Well, my week rounded out nicely this time ’round, in a few good ways. Thursday was Yankee Thanksgiving here, so celebration ensued, a friend got his sailboat launched after a season of re-building, and i was dragged from my Saturday morning bed for a race Round Tortola.

(more…)

Thursday night was the annual Thanksgiving Potluck at The Jolly Roger in West End, a short walk from my place. Owner Lou Schwartz cooked 13 turkeys for the free event, which was well-attended by tourists and “West Endians” alike. It was a chance to see many familiar faces from my spring visit all in one place. Just that day, several folks had just gotten into town, some on delivery, some aboard their own boats, and others freshly flown in. The end of the evening was a magical time. For whatever reason, i’ve really been taken into the West End fold; after all the tourists were gone, there was just the one table of us, right on the dock. The moon was a great and shining overhead, and just by our elbows great bats were skimming along the water, collecting bugs from the pools of glowing ocean highlighted by the JR’s docklights. Robin saluted us with a beer and a mischievious grin, exclaiming, “Aha! Just us West Endians left!”, before half-falling into his dingy to wind and wobble his way back across the bay.
Friday was a dirty day at work; repacking the 12 wheel bearings on our industrial articulated boat trailer. They’ve discovered that i’m something of a mechanic around here, so i usually end up with the greasy end of the stick, so to speak. No matter; there’s a certain meditative peace to cleaning and packing bearings.

(okay, here is where i have to re-write everything else… a fluky BVI power outage/telephone failure garbled the rest of this post, so i’ll just have to start over… grrr…)

Late that afternoon, i got out for a sail. Spencer had been working in all his spare time to ready his Sonar for sea, and just that day, Brodie and Mike had made him an early Christmas gift of the last payments on his new sails. Another Endian, Jim, had been playing “rigging elf”, popping by the yard on his own free time to get the newly-refurbished mast back in and tune the rigging. Spencer was beside himself at the prospect of getting out for a first sail, and i felt honoured to be invited along!
Without a motor, i swam off the stern as a “human outboard” to get us clear of the boatyard docks, then, in the lightest of breezes, we set sail and ghosted out through the many moored boats towards La Buscadora to retrieve Brodie. With the lady safely aboard, and still with just a breath of wind, we made a few gybes out into the channel. Spencer had me take the tiller, and then magic happened.
The sun dropped o’er the edge of the world with the alarming rapidity of the tropics. Likewise, the full moon popped up from behind Mt. Carmel, and just then, a bottlenose mother and baby frolicked their way just past our bows into the harbour. The wind picked up from a whisper to a polite chuckle, and the water began to burble beneath the counter. We tacked and gybed through the moored boats of the outer anchorage, where no doubt there were a few salty eyes admiring our play.
All my summertime sailing dingy practice paid off with a perfect sail to the mark, just kissing the fenders alongside La Buscadora, making the turn to weather and backing the main just so. Planning an industrious Saturday, i begged off early, and Spencer zipped me back to Kelly’s in his dingy.
i rose to my alarm at 7:00 Saturday morning, but my initiative began to fall away. By 8:00, a breakfast in my belly and a splash of water on my face, i’d settled into a book with an ear towards the radio, when a frantic knocking came at my door. It was Di, a woman i’d been briefly introduced to a few weeks back, practically begging me to crew on her & her husband’s race boat for the Round Tortola Race. i really couldn’t refuse! Of 8 crew, only 4 of us were sailors, so i ended up in a “skilled” position, trimming jib and spinnaker. This was a real treat for me, as this is usually a job for someone with greater training. However, i managed pretty well, and after a a few hours, we made it around Tortola in 2nd place. Bungie and Di are members of the “lah-dih-dah” Royal BVI Yacht Club, with more than a hint of monied British snobbery about them, but they’ve made me a standing offer to crew for them on whatever races i can make it to. The next opportunity is next weekend, a two-day regatta through the Loyal West End Yacht Club, but i’ve already volunteered to serve with the Race Committee aboard Kuralu.
Tonight has me invited to another Thanksgiving poluck, this one hosted by a couple that caretakes a private luxury villa high on the Mt. Carmel – Steele Point ridgeline, with (so i’m told) spectacular views of both Soper’s Hole to the south and Smuggler’s Cove to the north, with all the various islands beyond. i’ll have to take my camera and catch a few rays!

