the D.C. area…..and finally reaching up to the frosty shoreline of the St. John River in Canada……all are waking up at 3:00 a.m., dragging their sleepy bodies toward various airports….duffel bags and boarding passes in hand…. heading down to sunny St. Thomas to spend the next 8 days together aboard a 45 foot monohull sailboat in the clear warm waters of the Virgin Islands. Brought together by some twist of fate, a USVI message board, and a few jello shots, these 3 couples have barely met and two of them have never sailed.
Insanity? Sure it is. But what the hell…you only live once, right?
Let’s go sailing.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219848061/" title="Day 1: Arriving at Frenchtown Marina by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4027/421 ... 8b4e4e.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Day 1: Arriving at Frenchtown Marina"></a>
Tuesday, December 8
It was sometime after 10:00 a.m. when I looked across the Charlotte airport and saw a familiar face. Scubagirl!! I raced over to give a hug to my friend who, in the last 24 hours, had lost her power in a storm, left her favorite bra at home, left her travel cash sitting in Canada, and discovered a flat tire late on a Sunday night far from home. Hopefully, the bad karma monster had done its worst and had nothing left. Particularly since we were about to board (and were on the same plane).
We shared our flight to St. Thomas, arriving at 2:00 p.m. My husband, Matt, was shuffled off to the Avis counter while Mr. Scubagirl and I slurped our tiny cups of free rum that were stingier than a Chanel sample at Saks and Scubagirl scanned the baggage area for their luggage. Gromit and Mr. Gromit were arriving about an hour later, so Scubagirl waited at the airport while the rest of us took the luggage to the Frenchtown Marina. We dropped Mr. Scubagirl off at the boat with the bags and headed back to the airport. When we arrived, a smiling face greeted us with open arms. Gromit!!! The gang was all here.
We piled bodies and luggage and more bodies and more luggage into our rental and headed back to Frenchtown. We met CptJay at CYOA and he hooked us up with our home for the week: Island Sister, a 45 foot Hunter monohull.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219851885/" title="Island Sister by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2778/421 ... e082cd.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Island Sister"></a>
Gromit and I ran below and took a look at our cabins.
Eventually we did stop laughing.
I kept looking behind the doors, thinking maybe the size of the cabin was an optical illusion, like in a fun house, and there was actually a king sized bed that was going to pop out of the wall. Yeah…um….no.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220624406/" title="I have to sleep WHERE? by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4013/422 ... 6a86b2.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="I have to sleep WHERE?"></a>
We shoved our luggage in our teeny tiny cabins to deal with later. We needed to get provisions and I was STARVING. Knowing that if we went grocery shopping while I was hungry we’d come back with six bags of Doritos, 2 chocolate cakes, some mustard and no real food, we stopped in at the Frenchtown Deli for a quick snack.
The Grand Gobbler at the Frenchtown Deli was, as the girl behind the counter phrased it so eloquently, “the sandwich that changed my life.” I gobbled and away we went.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4221605549/" title="The Grand Gobbler at Frenchtown Deli by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2676/422 ... ef973d.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="The Grand Gobbler at Frenchtown Deli"></a>
Three shopping carts of groceries, 9 bottles of liquor, 2 cases of water, and one very confused check-out girl later (as in, “Can you put $68.29 on this credit card, $167.25 ½ on this one, and the rest on this one?”), Gromit, Scubagirl and I emerged from the grocery store with a receipt that was at least 4 feet long and more groceries than we could possible hope to fit into our rental car, much less that galley on the boat.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219855009/" title="Just where we need to be, the liquor aisle! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2701/421 ... 0c3ee7.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Just where we need to be, the liquor aisle!"></a>
We did have a small accident in the Pueblo parking lot when a case of Diet Coke fell off the top of our overloaded grocery mountain and one can exploded. We lost a good man that day, but his 11 comrades would still serve us well. We piled the bent and battered cans into the car and headed down to a gourmet market Scubagirl remembered being down by the waterfront. After wandering around the docks in the dark, we found our place, got our goodies, and headed back to the marina.
Boat Lesson #1 : Be careful where you put your groceries.
We discovered that milk only lasts about 2 days and the lettuce freezes. Chips go stale in a day and bread turns green and fuzzy before your eyes. We did what we could with the groceries and hoped for the best.
When grocery duty was done, we met CptJay and Deb at Hook, Line and Sinker for dinner. A lobster dinner, some good friends, and a little bit of rum washed travel day away.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4221635401/" title="LOBSTER! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2789/422 ... 01e3_m.jpg" width="240" height="164" alt="LOBSTER!"></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4221619139/" title="Dinner at Hook, Line, & Sinker with Deb and Jay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2563/422 ... cc07_m.jpg" width="240" height="164" alt="Dinner at Hook, Line, & Sinker with Deb and Jay"></a>
Or so we thought.
Gromit and I still had to unpack.
Before we unpacked, Mr. Scubagirl, aka “Our Fearless Captain,” talked dirty to us. More specifically, he told us how the head worked.
Boat Lesson # 2: It really sucks if you forget and accidentally toss your used TP in the toilet. That’s all I’m gonna’ say about that.
Potty Talk out of the way, it was time to figure out how to unpack 40 cubic feet of luggage into 10 cubic feet of locker space.
Gromit and I squared our shoulders, patted each other on the back for luck and headed into our cabins. Every few minutes you’d hear a loud “BANG!!!” followed by cursing under the breath as one of us forgot the ceiling was only 4 feet high. After about 15 minutes, Gromit wandered out of her cabin with a dazed look on her face, hands full of clothes,staring vacantly into space and said, “I have no hope. No hope.” She turned aimlessly and wandered back into her cabin. She had not yet resorted to babbling, drooling, and drawing on the wall with a crayon, so I saw it as a positive sign.
BANG!!!! Dammit.
Somehow we did the impossible and the bags were eventually stowed.
Boat Lesson #3: You get creative on a boat.
I had stuff hidden EVERYWHERE. No nook or cranny went unused. I even rigged up storage contraptions with clothes pins, rubber bands, and Ziplocs. Getting our luggage unpacked was a feat of engineering, I tell you.
We were sleeping aboard at the marina that night and as much as I was dreading it, it was time to crawl into that little bed and try to sleep.
I only hit my head 3 times during that first night.
Boat Lesson #4: Don’t sit up suddenly in your bunk in the middle of the night.
You only have about 18 inches of clearance. Sit up quickly in the night….BANG!!! Dammit.
Wednesday, December 9
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219865909/" title="View of St. Thomas by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4071/421 ... 67e43f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="View of St. Thomas"></a>
We were able to have “real” showers at the marina that morning. By “real” shower, I mean that you were able to shower with hot water, without a swimsuit on, and in a space that was bigger than 12” in diameter.
Still, it wasn’t exactly a “luxury” shower. It was a basic stall with no shelves to set your stuff on (you had to sort of juggle it in your hands) that had a shower curtain rigged up on a tenuously perched pole and a chain that you pulled and had to keep pressure on for water flow. This was not an optimal set up for a clumsy person. Lucky for me, I was alone in there because somehow, I managed to get all soaped up, had my shampoo in one hand, tried to pull the chain and hold it while I rinsed with the hand holding my shampoo, and then proceeded to stumble, drop my stuff, and knock my shower curtain down in the floor, where the rings all came off the rod as it spun across the room. I had to run out of my shower stall, scurry across the cement floor of the bathroom chasing my rod, and try to hook all the rings back on it while wearing nothing but rubber flip flops and squinting through a face full of shampoo suds.
When I got back to the boat from my shower, no one knew my shame. I hung my towel to dry on the side of the boat. It was time for food!
Breakfast took us back to the Frenchtown Deli. I was all for it, since they had the “sandwich that changed my life.” Not a huge egg eater, I got oatmeal and a bagel. I was hungry, so I got a large. Have you ever seen 16 ounces of oatmeal in one container? It isn’t pretty. Gromit and Scubagirl couldn’t eat for laughing at my food.
Do you even need to ask if I ate it all?
Even though we had so many groceries we needed a moving van to get them to the boat, we still needed a couple of forgotten items from the Pueblo, so Gromit and I headed out with me driving. Despite the poor driving skills I had displayed the night before, no one else was interested in trying to drive on St. Thomas, so Gromit was subjected to my ineptitude a second time. We headed out, chatting away.
“Left,” I heard Gromit say casually. I just kept chatting.
“Left,” she said again, a little more intensely. I just kept chatting.
“LEFT,” she said one last time, as I looked up just in time to see the car that I was about to have a head on collision as I drove down the right side of the road.
“This might be a good time to tell you I don’t know left from right,” I grinned as I swerved back into the left lane, narrowly missing the oncoming bumper as Gromit wiped the sweat off her brow. Funny thing is, she thought I was joking.
We managed to get back to the marina without a serious car accident and without Gromit stuffing me in the trunk to take over at the wheel. When we got back to the boat, I went to get my towel to put it back down in my cabin.
“Did you get my towel already?” I asked Matt.
“Haven’t seen it.”
I asked everyone. No one had moved it.
Boat Lesson #5: Unpinned towels sprout wings and fly.
Never, never, never, never ever put your towel, or any item of clothing for that matter, on a boat railing without a clothes pin. Or seven clothes pins. And some duct tape. Maybe a pad lock.
It was finally time to head out. Before we even managed to pull away from the dock, Gromit smacked her leg a good one and got the first “boat bite.” It was a doozy. Little did we know, Gromit would win the coveted title of “Boat Bite Queen.” By the end of the trip, we decided purple was definitely her color.
Boat Lesson #6 : Every fixture on a boat that sticks out, sticks up, or just plain sticks was designed to impale the most tender or bony part of your body as you walk by.
It was about 12:30 when we pulled out, CptJay waving goodbye and good luck.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220632950/" title="We're sailing! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4004/422 ... f18ebc.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="We're sailing!"></a>
For our first night, we were headed over to Leinster Bay on St. John. As we made our way over, Scubagirl showed Gromit and I our first “rain blob,” what looked like a rainbow that had spent a little too much time in the sun and had melted into a puddle of insane color on the horizon.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219871313/" title="Rain Blob by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4050/421 ... a22d01.jpg" width="500" height="360" alt="Rain Blob"></a>
Scubagirl had also warned us that the roughest ride of the trip would be the passage from St. Thomas to St. John. Was she ever right. Within the hour, we had a man down. Mr. Gromit was SICK. Gromit soon followed suit. They turned greener as the boat pitched and swayed its way toward St. John. Between the green of her face and the purple of her leg, Gromit was becoming more colorful by the minute.
“We need to make lunch. Food will actually help their seasickness,” Scubagirl said.
“What? Down THERE?” I said as I looked down into the kitchen as it swayed heavily to one side and then heavily to the other. “Are you NUTS??”
Boat lesson #7: Scubagirl is nuts.
The next thing I knew, I was standing with her in the galley with my legs spread about 2 feet apart so that I could shift my weight from side to side to keep my balance as we made turkey sandwiches with our supplies and plates literally sliding from one end of the counter to the other. It seriously felt like my body was spinning on a merry go round while my legs were on a see saw, it was so disorienting. The boat heaved. We smeared mustard. The boat pitched. We sliced cheese. The boat rocked. We piled on turkey.
We emerged, victorious, with a pile of mostly edible turkey sandwiches. We only dropped one on the floor. Sssshhh….I’m not telling whose.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219874035/" title="Leinster Bay, St. John by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2661/421 ... df6952.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Leinster Bay, St. John"></a>
We arrived at Waterlemon Cay around 4:00 in the afternoon. The sun had settled behind some clouds, so it wasn’t a great time to snorkel. Matt took a swim while Gromit and I did our next favorite thing: we broke out the rum. We mixed up some rum punch. After some drinking, Gromit felt that it needed a little “something extra” so we dumped in some Coco Lopez. That is how the Pink Painkiller was born.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220644022/" title="You invent the Pink Painkiller by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2764/422 ... 44320c.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="You invent the Pink Painkiller"></a>
Was it good? After a few rum punches we certainly thought it was. However, the fact that only Gromit and I would drink it should have told us something.
