The sail to Martinique is more exciting than I thought, though we are reefed. They say the big rollng waves come all the way from Africa.
Vern will not let me touch the boat. Not a line, not a winch, not a thing. I find out later that Vern has let others help him sail. Linda thinks it is because I am female, with no other male crew on the boat. I think it is because I'm female and A CON ARTIST.
I offered to hold the sail tie-downs. Just as you would expect from a Mr. Crankypants, he rasped, "Don't touch anything."
I also find out that he was an engineering professor and probably has Aspergers, which is hard to tell from an old guy who only bark orders in a whispy yet stern monotone.
Don't make me tell you about how I scuttle out of the cockpit right after we eat, when Vern massages Linda's feet in his... lap... and groans. Don't make me tell you.
Anyway, we finally get to Martinique. Anchoring. Anchoring involves us motoring for 20 minutes around and around the anchorage with the two of them SHOUTING THE ENTIRE TIME!!! He is a FUCKING IDIOT RETARD! Doesn't SHE HAVE EARS! WHERE IS HER BRAIN! VERN THERE'S A SWIMMER IN FRONT OF US! LINDA I SAID TO GO RIGHT! VERN THERE'S A SWIMMER IN THE WAY! GO RIGHT! GO RIGHT! BACK UP BACK UP DO YOU NOT SEE THE SWIMMER!?
People who have been lazily reading or sunning on deck sit up and gape. Every single boat in the anchorage sees these J Friends who are not jolly and not friends.
Anchoring takes four or five tries, always. We're slipping. We're too close. The bottom's not right. There's a better spot over there. We raise anchor. We start from scratch.
Martinique looks so... French. Shabby Chic French. The boats around us are all French.
Vern flies the Martinique flag and the yellow flag. Yellow: No one can visit us, and we can visit no one. We cannot leave the boat. We are not checked into the country. We are quarantined.
But Linda and I simply jump in the water and swim to shore.
Silly, silly rules.
I'm a wetback in Martinique!
We look awful. We are in ratty wet sandy clothes among all the chic French tourists. We yearn for a drink or a snack. All businesses are closed between 2 pm and 6 pm -- some until 10 pm. The American and the Canadian; what a joke we are.
If we're caught... will it still be a joke?
Women sell peanuts rolled up in paper cones, but I can't figure out a way to get them back to the boat.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
A more intriguing screwup
There are no border crossings on the water. So, you may ask, how does one get checked from one country to the next if one is traveling on a boatÉ
Good question, You!
Itès different in every country. But there is some form of first, as a crew member, getting formally as part of a crew of a boat, done by the captain. Then the captain, and sometimes you, too must go to an immigration station somewhere near an anchorage and check out of the country, then you have a certain time to leave the waters of the country. Of course it gets confusing. You are not allowed to land again. What if you check out and a storm comes upÉ You go to land; you are there illegally.
Anyway.
We are, apparently, to go to Martinique tomorrow.
Sailing flat and slow.
We are planning to anchor, but not go on land, so we can bypass immigration.
On to Dominica. We will arrrive Sunday. No immigration office open. Monday 5 am or so, I need to get to the airport.
How does one check OUT of a country at the airport, when one has never checked INTO the country.
Vern says *they re casual* in Dominica. But let s say they re not. Sorry for the weird punctuation; it s mostly gone to French characters.
That could mean I will be in the Dominica airport, but not actually be legally in the country. What if they won t let me out, if I m not really iné
In the meantime, J Friends is on the other side of the island, out of contact. They have floated away.
Will I have to stay forever in Dominica, until my money runs out. I will have to learn some native tricks.
Isn t this an intriguing screwup
Good question, You!
Itès different in every country. But there is some form of first, as a crew member, getting formally as part of a crew of a boat, done by the captain. Then the captain, and sometimes you, too must go to an immigration station somewhere near an anchorage and check out of the country, then you have a certain time to leave the waters of the country. Of course it gets confusing. You are not allowed to land again. What if you check out and a storm comes upÉ You go to land; you are there illegally.
Anyway.
We are, apparently, to go to Martinique tomorrow.
Sailing flat and slow.
We are planning to anchor, but not go on land, so we can bypass immigration.
On to Dominica. We will arrrive Sunday. No immigration office open. Monday 5 am or so, I need to get to the airport.
How does one check OUT of a country at the airport, when one has never checked INTO the country.
Vern says *they re casual* in Dominica. But let s say they re not. Sorry for the weird punctuation; it s mostly gone to French characters.