An interesting sailboat showed up in Soper’s Hole overnight. Georgia was easily identified at anchor in the outer harbour by her maroon hull and towering 5-spreader rig.
The boat watch continues…

Had an interesting convo with Tracy a few nights ago. i’m not too sure where we got started, but talk ended up being about just being here, and the commitment required. She brought up the interesting point that James has been trying to get one of his close woodworking friends to move down here for years, but that the fellow couldn’t make himself take the leap. She reiterated that they both felt that it was pretty incredible that i’d made a many-years commitment to working and being here based on just a few weeks of knowing them, and knowing this place.
Sailing has really taught me that; once you get out there, there’s no turning back. i’ve been dreaming and scheming about a life on the water for years. The one great thing that held me back (though i never realized it at the time) was my own fear of failure. i’ve always been the sort of person who has been strong at the sound of the gun, but usually too short-winded for the long haul. i knew that much, at least, and it was really important to me that i make a real proper go of it. i was just unaware of how frightened i was of the alternative.
Since i started sailing a couple years ago, i’ve become less frightened, yet more aware that i must succeed. i must do the hard things, and make the commitment. The reward is larger in my mind than the trade-offs. However, it seems like i may end up leaving alot of loved one in my lee to get there. i got a letter a couple days ago from Marla in Ukie, asking my opinion on what to do or where to place “my” cat Boiler. Boiler was the only true and honest companion i’ve ever had, and i’ve left him behind to chase the sea. Boiler is in good hands, but am i? i wonder…
My last relationship was ended, in part, by fear; fear of a shared future, fear of losing self control, fear of commitment. Fear of going back to the Caribbean. These are fears to which i shall not myself succumb. For some people, the grass will always be greener on the other side of the fence, but there’s no fences where i’m headed. My course is set for me, for i’ve set it so. Things scare me; i will overcome them. Life is hard; i will survive. The world is full of hatred and apathy; i will continue loving. False friends abound; i will remain true.
Ultimate commitment, i guess, is not a promise to anyone else. It’s a promise to myself.

Up early, a fair breakfast in m’belly, and off to the boatyard to collect my electrical tools. Mike met me on the dock around 8:30, and Spencer drove the tender over from La Buscadora to take us out. So started a great Saturday!

(more…)

After a leisurely morning coffee and another tour (this time it was from the Owner/Captain instead of the Chef/Mate), i set to some electrical work in the galley and bilge. The electrical work is a nice break from the usual boatyard grind.
Mike wanted me to do the work (i’m not too sure where/how my reputation has preceded me, but at least it’s positive!), but we hadn’t agreed on a price. Well, i hate to talk money like that, but Mike is a pretty straight-forward and practical guy… and also a certified PADI divemaster who owns a luxury dive-charter business. Hmmm…
So, instead of the usual $40-$60/hour that a marine electrician might charge to drive out from town and do the work, we agreed on $25/hour plus all the scuba diving and private scuba instruction i can manage to fit in between now and their next charter… in late December. Not a bad deal at all!
Spencer and Brodie, the couple that crews the boat, are incredible hosts. They provided me with a great lunch, a fantastic dinner, and more rum & cokes than are probably healthy. Spencer is from the US east coast, but who (through family connections) holds dual US-Canadian citizenship. A fine sailor, a knowledgeable fellow, and a fantastic chef! Brodie is actually from Bowen Island on the BC coast, but whose family is divided between here and there; she’s lived just about everywhere in between, it seems. i find it inspiring to meet a young couple travelling and adventuring together on the water.
We rounded out the evening with many tall tales, a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit, and a whooping midnight leap 16 feet or so off the flybridge into the dark salty warmth of the Caribbean Sea.
A fine end to a fine day!