Boat Lesson #8: Coco Lopez doesn’t belong in everything.
For dinner, we grilled up some hot dogs and hamburgers and ate them in the fresh open air. I’m pretty sure they were the best hamburgers and hot dogs I have ever eaten.
Boat Lesson #9: EVERYTHING tastes better on a boat (except Coco Lopez and Hawaiian Punch).
It was finally time for our first night of “real boat sleep.” No marina, no air conditioner, lots of movement. We popped open our two little windows and drifted off much more easily than I could have imagined. It was surprisingly comfortable.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219876465/" title="Beautiful sunset at Leinster Bay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2555/421 ... d3f21c.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Beautiful sunset at Leinster Bay"></a>
Splat.
Splat splat.
Splat, splat, splatter, splat.
I woke up wondering if the dog was licking my face. I rolled, hoping that would make her quit so I could go back to sleep. I was tired. I had to work tomorrow.
Splat.
I sat up.
BANG!!! Dammit.
I ducked my head and realized 1) I was on a boat and 2) It was raining on my bed.
Matt never even flinched. He was out like a light. I think he would have drowned in there before he would have woken up. I jumped up and closed the 2 windows. I lay back down and drifted off.
Boat Lesson #10: When you close your windows for rain in the night, stay awake until the rain passes and open your windows back up before returning to sleep.
I woke up about 30 minutes later….dripping with sweat….certain that the boat had capsized in the night, that I had drowned, and that I was now in hell because that is the only place I could think of that could be that hot.
I groggily opened the windows back up and as the cool night breeze blew across my skin, I drifted back to sleep.
Splat.
Splat. Splat.
You have to be kidding me.
It was just a few short hours later and it was raining again. I went through the window ritual again, this time staying awake to reopen them, because I had figured out that it only rained for about 2 minutes.
Boat Lesson #11: It rains many times at night, but not for long.
I learned quickly that it rains at least 3 times every night, but only rains long enough to wake you up, get your bed wet, and force you to jump up, hit your head, and shut your windows. Just as you get the window shut, it quits again.
Thursday, December 10
Boat Lesson #12 : Coffee tastes better when it’s rocking to the rhythm of the waves in your cup.
We woke up to the serenity of Waterlemon Cay and the company of good friends. As I sat in the breezy morning air, sipping a cup of coffee, I think I truly realized the beauty of a sailing trip. It was glorious. It didn’t matter that all my possessions were crammed into a locker the size of a shoebox. The small cabins didn’t take away from it either. Neither did the rain in the middle of the night. This was truly wonderful and I felt blessed to have been asked to be a part of it.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220646902/" title="Day 3: Waking up at Leinster Bay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2553/422 ... d9d74f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Day 3: Waking up at Leinster Bay"></a>
We had coffee topside, followed by breakfast. Then Matt and I, Gromit and Mr. Gromit decided to snorkel Waterlemon.
Boat Lesson #13 : Having a small bedroom becomes way cooler when you realize you can snorkel just outside your window.
The one thing I really wanted to see but had never found snorkeling was an octopus. I had been paying attention, taking notes from Liamsaunt, and was DETERMINED to find one on this trip.
Guess what I saw within 5 minutes of getting in the water? Octopus.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220650082/" title="My first octopus...hiding! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2638/422 ... e1bb95.jpg" width="500" height="351" alt="My first octopus...hiding!"></a>
I did my underwater happy dance (which isn’t much better than my above water happy dance) and called Matt over to ensure that someone could validate my experience. The little bugger wouldn’t come out of his hidey hole, but I could see him all the same. I was happy. My first Octopus!
As we rounded the end of the cay, Matt blew a fin. The top of it ripped right off. Don’t worry. I towed him back to the boat. I’m awesome like that. Okay, the real truth is that I had Scubagirl’s fins and THEY are awesome like that.
Boat Lesson #14: Cheetos cure motion sickness.
We sunned on the boat for a bit and before we knew it, it was time to head to the BVI. The previous day, Gromit had discovered that, for her anyway, Cheetos were a cure for the queasy feeling she got when the boat started heaving its way through the water. She literally never got more than 3 feet from a bag of Cheetos for the rest of the trip. As we headed out, Gromit grabbed her Cheetos. Pretty soon, we were cruising into Tortola. First stop was Soper’s Hole to clear customs.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219895267/" title="Soper's Hole, Tortola by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2658/421 ... a24e45.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Soper's Hole, Tortola"></a>
I must confess here that, while Scubagirl is a natural beauty, Gromit and I are helplessly addicted to beauty products. So, while Scubagirl did no more to “get ready” than toss her naturally gorgeous hair to the wind, Gromit and I started spritzing and combing, brushing and spraying, trying to tame our sun freckled cheeks and sea frizzy locks, not yet ready to admit it was hopeless….as we had somehow become boat girls while we weren’t paying attention.
Now, I thought I was bad when it came to “products,” but I knew Gromit was the superior beauty addict when she pulled out 3 ziploc bags filled with every item that can be begged, borrowed, bought, or stolen from the Sephora beauty counter. I stood there in awe.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4221667899/" title="Getting pretty at Soper's Hole, Tortola by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2788/422 ... 68cf7f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Getting pretty at Soper's Hole, Tortola"></a>
Pretty. Shiny. Sparkly. Aaaahhh……
Scubagirl (and her perfect hair) just rolled her eyes.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4222010009/" title="Syd at Pusser's by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2494/422 ... b6858b.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Syd at Pusser's"></a>
We all did a little shopping, found the world’s largest flip flop, and headed over to Pusser’s for sustenance.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220654632/" title="Riding into Soper's Hole by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2607/422 ... 0054cc.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Riding into Soper's Hole"></a>
Delightful. We had painkillers by the number (#2 for 2 oz., #3 for 3 oz., or #4 for 4 oz…..I’m not telling who had what…..), wings, bang bang shrimp, nachos, and an awesome looking deep fried hot dog. Tip: Never order a mojito at Pusser’s. Someone decided it would be a good idea to serve Mr. Gromit’s mojito as a frozen blended drink. Everything was blended. Even the mint. Ever suck tiny pieces of mint up through a straw? Mr. Gromit has.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219899443/" title="Soper's Hole, Tortola by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2674/421 ... 1f11aa.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Soper's Hole, Tortola"></a>
Our captain let us know that we better be moving on if we were going to make it to Marina Cay in time to get a mooring ball before dark, so we piled back on the boat and headed off.
Boat Lesson #15: Always wear a clip on your hat on a boat. Oh, and blue hats are a bad idea.
About halfway to Marina Cay, Matt’s hat blew off. It was just a $10 hat, but you know men and their hats….well the next thing I knew, we were on a hat chase. We were using a 45 foot boat to find an small blue hat in a big blue sea. Mr. Scubagirl was whipping the boat around, Gromit was yelling “There it is!” and Mr. Gromit was trying to fish it out of the water with a pole. We must have circled around that darn hat for 10 minutes as it floated for an impossibly long time. How in the hell in stayed above water, I’ll never know. This insane hat dance ended when Gromit busted her toe, Mr. Gromit gave up with the pole, and Matt lept frantically off the back of the boat and just swam for it.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219902799/" title="There! There it is! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2796/421 ... 756151.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="There! There it is!"></a>
I know that at this point, Mr. Scubagirl had to be wondering WHY he had invited this motley crew on his sailing trip. Gromit had a severed toe, the boat’s front deck looked like a pig had been slaughtered on it, Mr. Gromit was running for the first aid kit, and Matt was trying to swim the mile back to the boat.
He did get the hat though.
We pulled up to Marina Cay just as the last of the daylight was fading from the sky. We grabbed a mooring ball and whipped up an easy dinner of Gromit’s wonderful marinated chicken on the grill and a Caesar salad.
Boat Lesson #16: Being able to step outside on deck at any moment is heaven.
After dinner, we noticed that you could see every star in the sky. The sky seemed impossibly big and the stars impossibly bright. We lay there listening to the water quietly lap against the sides of the boat while watching the night sky.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220670376/" title="Marina Cay sunrise by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2790/422 ... ae1903.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Marina Cay sunrise"></a>
Friday, December 11
Boat Lesson # 17: No matter what you do, everything you have will be damp within 2 days and your cabin will start to smell like an old gym shoe…and you will learn to love it.
We rose with the sunrise. I dug around in my locker looking for something dry to put on. Even the clothes that I hadn’t worn didn’t seem clean. Thankfully, Scubagirl had packed us lots of Febreeze and dryer sheets, which helped a lot. I did the “sniff test” on a few items and found something that wasn’t too offensive.
We had our breakfast on the boat. After eating, Mr. Scubagirl took the dinghy over to Marina Cay and Matt and I rode along.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219909849/" title="Marina Cay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4071/421 ... 2b16e7.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Marina Cay"></a>
We pulled up to the long dock that led to the little fuel building and I jumped out and did what I do: I started snapping pictures. I tend to do a lot of squatting and crawling on my hands and knees when I do “my thing” and noticed Mr. Scubagirl and Matt ahead of me, snorting and giggling like two girls. Figuring they were just immature men who did not understand “My Art,” I continued to do my thing. I proceeded to continue squatting and crawling along the dock until I heard a voice behind me.
“Ahem.”
I looked behind me and there was the most amused (and patient) gentleman I have ever seen, one who had apparently been stuck behind me for several minutes, because my squatting, crawling behind made it impossible for him to pass. I looked up at Matt and Mr. Scubagirl.
“Thanks, guys.” I said through clenched teeth. They just laughed some more.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220676982/" title="Marina Cay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2531/422 ... 80d36b.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Marina Cay"></a>
We did our thing for the webcam, walked around for a bit, and headed back to the boat.
It was time to sail for the Bitter End and Saba Rock.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219916357/" title="Sailing Girls! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2517/421 ... 76832e.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Sailing Girls!"></a>
Boat Lesson #18: Riding on the front of a sailboat is life at its very best.
This was true for me, anyway. I loved being up on the front of the boat, the wind whipping past me as we moved through the water. I loved the feel of the sun on my skin, the wind in my ears, and the salty spray on my face as we sliced through the sea. It didn’t feel like life could get any better than this. I finally knew how my dog feels when we go for a ride in the car.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220689378/" title="Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2754/422 ... 6a0387.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Saba Rock"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220684662/" title="Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4040/422 ... 1bcb88.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Saba Rock"></a>
We arrived at Saba Rock before lunch and hopped off so that everyone could take a walk around. That didn’t take long, because you can walk across this beautiful scrap of land in about 20 seconds flat.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219982887/" title="Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2744/421 ... 3a6c3c.jpg" width="500" height="355" alt="Saba Rock"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219987757/" title="Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2770/421 ... c1d84b.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Saba Rock"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220758112/" title="Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4031/422 ... 63b447.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Saba Rock"></a>
Back on the boat, lunch was smoked salmon wraps made with salmon that Scubagirl had brought down from Canada. That stuff was so good it should be illegal.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219998603/" title="Bitter End Yacht Club by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2637/421 ... 1ebda2.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Bitter End Yacht Club"></a>
After I fought Mr. Scubagirl for the last bite, we headed over to the Bitter End Yacht Club in search of Scubagirl’s favorite drink: The Lemon Crush.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220770624/" title="Ahhh....the Lemon Crush.... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4070/422 ... 5ac0a7.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Ahhh....the Lemon Crush...."></a>
We did a little shopping and walked around to see what there was to see. I stumbled onto their carved “Island Girls” which gave me a SERIOUS body complex and made me stop to consider the pros and cons of implants before I was dragged away to the bar.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220766300/" title="Oh, yeah....THOSE.... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2697/422 ... 96a05e.jpg" width="500" height="402" alt="Oh, yeah....THOSE...."></a>
The Lemon Crush at the Bitter End Yacht Club is excellent. And not just because I was feeling vulnerable.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220009641/" title="Bitter End Yacht Club by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4053/422 ... 3b150f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Bitter End Yacht Club"></a>
Matt found a sailing yacht that I believe he would have traded me for, but we finally managed to pry his gripping, sweaty fingers off its hull and drag him away. I’m pretty sure he was crying, but it might just be that we got sand in his eyes during the struggle.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220776864/" title="picnikfile_vKvfmz by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2709/422 ... 3edbb1.jpg" width="346" height="500" alt="picnikfile_vKvfmz"></a>
We all took a walk along BEYC’s beachfront and checked out their restaurant and facilities. It was a pretty place.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220780228/" title="Bitter End Yacht Club by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2562/422 ... 6157db.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Bitter End Yacht Club"></a>
After hanging at the bar, we took the dingy over to the Sand Box Bar on Prickly Pear Island. I wasn’t sure the place was open as we pulled up onto the perfect little beach. There was no one around and the place looked deserted. Gromit and Mr. Gromit had already been dropped off and we were trying to locate them.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220783932/" title="Prickly Pear Island by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4065/422 ... 6d1562.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Prickly Pear Island"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220786854/" title="Prickly Pear Island by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4049/422 ... 5e6beb.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Prickly Pear Island"></a>
Then I heard it.
Holy Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus. It was awful. I was certain someone was hurt. Or an animal was stuck in a trap. Or maybe someone was being tortured. There were some cats around….maybe one of them was sick.
The agonized wailing rose and fell on the breeze as we walked up to the bar. As we neared the bar, it got louder and more exuberant. I saw Gromit and the look on her face was priceless.
“WTF???” I mouthed to Gromit as I made my way closer.
Then I saw him.
It was the live entertainment.
Although…..I’m pretty sure he wasn’t actually PAID entertainment. It appeared to be a bleary eyed guy with a CD boom box and a microphone sitting at the bar, stoned out of his ever loving mind, moaning to the music in the most incoherent and tone deaf manner possible. When he saw us staring, mouths agape, he winked at us and carried on even louder, like he was Bob Marley himself. He seriously thought he was rockin’ it.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220795134/" title="The WORST live entertainment EVER by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2647/422 ... 7e0e77.jpg" width="500" height="384" alt="The WORST live entertainment EVER"></a>
Truth is, he was killing it…and killing it painfully from the sound of it. It was so bad, I felt queasy. I sat there, torn between wanting to throw myself onto the bar and wrench the microphone from his hands in order to save the others and wishing I had a video camera so that I could put this tragedy on YouTube, when the bartender broke my stunned silence.
“I’m going to need a really strong drink,” I said to the bartender as Matt elbowed me in the ribs.
As the wailing continued, we grabbed a round of drinks and headed to spread out in some chairs on their beautiful beach. The wailing went on for an eternity. Blessedly, he finally stopped when it became necessary for him to go light one up on the beach.
Thank god for small favors.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220027639/" title="Girl feet. by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4001/422 ... 411bb8.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Girl feet."></a>
It was getting late in the afternoon, so we finally headed back to the boat for showers.
Boat Lesson #19: Get used to showering with an audience and without hot water.
Why? Because showering on the back of the boat in your swimsuit is so much better than trying to shower in the shoebox sized indoor shower stall, where you hit your elbows and your head and if you drop your soap, you have to open the stall door to have the space to bend down and pick it up.
Real friends don’t mind watching you scrub sand off your butt.
We headed back to Saba Rock for a dinner of mojitos (blessedly unblended) and fish and chips and before we knew it, it was time to call it quits for another day.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220798790/" title="Dinner at Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4016/422 ... 32c7b3.jpg" width="500" height="380" alt="Dinner at Saba Rock"></a>
And don’t worry, no skeleton pirates were harmed in the making of this photo.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220803886/" title="Shiver me timbers.... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2645/422 ... 57a0b4.jpg" width="393" height="500" alt="Shiver me timbers...."></a>
Nights on the boat were deliciously cool, breezy, and filled with stars. I could think of worse places to be.
Saturday, December 12
We got up early and started the journey to Jost Van Dyke, wanting to get there as early as possible.
Boat Lesson #20: When the captain says “We’re leaving early tomorrow,” that means get your coffee made early.
As I sat on the counter in the galley next to the stove, holding my pot of coffee onto the burner with a pair of vice grips as the boat heaved to and fro…I realized what Mr. Scubagirl meant when he said, “Get everything done early.” Apparently, I wasn’t early enough.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220043045/" title="Day 5: Coffee and Vice Grips by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4053/422 ... e67d25.jpg" width="377" height="500" alt="Day 5: Coffee and Vice Grips"></a>
Speaking of coffee, we had to make 2 pots every day because my coffee got “voted off the island” by every member of the crew on Day 1. Well, except our captain. On Day 2, as I was making my pot of coffee and asked if anyone else wanted to share it, just as everyone else shouted “NO!!!!!!” Mr. Scubagirl looked at me and said, “Yeah…I kinda’ like the swill.”
Well, because we had the whole vice grips issue going on this morning, we didn’t want to have to make 2 pots of coffee, so Scubagirl and I were trying to compromise.
“How many scoops do you put in for 10 cups?” I asked her.
“Six,” she said.
“I put in 12,” I said, “How about we do 12? You can add some water to yours.”
“That works,” she said.
I started putting the heaping scoops in the pot.
“If you’re going to heap them like that, just do 10,” she said.
“Fine, fine, fine,” I replied, “How many is that so far? Three?”
“Nice try!” she said, “That was 8!”
Hey, can’t blame a girl for trying, can you?
Thirty minutes of vice grip percolating later, my butt was hot and sweaty and my hand was in a permanent claw, but Vicki’s Supersludge Coffee was ready! Don’t let them lie to you either, they secretly liked it. I know they did. I could see it in their shaking hands and dilated pupils. I heard a rumor that Gromit went into Starbucks the other day and asked if they could use 16 scoops in her Espresso.
We made a quick stop at Marina Cay for fuel and ice and I used the time for more photo ops, during which I managed not to squat in front of any strangers but during which I did manage to annoy the hell of a pelican for about 15 minutes. Then we were on our way to Jost.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220046533/" title="Fueling at Marina Cay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4019/422 ... f09eeb.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Fueling at Marina Cay"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220048967/" title="Fueling at Marina Cay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4058/422 ... 90978a.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Fueling at Marina Cay"></a>
Boat Lesson #21: Sailing feels like you are flying on the water.
Sitting at the front of the boat, with the wind in my hair was like flying. I was tempted to do the whole “Titanic” bit, but I thought that might be a bit much.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220816794/" title="Sailing to Jost by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2706/422 ... 24d695.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Sailing to Jost"></a>
As we neared Great Harbor, I couldn’t help but smile. This happy little island always greets you with a warm breezy hug and a salty kiss. I could already hear Mic putting the nutmeg on my painkiller and could feel the cool water of White Bay swirl around my feet. Gromit, Mr. Gromit, Matt and I headed landside while Scubagirl and Mr. Scubagirl decided to take it easy on the boat. After a quick stroll down Great Harbor’s sandy main street, we grabbed a taxi over to White Bay.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220056301/" title="Foxy's by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2797/422 ... 15223f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Foxy's"></a>
The first order of business was a visit to Mic for a painkiller. His smile alone is worth $6. Painkillers were followed by drinks from Gertrude’s “pour your own” bar. Another tip, never let Matt pour yours….unless you want it to taste like gasoline. Drinks were followed by a cool swim, lounging in the sun, and walking in the sand.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220059165/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2616/422 ... ffca2e.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220062641/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2591/422 ... eb7c5d.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
We even bumped into Cpt. Brandi at the Soggy Dollar and managed to make a video without any of us drooling or falling face down in the sand. When you have to be on video while inebriated, it helps to have one member of your party who is a PR Wiz so that the rest of you can just smile stupidly, nod a lot, and toss out the occasional thumbs up or stupidly intoxicated “woo hoo!” like some idiot girl on MTV Spring Break. Not that I did that.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220066555/" title="Drink it fast, he says... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4009/422 ... 592d_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Drink it fast, he says..."></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220069199/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2643/422 ... 6517_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220835856/" title="Pour your own... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2546/422 ... bafe89.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Pour your own..."></a>
Eventually all that relaxation made us hungry, so we grabbed some food from Gertrude’s kitchen. Gromit swears the wings were some of the best she’s ever had and my roti was so good I was licking it off my arm. Okay, that last bit might have had something to do with the fact that I am a messy eater after a Gertrude’s Pour Your Own Matt Style Drink.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220074783/" title="Wings! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4024/422 ... 7180_m.jpg" width="240" height="164" alt="Wings!"></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220841464/" title="Hey...I didn't have a napkin. by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2580/422 ... 9668_m.jpg" width="240" height="181" alt="Hey...I didn't have a napkin."></a>
While we were snacking, Matt made a new friend, a little brown Chihuahua with two gimpy legs. Have you ever noticed that there never seems to be a shortage of interesting dogs on Jost? Sucker for dogs that I am, he got about half of my roti…well, the half I didn’t have to lick off my arm.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220080555/" title="Say "hello" to my little friend... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4026/422 ... 078588.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Say "hello" to my little friend..."></a>
When it was time to head back to the boat, we went looking for our taxi driver. We had told him to meet us near the Soggy Dollar at a certain time. Gromit and I walked (staggered) down the beach in search of him and I saw a guy in a red polo and I just ASSUMED it was our taxi driver. You know what they say about assuming, don’t you? And please, no jokes, I heard more than my share that day from Gromit.
Anyway, thinking this was my guy, I walked (staggered) up to him and said, “Is it time?”
In retrospect, and viewed in sobriety, this was probably not the most intelligent thing to walk up and say to a strange man who was, in fact, not my taxi driver. It could have sounded a bit propositioning. Could have.
Which might be why he then offered me some weed and said he thought it was time.
Gromit dragged me away, laughing, as I stared stupidly, still trying to comprehend why our taxi driver had just offered me weed.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4222623824/" title="Taxi! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2639/422 ... ab64ac.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Taxi!"></a>
As the red polo guy trailed behind us….we did find our actual taxi guy just in the nick of time. We piled in and were off to Great Harbor.
When we got to Foxy’s, Mr. Gromit, aka The Gadget Master, pulled out his 007 Walkie Talkie which was infinitely better than my idea of jumping up and down on the end of the dock waving my arms.
Sidebar: Mr. Gromit is truly the Gadget Master. Need a flashlight? He pulls out some supercharged light saber with a 400 foot beam. Worried your luggage is too heavy? Oh, he just happens to have a luggage scale in his pocket. Not sure what that plant on the beach is? Wait, Mr. Gromit has a plant analyzer in his pocket that will immediately break down its chemical components and tell you what it is. Okay, maybe I am exaggerating…but not much! He is a master of all things technological, I tell you.
Mr. Scubagirl made the pick up and we were back on Island Sister for a beautiful sunset and a great dinner of Gromit’s marinated filet cooked on the grill and plantains. That girl knows her meat, folks…that thing was so tender I could cut it with a butter knife. Sun soaked and full, it was nearing “boat bedtime” and we were all getting sleepy.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220082991/" title="Sunset at Great Harbor, Jost by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2521/422 ... 5f8a9e.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Sunset at Great Harbor, Jost"></a>
Boat Lesson #22: No matter who you are, no matter what you do, you get sleepy on a boat by 9:00 p.m.
We probably turned in at the late, late hour of oh….about 9:30 p.m. I drifted off to the gentle rocking of the boat and the soft sound of the waves.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!!
What the?
BEEP! BEEP!
I jumped up.
BANG! Dammit.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Half asleep and 100% disoriented, my brain couldn’t figure out where I was much less figure out what that incessant beeping was.
Matt jumped up.
BANG! Dammit.
We both started scrambling, certain that we had some sort of important sensor in our cabin, like a carbon monoxide detector…knowing that we surely had only moments before we would all either die from inhalation or the boat would explode. We tore into our locker, pulling everything out….we scrambled in the small cabinet….we checked our phones, our iPods….where was that infernal beeping coming from????
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
I finally grabbed my little Roxy iPod speaker case and held it up to my ear.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Ah Ha! I found it! Somehow, we had accidentally set the alarm in the Roxy. Whew. We shut the thing off, got our cabin put back together, and drifted back to sleep.
Splat! Splat! Splatty splat splat!
Seriously? I sighed as I crawled to the windows to close them for rain. I waited …..listening to the rain pour for all of about 3 minutes…I reopened my windows and drifted back to sleep with the cool breeze blowing across my body.
Sunday, December 13
Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday dear Gromit, Happy Birthday to you!
Today was Gromit’s birthday and we were spending it on Jost because there could be no better place to spend a birthday, could there? We made a birthday breakfast fit for a queen of bacon, eggs, and banana bread and cinnamon rolls that we had picked up at Christine’s bakery the previous afternoon. We “got ready” which, even for me and Gromit at this point, consisted of throwing on a swimsuit and grabbing a towel.
Boat Lesson #23 : Minimizing “stuff” is freeing….not having to worry about lots of luggage, clothes, shoes, curling irons, hair spray….is bliss.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220086747/" title="Which way is the bathroom? by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2588/422 ... 898f83.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Which way is the bathroom?"></a>
After breakfast, Mr. Scubagirl took us all in to Great Harbor where we grabbed a taxi to White Bay.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220853936/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2642/422 ... bfe116.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
Boat Lesson #24 : After being on a boat for a few days, you find that when you hit land, you will unconsciously stand and sway gently back and forth.
Gromit and I noticed early on that whenever we hit land, we’d stand and sway, back and forth, back and forth, unconsciously, apparently in an effort to cope with our new sea legs. If one person did it and the other one didn’t, we actually felt seasick. So…we stood….we swayed….we conquered.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220092455/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2733/422 ... 36ce52.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4222487152/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2780/422 ... c579b4.jpg" width="372" height="500" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
We piled up in some rent-a-chairs at Jewel’s and let the limin’ begin. Matt and I wandered down to the Soggy Dollar to see what Mic could hook us up with. I had enough painkillers the day before and wanted to try something new….I ordered my drink. Mic actually laughed as he started to make it.
“One, two,” he said as he pulled out a bottle of rum and poured it into a glass of ice. He chuckled. He put it away and pulled out another bottle of rum.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220860082/" title="Mic is hooking me up with a Soggy Man by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2721/422 ... 3af1_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Mic is hooking me up with a Soggy Man"></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220863130/" title="Soggy Man - 10 different rums....woo hoo! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2485/422 ... 8f11_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Soggy Man - 10 different rums....woo hoo!"></a>
“One, two,” he said again as he put it away, laughed, and pulled out a third bottle of rum. “One, two.”
Finally, I laughed and asked just how many bottles of rum he was going to pour into my glass.
“Ten,” he said, and started laughing again. “One, two.”
Ten flavors it was, with just a splash of grenadine on top. That my friends, is a Soggy Man. And it was delish. I don’t know how something with so much rum could taste so good, but I say it’s just the magic of Jost.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220147173/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4054/422 ... 3d5c3e.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
We bought some t-shirts, took a walk, soaked in the beautiful water, and lounged in the sun. It was hard work, but somebody had to do it. Gromit had brought us a jug o’ rum punch (thank goodness the Pink Painkiller had mercifully been thrown out by this point) and we had a glass under the swaying palms, watching the Sunday party boat armada as it made its way into White Bay.
Eventually, hunger took over and we headed over to Seddy’s One Love for lunch with Gromit and Mr. Gromit.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220143881/" title="Seddy's by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4071/422 ... 7fe046.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Seddy's"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220101985/" title="Time for lunch at Seddy's by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2690/422 ... 399227.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Time for lunch at Seddy's"></a>
One of the girls in the bar was also having a birthday and they shared the birthday champagne with Gromit. We asked what their house drink was and were told they had the best bushwacker…so birthday bushwackers it was!
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220105345/" title="That's talent. by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2709/422 ... 7bc24d.jpg" width="388" height="500" alt="That's talent."></a>
Matt ordered a lobster salad sandwich that I must say was one of the best looking things I have ever seen. I had the lobster which came with peas n’ rice, corn, and cole slaw. The food was excellent, the drinks were frosty, and we even had some live music for entertainment.
Seddy’s even gave us a round of shots in honor of Gromit’s birthday.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220873592/" title="Birthday shots for Kala! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2649/422 ... 85801f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Birthday shots for Kala!"></a>
The party continued to arrive, filling the waters of White Bay, tanned bodies lining the sand and laughter filling the air around the Soggy Dollar. Scubagirl and Mr. Scubagirl headed over to the Soggy Dollar for lunch and Matt and I followed. Rueben was about to play and apparently, I felt like I needed another drink.
Drink count for Vicki so far: 1 Soggy Man (which is like….nine drinks….okay, for me anyway….), 1 Rum Punch, 1 Bushwacker, 1 Seddy’s Shot, and now another Soggy Man. To say that I can’t hang with the big dogs is an understatement. Hell folks, I can’t hang with the two legged Chihuahua.
I was getting soggy, man.
It was at this point that I decided it would be a good idea to walk the goat trail over to Ivan’s. Barefoot. And soggy. But then again, I’m the one that hiked the Reef Bay Trail up and down in flip flops and with no water.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220112351/" title="Walking to Ivan's by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2575/422 ... 8a3270.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Walking to Ivan's"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220115441/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2798/422 ... 6d7f69.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220883542/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2754/422 ... 9605ba.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
FYI: Don’t take the trail from the Soggy Dollar to Ivan’s barefoot unless you want to have significantly less skin on some of your toes and at least one big bruise on the bottom of your foot when you’re done. Trust me on this one.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220121755/" title="Where are my shoes??? by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2702/422 ... cf0dfd.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Where are my shoes???"></a>
Somehow, I made it across what seemed like an infinite beach strewn with sharp rocks. Victory!
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220889764/" title="Made it! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2521/422 ... 5e16_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Made it!"></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220893328/" title="Very bad victory dance... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2640/422 ... 5a25_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Very bad victory dance..."></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220131823/" title="picnikfile_E8bohn by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2542/422 ... 18e5_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="picnikfile_E8bohn"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220899374/" title="This is what you call "one drink too many" by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4045/422 ... f894_m.jpg" width="169" height="240" alt="This is what you call "one drink too many""></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220902360/" title="Or two too many... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2632/422 ... 0b05_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Or two too many..."></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220904896/" title="Freak. by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2533/422 ... 226d_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Freak."></a>
I think if you run those photos together really fast, you can actually see my above water happy dance, but I would not recommend it because it is so ugly it has been known to scare small children and make old ladies cry. There is a reason I was always the last one picked for dodge ball.
We did a little hanging (and swinging) at Ivan’s before heading back over to the Soggy Dollar.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220915780/" title="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2779/422 ... e82aca.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220154843/" title="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4052/422 ... eee31d.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220157841/" title="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4071/422 ... 6cd078.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost"></a>
When we got back, Gromit pulled out the rum punch and we headed for the water. Yes, it was classy, we were drinking it right from the jug at this point. But come on, we were next to the Woody’s boat and had a group with beer bongs in the water next to us. When in Rome, right? Anyway, I told you, I was soggy. I can’t be held accountable for my actions. Besides, it was Gromit’s birthday. No rules of propriety apply when it’s a girlfriends birthday.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220160799/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2500/422 ... 04aec3.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
Remember that I said we’d lost Scubagirl to pirates the day before when Cpt. Brandi had us on video without her? Well, it was at this point that I made a daring rescue, swimming beyond the party boats, risking life and limb to rescue Scubagirl from the dread pirates. I leapt aboard their ship, smashing two of my toes and bruising my foot in the process. I then heaved my beloved iPhone at them, shattering it, and threw my book at someone’s head as a distraction. I fought valiantly, suffering great personal loss and sustaining battle wounds, but we got her back.
Or….I might have had too much to drink, tried to walk the path from the Soggy Dollar to Ivan’s and bruised my foot and smashed my toes on the rocks because drunk people often forget things like shoes, lost my book, and dropped my phone under my chair where I proceeded to sit my butt on it and smash it’s screen…but who really knows.
Boat Lesson #25 : You can meet wonderful strangers from a sailboat.
When we finally headed back to the boat, Scubagirl told us that we’d had a visit and a great dinner offer from Cynthia at Harris’ Place in Little Harbor. Free mooring for the night plus the first round of drinks free. Harris’ Place is right on the water, next to Sydney’s Peace & Love. She made us an offer we couldn’t refuse and did it with such a beautiful smile, we didn’t want to.
We arrived at Harris’ Place and were immediately drawn in by the twinkling lights and warm smile of Cynthia, the hostess with the most-est. Mr. Scubagirl, Mr. Gromit, and Scubagirl ordered the BBQ plate and the rest of us asked for “the biggest lobsters they had.” Drinks arrived and we had some of the best painkillers and bushwackers on the island. These were quickly followed by our choice of lobster bisque or black bean soup and the best homemade bread EVER. Next up were salads. When the main courses arrived, she brought out a lobster that looked like something that should be on the Discovery Channel…so big it looked prehistoric…along with peas n’ rice and cole slaw. We were so full we thought we’d rupture, but the homemade desserts were too good to pass up: fresh coconut cake, caramel and banana pie, key lime pie, chocolate cake….it was bliss. She even brought Gromit’s with a birthday candle and a chorus of “Happy Birthday.”
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220927608/" title="Dinner at Harris' Place by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4061/422 ... 9211_m.jpg" width="240" height="164" alt="Dinner at Harris' Place"></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220168929/" title="Cynthia, the hostess with the mostest by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2717/422 ... 63d7_m.jpg" width="240" height="164" alt="Cynthia, the hostess with the mostest"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220930180/" title="Dinner at Harris' Place by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2804/422 ... bd15_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Dinner at Harris' Place"></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220171639/" title="LOBSTER! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2493/422 ... 979f_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="LOBSTER!"></a>
I was tired but happy. It had been a long day. I was tuckered out from drinks, sun
http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N ... 082656538/
For the rest of you…..read on….
Boat Bites and Other Disasters: A Newbies Account of Sailing the Virgin Islands
Picture it: It’s a still and quiet December morning. Three couples scattered along the east side of North America….from the deep south of Tennessee….up to the hustle and bustle of the D.C. area…..and finally reaching up to the frosty shoreline of the St. John River in Canada……all are waking up at 3:00 a.m., dragging their sleepy bodies toward various airports….duffel bags and boarding passes in hand…. heading down to sunny St. Thomas to spend the next 8 days together aboard a 45 foot monohull sailboat in the clear warm waters of the Virgin Islands. Brought together by some twist of fate, a USVI message board, and a few jello shots, these 3 couples have barely met and two of them have never sailed.
Insanity? Sure it is. But what the hell…you only live once, right?
Let’s go sailing.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219848061/" title="Day 1: Arriving at Frenchtown Marina by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4027/421 ... 8b4e4e.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Day 1: Arriving at Frenchtown Marina"></a>
Tuesday, December 8
It was sometime after 10:00 a.m. when I looked across the Charlotte airport and saw a familiar face. Scubagirl!! I raced over to give a hug to my friend who, in the last 24 hours, had lost her power in a storm, left her favorite bra at home, left her travel cash sitting in Canada, and discovered a flat tire late on a Sunday night far from home. Hopefully, the bad karma monster had done its worst and had nothing left. Particularly since we were about to board (and were on the same plane).
We shared our flight to St. Thomas, arriving at 2:00 p.m. My husband, Matt, was shuffled off to the Avis counter while Mr. Scubagirl and I slurped our tiny cups of free rum that were stingier than a Chanel sample at Saks and Scubagirl scanned the baggage area for their luggage. Gromit and Mr. Gromit were arriving about an hour later, so Scubagirl waited at the airport while the rest of us took the luggage to the Frenchtown Marina. We dropped Mr. Scubagirl off at the boat with the bags and headed back to the airport. When we arrived, a smiling face greeted us with open arms. Gromit!!! The gang was all here.
We piled bodies and luggage and more bodies and more luggage into our rental and headed back to Frenchtown. We met CptJay at CYOA and he hooked us up with our home for the week: Island Sister, a 45 foot Hunter monohull.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219851885/" title="Island Sister by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2778/421 ... e082cd.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Island Sister"></a>
Gromit and I ran below and took a look at our cabins.
Eventually we did stop laughing.
I kept looking behind the doors, thinking maybe the size of the cabin was an optical illusion, like in a fun house, and there was actually a king sized bed that was going to pop out of the wall. Yeah…um….no.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220624406/" title="I have to sleep WHERE? by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4013/422 ... 6a86b2.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="I have to sleep WHERE?"></a>
We shoved our luggage in our teeny tiny cabins to deal with later. We needed to get provisions and I was STARVING. Knowing that if we went grocery shopping while I was hungry we’d come back with six bags of Doritos, 2 chocolate cakes, some mustard and no real food, we stopped in at the Frenchtown Deli for a quick snack.
The Grand Gobbler at the Frenchtown Deli was, as the girl behind the counter phrased it so eloquently, “the sandwich that changed my life.” I gobbled and away we went.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4221605549/" title="The Grand Gobbler at Frenchtown Deli by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2676/422 ... ef973d.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="The Grand Gobbler at Frenchtown Deli"></a>
Three shopping carts of groceries, 9 bottles of liquor, 2 cases of water, and one very confused check-out girl later (as in, “Can you put $68.29 on this credit card, $167.25 ½ on this one, and the rest on this one?”), Gromit, Scubagirl and I emerged from the grocery store with a receipt that was at least 4 feet long and more groceries than we could possible hope to fit into our rental car, much less that galley on the boat.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219855009/" title="Just where we need to be, the liquor aisle! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2701/421 ... 0c3ee7.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Just where we need to be, the liquor aisle!"></a>
We did have a small accident in the Pueblo parking lot when a case of Diet Coke fell off the top of our overloaded grocery mountain and one can exploded. We lost a good man that day, but his 11 comrades would still serve us well. We piled the bent and battered cans into the car and headed down to a gourmet market Scubagirl remembered being down by the waterfront. After wandering around the docks in the dark, we found our place, got our goodies, and headed back to the marina.
Boat Lesson #1 : Be careful where you put your groceries.
We discovered that milk only lasts about 2 days and the lettuce freezes. Chips go stale in a day and bread turns green and fuzzy before your eyes. We did what we could with the groceries and hoped for the best.
When grocery duty was done, we met CptJay and Deb at Hook, Line and Sinker for dinner. A lobster dinner, some good friends, and a little bit of rum washed travel day away.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4221635401/" title="LOBSTER! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2789/422 ... 01e3_m.jpg" width="240" height="164" alt="LOBSTER!"></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4221619139/" title="Dinner at Hook, Line, & Sinker with Deb and Jay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2563/422 ... cc07_m.jpg" width="240" height="164" alt="Dinner at Hook, Line, & Sinker with Deb and Jay"></a>
Or so we thought.
Gromit and I still had to unpack.
Before we unpacked, Mr. Scubagirl, aka “Our Fearless Captain,” talked dirty to us. More specifically, he told us how the head worked.
Boat Lesson # 2: It really sucks if you forget and accidentally toss your used TP in the toilet. That’s all I’m gonna’ say about that.
Potty Talk out of the way, it was time to figure out how to unpack 40 cubic feet of luggage into 10 cubic feet of locker space.
Gromit and I squared our shoulders, patted each other on the back for luck and headed into our cabins. Every few minutes you’d hear a loud “BANG!!!” followed by cursing under the breath as one of us forgot the ceiling was only 4 feet high. After about 15 minutes, Gromit wandered out of her cabin with a dazed look on her face, hands full of clothes,staring vacantly into space and said, “I have no hope. No hope.” She turned aimlessly and wandered back into her cabin. She had not yet resorted to babbling, drooling, and drawing on the wall with a crayon, so I saw it as a positive sign.
BANG!!!! Dammit.
Somehow we did the impossible and the bags were eventually stowed.
Boat Lesson #3: You get creative on a boat.
I had stuff hidden EVERYWHERE. No nook or cranny went unused. I even rigged up storage contraptions with clothes pins, rubber bands, and Ziplocs. Getting our luggage unpacked was a feat of engineering, I tell you.
We were sleeping aboard at the marina that night and as much as I was dreading it, it was time to crawl into that little bed and try to sleep.
I only hit my head 3 times during that first night.
Boat Lesson #4: Don’t sit up suddenly in your bunk in the middle of the night.
You only have about 18 inches of clearance. Sit up quickly in the night….BANG!!! Dammit.
Wednesday, December 9
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219865909/" title="View of St. Thomas by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4071/421 ... 67e43f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="View of St. Thomas"></a>
We were able to have “real” showers at the marina that morning. By “real” shower, I mean that you were able to shower with hot water, without a swimsuit on, and in a space that was bigger than 12” in diameter.
Still, it wasn’t exactly a “luxury” shower. It was a basic stall with no shelves to set your stuff on (you had to sort of juggle it in your hands) that had a shower curtain rigged up on a tenuously perched pole and a chain that you pulled and had to keep pressure on for water flow. This was not an optimal set up for a clumsy person. Lucky for me, I was alone in there because somehow, I managed to get all soaped up, had my shampoo in one hand, tried to pull the chain and hold it while I rinsed with the hand holding my shampoo, and then proceeded to stumble, drop my stuff, and knock my shower curtain down in the floor, where the rings all came off the rod as it spun across the room. I had to run out of my shower stall, scurry across the cement floor of the bathroom chasing my rod, and try to hook all the rings back on it while wearing nothing but rubber flip flops and squinting through a face full of shampoo suds.
When I got back to the boat from my shower, no one knew my shame. I hung my towel to dry on the side of the boat. It was time for food!
Breakfast took us back to the Frenchtown Deli. I was all for it, since they had the “sandwich that changed my life.” Not a huge egg eater, I got oatmeal and a bagel. I was hungry, so I got a large. Have you ever seen 16 ounces of oatmeal in one container? It isn’t pretty. Gromit and Scubagirl couldn’t eat for laughing at my food.
Do you even need to ask if I ate it all?
Even though we had so many groceries we needed a moving van to get them to the boat, we still needed a couple of forgotten items from the Pueblo, so Gromit and I headed out with me driving. Despite the poor driving skills I had displayed the night before, no one else was interested in trying to drive on St. Thomas, so Gromit was subjected to my ineptitude a second time. We headed out, chatting away.
“Left,” I heard Gromit say casually. I just kept chatting.
“Left,” she said again, a little more intensely. I just kept chatting.
“LEFT,” she said one last time, as I looked up just in time to see the car that I was about to have a head on collision as I drove down the right side of the road.
“This might be a good time to tell you I don’t know left from right,” I grinned as I swerved back into the left lane, narrowly missing the oncoming bumper as Gromit wiped the sweat off her brow. Funny thing is, she thought I was joking.
We managed to get back to the marina without a serious car accident and without Gromit stuffing me in the trunk to take over at the wheel. When we got back to the boat, I went to get my towel to put it back down in my cabin.
“Did you get my towel already?” I asked Matt.
“Haven’t seen it.”
I asked everyone. No one had moved it.
Boat Lesson #5: Unpinned towels sprout wings and fly.
Never, never, never, never ever put your towel, or any item of clothing for that matter, on a boat railing without a clothes pin. Or seven clothes pins. And some duct tape. Maybe a pad lock.
It was finally time to head out. Before we even managed to pull away from the dock, Gromit smacked her leg a good one and got the first “boat bite.” It was a doozy. Little did we know, Gromit would win the coveted title of “Boat Bite Queen.” By the end of the trip, we decided purple was definitely her color.
Boat Lesson #6 : Every fixture on a boat that sticks out, sticks up, or just plain sticks was designed to impale the most tender or bony part of your body as you walk by.
It was about 12:30 when we pulled out, CptJay waving goodbye and good luck.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220632950/" title="We're sailing! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4004/422 ... f18ebc.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="We're sailing!"></a>
For our first night, we were headed over to Leinster Bay on St. John. As we made our way over, Scubagirl showed Gromit and I our first “rain blob,” what looked like a rainbow that had spent a little too much time in the sun and had melted into a puddle of insane color on the horizon.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219871313/" title="Rain Blob by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4050/421 ... a22d01.jpg" width="500" height="360" alt="Rain Blob"></a>
Scubagirl had also warned us that the roughest ride of the trip would be the passage from St. Thomas to St. John. Was she ever right. Within the hour, we had a man down. Mr. Gromit was SICK. Gromit soon followed suit. They turned greener as the boat pitched and swayed its way toward St. John. Between the green of her face and the purple of her leg, Gromit was becoming more colorful by the minute.
“We need to make lunch. Food will actually help their seasickness,” Scubagirl said.
“What? Down THERE?” I said as I looked down into the kitchen as it swayed heavily to one side and then heavily to the other. “Are you NUTS??”
Boat lesson #7: Scubagirl is nuts.
The next thing I knew, I was standing with her in the galley with my legs spread about 2 feet apart so that I could shift my weight from side to side to keep my balance as we made turkey sandwiches with our supplies and plates literally sliding from one end of the counter to the other. It seriously felt like my body was spinning on a merry go round while my legs were on a see saw, it was so disorienting. The boat heaved. We smeared mustard. The boat pitched. We sliced cheese. The boat rocked. We piled on turkey.
We emerged, victorious, with a pile of mostly edible turkey sandwiches. We only dropped one on the floor. Sssshhh….I’m not telling whose.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219874035/" title="Leinster Bay, St. John by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2661/421 ... df6952.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Leinster Bay, St. John"></a>
We arrived at Waterlemon Cay around 4:00 in the afternoon. The sun had settled behind some clouds, so it wasn’t a great time to snorkel. Matt took a swim while Gromit and I did our next favorite thing: we broke out the rum. We mixed up some rum punch. After some drinking, Gromit felt that it needed a little “something extra” so we dumped in some Coco Lopez. That is how the Pink Painkiller was born.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220644022/" title="You invent the Pink Painkiller by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2764/422 ... 44320c.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="You invent the Pink Painkiller"></a>
Was it good? After a few rum punches we certainly thought it was. However, the fact that only Gromit and I would drink it should have told us something.
Boat Lesson #8: Coco Lopez doesn’t belong in everything.
For dinner, we grilled up some hot dogs and hamburgers and ate them in the fresh open air. I’m pretty sure they were the best hamburgers and hot dogs I have ever eaten.
Boat Lesson #9: EVERYTHING tastes better on a boat (except Coco Lopez and Hawaiian Punch).
It was finally time for our first night of “real boat sleep.” No marina, no air conditioner, lots of movement. We popped open our two little windows and drifted off much more easily than I could have imagined. It was surprisingly comfortable.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219876465/" title="Beautiful sunset at Leinster Bay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2555/421 ... d3f21c.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Beautiful sunset at Leinster Bay"></a>
Splat.
Splat splat.
Splat, splat, splatter, splat.
I woke up wondering if the dog was licking my face. I rolled, hoping that would make her quit so I could go back to sleep. I was tired. I had to work tomorrow.
Splat.
I sat up.
BANG!!! Dammit.
I ducked my head and realized 1) I was on a boat and 2) It was raining on my bed.
Matt never even flinched. He was out like a light. I think he would have drowned in there before he would have woken up. I jumped up and closed the 2 windows. I lay back down and drifted off.
Boat Lesson #10: When you close your windows for rain in the night, stay awake until the rain passes and open your windows back up before returning to sleep.
I woke up about 30 minutes later….dripping with sweat….certain that the boat had capsized in the night, that I had drowned, and that I was now in hell because that is the only place I could think of that could be that hot.
I groggily opened the windows back up and as the cool night breeze blew across my skin, I drifted back to sleep.
Splat.
Splat. Splat.
You have to be kidding me.
It was just a few short hours later and it was raining again. I went through the window ritual again, this time staying awake to reopen them, because I had figured out that it only rained for about 2 minutes.
Boat Lesson #11: It rains many times at night, but not for long.
I learned quickly that it rains at least 3 times every night, but only rains long enough to wake you up, get your bed wet, and force you to jump up, hit your head, and shut your windows. Just as you get the window shut, it quits again.
Thursday, December 10
Boat Lesson #12 : Coffee tastes better when it’s rocking to the rhythm of the waves in your cup.
We woke up to the serenity of Waterlemon Cay and the company of good friends. As I sat in the breezy morning air, sipping a cup of coffee, I think I truly realized the beauty of a sailing trip. It was glorious. It didn’t matter that all my possessions were crammed into a locker the size of a shoebox. The small cabins didn’t take away from it either. Neither did the rain in the middle of the night. This was truly wonderful and I felt blessed to have been asked to be a part of it.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220646902/" title="Day 3: Waking up at Leinster Bay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2553/422 ... d9d74f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Day 3: Waking up at Leinster Bay"></a>
We had coffee topside, followed by breakfast. Then Matt and I, Gromit and Mr. Gromit decided to snorkel Waterlemon.
Boat Lesson #13 : Having a small bedroom becomes way cooler when you realize you can snorkel just outside your window.
The one thing I really wanted to see but had never found snorkeling was an octopus. I had been paying attention, taking notes from Liamsaunt, and was DETERMINED to find one on this trip.
Guess what I saw within 5 minutes of getting in the water? Octopus.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220650082/" title="My first octopus...hiding! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2638/422 ... e1bb95.jpg" width="500" height="351" alt="My first octopus...hiding!"></a>
I did my underwater happy dance (which isn’t much better than my above water happy dance) and called Matt over to ensure that someone could validate my experience. The little bugger wouldn’t come out of his hidey hole, but I could see him all the same. I was happy. My first Octopus!
As we rounded the end of the cay, Matt blew a fin. The top of it ripped right off. Don’t worry. I towed him back to the boat. I’m awesome like that. Okay, the real truth is that I had Scubagirl’s fins and THEY are awesome like that.
Boat Lesson #14: Cheetos cure motion sickness.
We sunned on the boat for a bit and before we knew it, it was time to head to the BVI. The previous day, Gromit had discovered that, for her anyway, Cheetos were a cure for the queasy feeling she got when the boat started heaving its way through the water. She literally never got more than 3 feet from a bag of Cheetos for the rest of the trip. As we headed out, Gromit grabbed her Cheetos. Pretty soon, we were cruising into Tortola. First stop was Soper’s Hole to clear customs.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219895267/" title="Soper's Hole, Tortola by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2658/421 ... a24e45.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Soper's Hole, Tortola"></a>
I must confess here that, while Scubagirl is a natural beauty, Gromit and I are helplessly addicted to beauty products. So, while Scubagirl did no more to “get ready” than toss her naturally gorgeous hair to the wind, Gromit and I started spritzing and combing, brushing and spraying, trying to tame our sun freckled cheeks and sea frizzy locks, not yet ready to admit it was hopeless….as we had somehow become boat girls while we weren’t paying attention.
Now, I thought I was bad when it came to “products,” but I knew Gromit was the superior beauty addict when she pulled out 3 ziploc bags filled with every item that can be begged, borrowed, bought, or stolen from the Sephora beauty counter. I stood there in awe.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4221667899/" title="Getting pretty at Soper's Hole, Tortola by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2788/422 ... 68cf7f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Getting pretty at Soper's Hole, Tortola"></a>
Pretty. Shiny. Sparkly. Aaaahhh……
Scubagirl (and her perfect hair) just rolled her eyes.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4222010009/" title="Syd at Pusser's by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2494/422 ... b6858b.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Syd at Pusser's"></a>
We all did a little shopping, found the world’s largest flip flop, and headed over to Pusser’s for sustenance.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220654632/" title="Riding into Soper's Hole by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2607/422 ... 0054cc.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Riding into Soper's Hole"></a>
Delightful. We had painkillers by the number (#2 for 2 oz., #3 for 3 oz., or #4 for 4 oz…..I’m not telling who had what…..), wings, bang bang shrimp, nachos, and an awesome looking deep fried hot dog. Tip: Never order a mojito at Pusser’s. Someone decided it would be a good idea to serve Mr. Gromit’s mojito as a frozen blended drink. Everything was blended. Even the mint. Ever suck tiny pieces of mint up through a straw? Mr. Gromit has.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219899443/" title="Soper's Hole, Tortola by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2674/421 ... 1f11aa.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Soper's Hole, Tortola"></a>
Our captain let us know that we better be moving on if we were going to make it to Marina Cay in time to get a mooring ball before dark, so we piled back on the boat and headed off.
Boat Lesson #15: Always wear a clip on your hat on a boat. Oh, and blue hats are a bad idea.
About halfway to Marina Cay, Matt’s hat blew off. It was just a $10 hat, but you know men and their hats….well the next thing I knew, we were on a hat chase. We were using a 45 foot boat to find an small blue hat in a big blue sea. Mr. Scubagirl was whipping the boat around, Gromit was yelling “There it is!” and Mr. Gromit was trying to fish it out of the water with a pole. We must have circled around that darn hat for 10 minutes as it floated for an impossibly long time. How in the hell in stayed above water, I’ll never know. This insane hat dance ended when Gromit busted her toe, Mr. Gromit gave up with the pole, and Matt lept frantically off the back of the boat and just swam for it.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219902799/" title="There! There it is! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2796/421 ... 756151.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="There! There it is!"></a>
I know that at this point, Mr. Scubagirl had to be wondering WHY he had invited this motley crew on his sailing trip. Gromit had a severed toe, the boat’s front deck looked like a pig had been slaughtered on it, Mr. Gromit was running for the first aid kit, and Matt was trying to swim the mile back to the boat.
He did get the hat though.
We pulled up to Marina Cay just as the last of the daylight was fading from the sky. We grabbed a mooring ball and whipped up an easy dinner of Gromit’s wonderful marinated chicken on the grill and a Caesar salad.
Boat Lesson #16: Being able to step outside on deck at any moment is heaven.
After dinner, we noticed that you could see every star in the sky. The sky seemed impossibly big and the stars impossibly bright. We lay there listening to the water quietly lap against the sides of the boat while watching the night sky.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220670376/" title="Marina Cay sunrise by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2790/422 ... ae1903.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Marina Cay sunrise"></a>
Friday, December 11
Boat Lesson # 17: No matter what you do, everything you have will be damp within 2 days and your cabin will start to smell like an old gym shoe…and you will learn to love it.
We rose with the sunrise. I dug around in my locker looking for something dry to put on. Even the clothes that I hadn’t worn didn’t seem clean. Thankfully, Scubagirl had packed us lots of Febreeze and dryer sheets, which helped a lot. I did the “sniff test” on a few items and found something that wasn’t too offensive.
We had our breakfast on the boat. After eating, Mr. Scubagirl took the dinghy over to Marina Cay and Matt and I rode along.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219909849/" title="Marina Cay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4071/421 ... 2b16e7.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Marina Cay"></a>
We pulled up to the long dock that led to the little fuel building and I jumped out and did what I do: I started snapping pictures. I tend to do a lot of squatting and crawling on my hands and knees when I do “my thing” and noticed Mr. Scubagirl and Matt ahead of me, snorting and giggling like two girls. Figuring they were just immature men who did not understand “My Art,” I continued to do my thing. I proceeded to continue squatting and crawling along the dock until I heard a voice behind me.
“Ahem.”
I looked behind me and there was the most amused (and patient) gentleman I have ever seen, one who had apparently been stuck behind me for several minutes, because my squatting, crawling behind made it impossible for him to pass. I looked up at Matt and Mr. Scubagirl.
“Thanks, guys.” I said through clenched teeth. They just laughed some more.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220676982/" title="Marina Cay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2531/422 ... 80d36b.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Marina Cay"></a>
We did our thing for the webcam, walked around for a bit, and headed back to the boat.
It was time to sail for the Bitter End and Saba Rock.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219916357/" title="Sailing Girls! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2517/421 ... 76832e.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Sailing Girls!"></a>
Boat Lesson #18: Riding on the front of a sailboat is life at its very best.
This was true for me, anyway. I loved being up on the front of the boat, the wind whipping past me as we moved through the water. I loved the feel of the sun on my skin, the wind in my ears, and the salty spray on my face as we sliced through the sea. It didn’t feel like life could get any better than this. I finally knew how my dog feels when we go for a ride in the car.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220689378/" title="Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2754/422 ... 6a0387.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Saba Rock"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220684662/" title="Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4040/422 ... 1bcb88.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Saba Rock"></a>
We arrived at Saba Rock before lunch and hopped off so that everyone could take a walk around. That didn’t take long, because you can walk across this beautiful scrap of land in about 20 seconds flat.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219982887/" title="Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2744/421 ... 3a6c3c.jpg" width="500" height="355" alt="Saba Rock"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219987757/" title="Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2770/421 ... c1d84b.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Saba Rock"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220758112/" title="Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4031/422 ... 63b447.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Saba Rock"></a>
Back on the boat, lunch was smoked salmon wraps made with salmon that Scubagirl had brought down from Canada. That stuff was so good it should be illegal.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4219998603/" title="Bitter End Yacht Club by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2637/421 ... 1ebda2.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Bitter End Yacht Club"></a>
After I fought Mr. Scubagirl for the last bite, we headed over to the Bitter End Yacht Club in search of Scubagirl’s favorite drink: The Lemon Crush.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220770624/" title="Ahhh....the Lemon Crush.... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4070/422 ... 5ac0a7.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Ahhh....the Lemon Crush...."></a>
We did a little shopping and walked around to see what there was to see. I stumbled onto their carved “Island Girls” which gave me a SERIOUS body complex and made me stop to consider the pros and cons of implants before I was dragged away to the bar.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220766300/" title="Oh, yeah....THOSE.... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2697/422 ... 96a05e.jpg" width="500" height="402" alt="Oh, yeah....THOSE...."></a>
The Lemon Crush at the Bitter End Yacht Club is excellent. And not just because I was feeling vulnerable.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220009641/" title="Bitter End Yacht Club by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4053/422 ... 3b150f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Bitter End Yacht Club"></a>
Matt found a sailing yacht that I believe he would have traded me for, but we finally managed to pry his gripping, sweaty fingers off its hull and drag him away. I’m pretty sure he was crying, but it might just be that we got sand in his eyes during the struggle.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220776864/" title="picnikfile_vKvfmz by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2709/422 ... 3edbb1.jpg" width="346" height="500" alt="picnikfile_vKvfmz"></a>
We all took a walk along BEYC’s beachfront and checked out their restaurant and facilities. It was a pretty place.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220780228/" title="Bitter End Yacht Club by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2562/422 ... 6157db.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Bitter End Yacht Club"></a>
After hanging at the bar, we took the dingy over to the Sand Box Bar on Prickly Pear Island. I wasn’t sure the place was open as we pulled up onto the perfect little beach. There was no one around and the place looked deserted. Gromit and Mr. Gromit had already been dropped off and we were trying to locate them.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220783932/" title="Prickly Pear Island by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4065/422 ... 6d1562.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Prickly Pear Island"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220786854/" title="Prickly Pear Island by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4049/422 ... 5e6beb.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Prickly Pear Island"></a>
Then I heard it.
Holy Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus. It was awful. I was certain someone was hurt. Or an animal was stuck in a trap. Or maybe someone was being tortured. There were some cats around….maybe one of them was sick.
The agonized wailing rose and fell on the breeze as we walked up to the bar. As we neared the bar, it got louder and more exuberant. I saw Gromit and the look on her face was priceless.
“WTF???” I mouthed to Gromit as I made my way closer.
Then I saw him.
It was the live entertainment.
Although…..I’m pretty sure he wasn’t actually PAID entertainment. It appeared to be a bleary eyed guy with a CD boom box and a microphone sitting at the bar, stoned out of his ever loving mind, moaning to the music in the most incoherent and tone deaf manner possible. When he saw us staring, mouths agape, he winked at us and carried on even louder, like he was Bob Marley himself. He seriously thought he was rockin’ it.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220795134/" title="The WORST live entertainment EVER by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2647/422 ... 7e0e77.jpg" width="500" height="384" alt="The WORST live entertainment EVER"></a>
Truth is, he was killing it…and killing it painfully from the sound of it. It was so bad, I felt queasy. I sat there, torn between wanting to throw myself onto the bar and wrench the microphone from his hands in order to save the others and wishing I had a video camera so that I could put this tragedy on YouTube, when the bartender broke my stunned silence.
“I’m going to need a really strong drink,” I said to the bartender as Matt elbowed me in the ribs.
As the wailing continued, we grabbed a round of drinks and headed to spread out in some chairs on their beautiful beach. The wailing went on for an eternity. Blessedly, he finally stopped when it became necessary for him to go light one up on the beach.
Thank god for small favors.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220027639/" title="Girl feet. by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4001/422 ... 411bb8.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Girl feet."></a>
It was getting late in the afternoon, so we finally headed back to the boat for showers.
Boat Lesson #19: Get used to showering with an audience and without hot water.
Why? Because showering on the back of the boat in your swimsuit is so much better than trying to shower in the shoebox sized indoor shower stall, where you hit your elbows and your head and if you drop your soap, you have to open the stall door to have the space to bend down and pick it up.
Real friends don’t mind watching you scrub sand off your butt.
We headed back to Saba Rock for a dinner of mojitos (blessedly unblended) and fish and chips and before we knew it, it was time to call it quits for another day.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220798790/" title="Dinner at Saba Rock by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4016/422 ... 32c7b3.jpg" width="500" height="380" alt="Dinner at Saba Rock"></a>
And don’t worry, no skeleton pirates were harmed in the making of this photo.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220803886/" title="Shiver me timbers.... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2645/422 ... 57a0b4.jpg" width="393" height="500" alt="Shiver me timbers...."></a>
Nights on the boat were deliciously cool, breezy, and filled with stars. I could think of worse places to be.
Saturday, December 12
We got up early and started the journey to Jost Van Dyke, wanting to get there as early as possible.
Boat Lesson #20: When the captain says “We’re leaving early tomorrow,” that means get your coffee made early.
As I sat on the counter in the galley next to the stove, holding my pot of coffee onto the burner with a pair of vice grips as the boat heaved to and fro…I realized what Mr. Scubagirl meant when he said, “Get everything done early.” Apparently, I wasn’t early enough.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220043045/" title="Day 5: Coffee and Vice Grips by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4053/422 ... e67d25.jpg" width="377" height="500" alt="Day 5: Coffee and Vice Grips"></a>
Speaking of coffee, we had to make 2 pots every day because my coffee got “voted off the island” by every member of the crew on Day 1. Well, except our captain. On Day 2, as I was making my pot of coffee and asked if anyone else wanted to share it, just as everyone else shouted “NO!!!!!!” Mr. Scubagirl looked at me and said, “Yeah…I kinda’ like the swill.”
Well, because we had the whole vice grips issue going on this morning, we didn’t want to have to make 2 pots of coffee, so Scubagirl and I were trying to compromise.
“How many scoops do you put in for 10 cups?” I asked her.
“Six,” she said.
“I put in 12,” I said, “How about we do 12? You can add some water to yours.”
“That works,” she said.
I started putting the heaping scoops in the pot.
“If you’re going to heap them like that, just do 10,” she said.
“Fine, fine, fine,” I replied, “How many is that so far? Three?”
“Nice try!” she said, “That was 8!”
Hey, can’t blame a girl for trying, can you?
Thirty minutes of vice grip percolating later, my butt was hot and sweaty and my hand was in a permanent claw, but Vicki’s Supersludge Coffee was ready! Don’t let them lie to you either, they secretly liked it. I know they did. I could see it in their shaking hands and dilated pupils. I heard a rumor that Gromit went into Starbucks the other day and asked if they could use 16 scoops in her Espresso.
We made a quick stop at Marina Cay for fuel and ice and I used the time for more photo ops, during which I managed not to squat in front of any strangers but during which I did manage to annoy the hell of a pelican for about 15 minutes. Then we were on our way to Jost.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220046533/" title="Fueling at Marina Cay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4019/422 ... f09eeb.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Fueling at Marina Cay"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220048967/" title="Fueling at Marina Cay by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4058/422 ... 90978a.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Fueling at Marina Cay"></a>
Boat Lesson #21: Sailing feels like you are flying on the water.
Sitting at the front of the boat, with the wind in my hair was like flying. I was tempted to do the whole “Titanic” bit, but I thought that might be a bit much.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220816794/" title="Sailing to Jost by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2706/422 ... 24d695.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Sailing to Jost"></a>
As we neared Great Harbor, I couldn’t help but smile. This happy little island always greets you with a warm breezy hug and a salty kiss. I could already hear Mic putting the nutmeg on my painkiller and could feel the cool water of White Bay swirl around my feet. Gromit, Mr. Gromit, Matt and I headed landside while Scubagirl and Mr. Scubagirl decided to take it easy on the boat. After a quick stroll down Great Harbor’s sandy main street, we grabbed a taxi over to White Bay.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220056301/" title="Foxy's by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2797/422 ... 15223f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Foxy's"></a>
The first order of business was a visit to Mic for a painkiller. His smile alone is worth $6. Painkillers were followed by drinks from Gertrude’s “pour your own” bar. Another tip, never let Matt pour yours….unless you want it to taste like gasoline. Drinks were followed by a cool swim, lounging in the sun, and walking in the sand.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220059165/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2616/422 ... ffca2e.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220062641/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2591/422 ... eb7c5d.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
We even bumped into Cpt. Brandi at the Soggy Dollar and managed to make a video without any of us drooling or falling face down in the sand. When you have to be on video while inebriated, it helps to have one member of your party who is a PR Wiz so that the rest of you can just smile stupidly, nod a lot, and toss out the occasional thumbs up or stupidly intoxicated “woo hoo!” like some idiot girl on MTV Spring Break. Not that I did that.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220066555/" title="Drink it fast, he says... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4009/422 ... 592d_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Drink it fast, he says..."></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220069199/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2643/422 ... 6517_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220835856/" title="Pour your own... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2546/422 ... bafe89.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Pour your own..."></a>
Eventually all that relaxation made us hungry, so we grabbed some food from Gertrude’s kitchen. Gromit swears the wings were some of the best she’s ever had and my roti was so good I was licking it off my arm. Okay, that last bit might have had something to do with the fact that I am a messy eater after a Gertrude’s Pour Your Own Matt Style Drink.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220074783/" title="Wings! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4024/422 ... 7180_m.jpg" width="240" height="164" alt="Wings!"></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220841464/" title="Hey...I didn't have a napkin. by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2580/422 ... 9668_m.jpg" width="240" height="181" alt="Hey...I didn't have a napkin."></a>
While we were snacking, Matt made a new friend, a little brown Chihuahua with two gimpy legs. Have you ever noticed that there never seems to be a shortage of interesting dogs on Jost? Sucker for dogs that I am, he got about half of my roti…well, the half I didn’t have to lick off my arm.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220080555/" title="Say "hello" to my little friend... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4026/422 ... 078588.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Say "hello" to my little friend..."></a>
When it was time to head back to the boat, we went looking for our taxi driver. We had told him to meet us near the Soggy Dollar at a certain time. Gromit and I walked (staggered) down the beach in search of him and I saw a guy in a red polo and I just ASSUMED it was our taxi driver. You know what they say about assuming, don’t you? And please, no jokes, I heard more than my share that day from Gromit.
Anyway, thinking this was my guy, I walked (staggered) up to him and said, “Is it time?”
In retrospect, and viewed in sobriety, this was probably not the most intelligent thing to walk up and say to a strange man who was, in fact, not my taxi driver. It could have sounded a bit propositioning. Could have.
Which might be why he then offered me some weed and said he thought it was time.
Gromit dragged me away, laughing, as I stared stupidly, still trying to comprehend why our taxi driver had just offered me weed.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4222623824/" title="Taxi! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2639/422 ... ab64ac.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Taxi!"></a>
As the red polo guy trailed behind us….we did find our actual taxi guy just in the nick of time. We piled in and were off to Great Harbor.
When we got to Foxy’s, Mr. Gromit, aka The Gadget Master, pulled out his 007 Walkie Talkie which was infinitely better than my idea of jumping up and down on the end of the dock waving my arms.
Sidebar: Mr. Gromit is truly the Gadget Master. Need a flashlight? He pulls out some supercharged light saber with a 400 foot beam. Worried your luggage is too heavy? Oh, he just happens to have a luggage scale in his pocket. Not sure what that plant on the beach is? Wait, Mr. Gromit has a plant analyzer in his pocket that will immediately break down its chemical components and tell you what it is. Okay, maybe I am exaggerating…but not much! He is a master of all things technological, I tell you.
Mr. Scubagirl made the pick up and we were back on Island Sister for a beautiful sunset and a great dinner of Gromit’s marinated filet cooked on the grill and plantains. That girl knows her meat, folks…that thing was so tender I could cut it with a butter knife. Sun soaked and full, it was nearing “boat bedtime” and we were all getting sleepy.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220082991/" title="Sunset at Great Harbor, Jost by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2521/422 ... 5f8a9e.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Sunset at Great Harbor, Jost"></a>
Boat Lesson #22: No matter who you are, no matter what you do, you get sleepy on a boat by 9:00 p.m.
We probably turned in at the late, late hour of oh….about 9:30 p.m. I drifted off to the gentle rocking of the boat and the soft sound of the waves.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!!
What the?
BEEP! BEEP!
I jumped up.
BANG! Dammit.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Half asleep and 100% disoriented, my brain couldn’t figure out where I was much less figure out what that incessant beeping was.
Matt jumped up.
BANG! Dammit.
We both started scrambling, certain that we had some sort of important sensor in our cabin, like a carbon monoxide detector…knowing that we surely had only moments before we would all either die from inhalation or the boat would explode. We tore into our locker, pulling everything out….we scrambled in the small cabinet….we checked our phones, our iPods….where was that infernal beeping coming from????
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
I finally grabbed my little Roxy iPod speaker case and held it up to my ear.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Ah Ha! I found it! Somehow, we had accidentally set the alarm in the Roxy. Whew. We shut the thing off, got our cabin put back together, and drifted back to sleep.
Splat! Splat! Splatty splat splat!
Seriously? I sighed as I crawled to the windows to close them for rain. I waited …..listening to the rain pour for all of about 3 minutes…I reopened my windows and drifted back to sleep with the cool breeze blowing across my body.
Sunday, December 13
Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday dear Gromit, Happy Birthday to you!
Today was Gromit’s birthday and we were spending it on Jost because there could be no better place to spend a birthday, could there? We made a birthday breakfast fit for a queen of bacon, eggs, and banana bread and cinnamon rolls that we had picked up at Christine’s bakery the previous afternoon. We “got ready” which, even for me and Gromit at this point, consisted of throwing on a swimsuit and grabbing a towel.
Boat Lesson #23 : Minimizing “stuff” is freeing….not having to worry about lots of luggage, clothes, shoes, curling irons, hair spray….is bliss.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220086747/" title="Which way is the bathroom? by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2588/422 ... 898f83.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Which way is the bathroom?"></a>
After breakfast, Mr. Scubagirl took us all in to Great Harbor where we grabbed a taxi to White Bay.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220853936/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2642/422 ... bfe116.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
Boat Lesson #24 : After being on a boat for a few days, you find that when you hit land, you will unconsciously stand and sway gently back and forth.
Gromit and I noticed early on that whenever we hit land, we’d stand and sway, back and forth, back and forth, unconsciously, apparently in an effort to cope with our new sea legs. If one person did it and the other one didn’t, we actually felt seasick. So…we stood….we swayed….we conquered.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220092455/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2733/422 ... 36ce52.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4222487152/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2780/422 ... c579b4.jpg" width="372" height="500" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
We piled up in some rent-a-chairs at Jewel’s and let the limin’ begin. Matt and I wandered down to the Soggy Dollar to see what Mic could hook us up with. I had enough painkillers the day before and wanted to try something new….I ordered my drink. Mic actually laughed as he started to make it.
“One, two,” he said as he pulled out a bottle of rum and poured it into a glass of ice. He chuckled. He put it away and pulled out another bottle of rum.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220860082/" title="Mic is hooking me up with a Soggy Man by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2721/422 ... 3af1_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Mic is hooking me up with a Soggy Man"></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220863130/" title="Soggy Man - 10 different rums....woo hoo! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2485/422 ... 8f11_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Soggy Man - 10 different rums....woo hoo!"></a>
“One, two,” he said again as he put it away, laughed, and pulled out a third bottle of rum. “One, two.”
Finally, I laughed and asked just how many bottles of rum he was going to pour into my glass.
“Ten,” he said, and started laughing again. “One, two.”
Ten flavors it was, with just a splash of grenadine on top. That my friends, is a Soggy Man. And it was delish. I don’t know how something with so much rum could taste so good, but I say it’s just the magic of Jost.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220147173/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4054/422 ... 3d5c3e.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
We bought some t-shirts, took a walk, soaked in the beautiful water, and lounged in the sun. It was hard work, but somebody had to do it. Gromit had brought us a jug o’ rum punch (thank goodness the Pink Painkiller had mercifully been thrown out by this point) and we had a glass under the swaying palms, watching the Sunday party boat armada as it made its way into White Bay.
Eventually, hunger took over and we headed over to Seddy’s One Love for lunch with Gromit and Mr. Gromit.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220143881/" title="Seddy's by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4071/422 ... 7fe046.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Seddy's"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220101985/" title="Time for lunch at Seddy's by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2690/422 ... 399227.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Time for lunch at Seddy's"></a>
One of the girls in the bar was also having a birthday and they shared the birthday champagne with Gromit. We asked what their house drink was and were told they had the best bushwacker…so birthday bushwackers it was!
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220105345/" title="That's talent. by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2709/422 ... 7bc24d.jpg" width="388" height="500" alt="That's talent."></a>
Matt ordered a lobster salad sandwich that I must say was one of the best looking things I have ever seen. I had the lobster which came with peas n’ rice, corn, and cole slaw. The food was excellent, the drinks were frosty, and we even had some live music for entertainment.
Seddy’s even gave us a round of shots in honor of Gromit’s birthday.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220873592/" title="Birthday shots for Kala! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2649/422 ... 85801f.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Birthday shots for Kala!"></a>
The party continued to arrive, filling the waters of White Bay, tanned bodies lining the sand and laughter filling the air around the Soggy Dollar. Scubagirl and Mr. Scubagirl headed over to the Soggy Dollar for lunch and Matt and I followed. Rueben was about to play and apparently, I felt like I needed another drink.
Drink count for Vicki so far: 1 Soggy Man (which is like….nine drinks….okay, for me anyway….), 1 Rum Punch, 1 Bushwacker, 1 Seddy’s Shot, and now another Soggy Man. To say that I can’t hang with the big dogs is an understatement. Hell folks, I can’t hang with the two legged Chihuahua.
I was getting soggy, man.
It was at this point that I decided it would be a good idea to walk the goat trail over to Ivan’s. Barefoot. And soggy. But then again, I’m the one that hiked the Reef Bay Trail up and down in flip flops and with no water.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220112351/" title="Walking to Ivan's by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2575/422 ... 8a3270.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Walking to Ivan's"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220115441/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2798/422 ... 6d7f69.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220883542/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2754/422 ... 9605ba.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
FYI: Don’t take the trail from the Soggy Dollar to Ivan’s barefoot unless you want to have significantly less skin on some of your toes and at least one big bruise on the bottom of your foot when you’re done. Trust me on this one.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220121755/" title="Where are my shoes??? by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2702/422 ... cf0dfd.jpg" width="341" height="500" alt="Where are my shoes???"></a>
Somehow, I made it across what seemed like an infinite beach strewn with sharp rocks. Victory!
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220889764/" title="Made it! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2521/422 ... 5e16_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Made it!"></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220893328/" title="Very bad victory dance... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2640/422 ... 5a25_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Very bad victory dance..."></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220131823/" title="picnikfile_E8bohn by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2542/422 ... 18e5_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="picnikfile_E8bohn"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220899374/" title="This is what you call "one drink too many" by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4045/422 ... f894_m.jpg" width="169" height="240" alt="This is what you call "one drink too many""></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220902360/" title="Or two too many... by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2632/422 ... 0b05_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Or two too many..."></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220904896/" title="Freak. by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2533/422 ... 226d_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Freak."></a>
I think if you run those photos together really fast, you can actually see my above water happy dance, but I would not recommend it because it is so ugly it has been known to scare small children and make old ladies cry. There is a reason I was always the last one picked for dodge ball.
We did a little hanging (and swinging) at Ivan’s before heading back over to the Soggy Dollar.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220915780/" title="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2779/422 ... e82aca.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220154843/" title="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4052/422 ... eee31d.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220157841/" title="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4071/422 ... 6cd078.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="Ivan's, White Bay, Jost"></a>
When we got back, Gromit pulled out the rum punch and we headed for the water. Yes, it was classy, we were drinking it right from the jug at this point. But come on, we were next to the Woody’s boat and had a group with beer bongs in the water next to us. When in Rome, right? Anyway, I told you, I was soggy. I can’t be held accountable for my actions. Besides, it was Gromit’s birthday. No rules of propriety apply when it’s a girlfriends birthday.
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220160799/" title="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2500/422 ... 04aec3.jpg" width="500" height="341" alt="White Bay, Jost Van Dyke"></a>
Remember that I said we’d lost Scubagirl to pirates the day before when Cpt. Brandi had us on video without her? Well, it was at this point that I made a daring rescue, swimming beyond the party boats, risking life and limb to rescue Scubagirl from the dread pirates. I leapt aboard their ship, smashing two of my toes and bruising my foot in the process. I then heaved my beloved iPhone at them, shattering it, and threw my book at someone’s head as a distraction. I fought valiantly, suffering great personal loss and sustaining battle wounds, but we got her back.
Or….I might have had too much to drink, tried to walk the path from the Soggy Dollar to Ivan’s and bruised my foot and smashed my toes on the rocks because drunk people often forget things like shoes, lost my book, and dropped my phone under my chair where I proceeded to sit my butt on it and smash it’s screen…but who really knows.
Boat Lesson #25 : You can meet wonderful strangers from a sailboat.
When we finally headed back to the boat, Scubagirl told us that we’d had a visit and a great dinner offer from Cynthia at Harris’ Place in Little Harbor. Free mooring for the night plus the first round of drinks free. Harris’ Place is right on the water, next to Sydney’s Peace & Love. She made us an offer we couldn’t refuse and did it with such a beautiful smile, we didn’t want to.
We arrived at Harris’ Place and were immediately drawn in by the twinkling lights and warm smile of Cynthia, the hostess with the most-est. Mr. Scubagirl, Mr. Gromit, and Scubagirl ordered the BBQ plate and the rest of us asked for “the biggest lobsters they had.” Drinks arrived and we had some of the best painkillers and bushwackers on the island. These were quickly followed by our choice of lobster bisque or black bean soup and the best homemade bread EVER. Next up were salads. When the main courses arrived, she brought out a lobster that looked like something that should be on the Discovery Channel…so big it looked prehistoric…along with peas n’ rice and cole slaw. We were so full we thought we’d rupture, but the homemade desserts were too good to pass up: fresh coconut cake, caramel and banana pie, key lime pie, chocolate cake….it was bliss. She even brought Gromit’s with a birthday candle and a chorus of “Happy Birthday.”
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220927608/" title="Dinner at Harris' Place by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4061/422 ... 9211_m.jpg" width="240" height="164" alt="Dinner at Harris' Place"></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220168929/" title="Cynthia, the hostess with the mostest by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2717/422 ... 63d7_m.jpg" width="240" height="164" alt="Cynthia, the hostess with the mostest"></a>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220930180/" title="Dinner at Harris' Place by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2804/422 ... bd15_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="Dinner at Harris' Place"></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/42427255@N00/4220171639/" title="LOBSTER! by Vicki_H, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2493/422 ... 979f_m.jpg" width="164" height="240" alt="LOBSTER!"></a>
I was tired but happy. It had been a long day. I was tuckered out from drinks, sun
Last edited by AnyTing on Mon Dec 28, 2009 12:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
We've been looking forward to this, another great trip report. thank you!
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sailorgirl
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michigancouple
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California Girl
Yep, I had to take a quick peek at the photos first.
GORGEOUS!
My favorite one is of you on the tire swing;-a wonderful delight...
I haven't committed to read the TR's yet, as I'm sure it'll take the better part of a day for me. I gotta' kinda' "gear myself up" for that kind of thing; looks like an emotional investment, being all green with envy & what not.
Looks like ya'll had the time of your lives, though. Good for you!!!
Thanks and always
Smiles-
MJ
GORGEOUS!
My favorite one is of you on the tire swing;-a wonderful delight...
I haven't committed to read the TR's yet, as I'm sure it'll take the better part of a day for me. I gotta' kinda' "gear myself up" for that kind of thing; looks like an emotional investment, being all green with envy & what not.
Looks like ya'll had the time of your lives, though. Good for you!!!
Thanks and always
Smiles-
MJ
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Greenskeeper
- Posts: 390
- Joined: Sat Mar 08, 2008 2:07 pm
- Location: Cape Cod, MA