That could mean I will be in the Dominica airport, but not actually be legally in the country. What if they won t let me out, if I m not really iné
In the meantime, J Friends is on the other side of the island, out of contact. They have floated away.
Will I have to stay forever in Dominica, until my money runs out. I will have to learn some native tricks.
Isn t this an intriguing screwup
I get away from it all
I get Linda to drop me off on shore. I walk through a small town. The houses are patched wood and metal sheeting, painted a bit colorfully, as you would imagine. About 15 ft by 15 ft big. The people at least act friendly. They don't in general bug you to buy things. However, if you need something, they will try every trick to get more money. It's part of the game, and ok because you both know it. They don't have change. No, truly. Nothing. Well, then, you don't need the item. Now they have change. But only partial. No, truly. You walk away. Oh! They have just found change in their pocket.
It is their favorite game. We both get it.
I walk down the beach through two Sandals resorts. There are mostly Germans, some Americans. Lots of Canadians, I'm told. There are big expensive beach toys, plastic pods floating in the water. Horses to ride romantically down the beach. Many smiling servers of brightly colored drinks. I know Ièm allowed to walk through only because Ièm white.
Past them I get to a National Park. Cool. It is on an island that's no longer an island because they built a causeway. I pay $5 US to get in. There are trails with signs. There are old buildings and cannons. And a fort, way up high. I go to the Carib caves which really are nothing, then in my usual way, boulder myself straight up the side of the mountain to the fort. It is dangerousÉ Of course. Boulders slip down the mountain, crashing below. But this is how I do these things. ONce I get back to the trail, There are many, many signs showing drawings of British soldiers from the late 1700's early 1800s. It's all about commerce I think, but they make it sound more prosaic. Prosaic? I think that's the wrong word. Heroic? Inevitable. Noble. At least in one sign they make fun of the fact that the British soldiers continued to wear their British clothing. In the tropics. You know, Going Native was the worst one could do.
They have an impressive interpretive center.
For a few hours, I am out of the scope of Whats-Their-Names. They who shall not be named. I walk and walk and climb and climb. Ièm supposed to be able to see Martinique from the top of the mountain but itès raining in that direction, OOOps, IÈve lost my apostrophy, and have been given some French letter. Ièm not sure how to stop this.
I leave the park happier than I have been the whole time in the Caribbean. Despite the fort and the guns and the boys with their toys emphasis of the park.
I leave the park and see three people on the beach next to a dinghy. I chat. They are of all things, anchored two miles away, right next to Jolly F. So they bring me back.
They are normal! Why canèt I be crewing with themÉ
It is their favorite game. We both get it.
I walk down the beach through two Sandals resorts. There are mostly Germans, some Americans. Lots of Canadians, I'm told. There are big expensive beach toys, plastic pods floating in the water. Horses to ride romantically down the beach. Many smiling servers of brightly colored drinks. I know Ièm allowed to walk through only because Ièm white.
Past them I get to a National Park. Cool. It is on an island that's no longer an island because they built a causeway. I pay $5 US to get in. There are trails with signs. There are old buildings and cannons. And a fort, way up high. I go to the Carib caves which really are nothing, then in my usual way, boulder myself straight up the side of the mountain to the fort. It is dangerousÉ Of course. Boulders slip down the mountain, crashing below. But this is how I do these things. ONce I get back to the trail, There are many, many signs showing drawings of British soldiers from the late 1700's early 1800s. It's all about commerce I think, but they make it sound more prosaic. Prosaic? I think that's the wrong word. Heroic? Inevitable. Noble. At least in one sign they make fun of the fact that the British soldiers continued to wear their British clothing. In the tropics. You know, Going Native was the worst one could do.
They have an impressive interpretive center.
For a few hours, I am out of the scope of Whats-Their-Names. They who shall not be named. I walk and walk and climb and climb. Ièm supposed to be able to see Martinique from the top of the mountain but itès raining in that direction, OOOps, IÈve lost my apostrophy, and have been given some French letter. Ièm not sure how to stop this.
I leave the park happier than I have been the whole time in the Caribbean. Despite the fort and the guns and the boys with their toys emphasis of the park.
I leave the park and see three people on the beach next to a dinghy. I chat. They are of all things, anchored two miles away, right next to Jolly F. So they bring me back.
They are normal! Why canèt I be crewing with themÉ
Martinique?
Because we have been waiting for DAN the man to show up, our schedule is a mess. That, and Vern will not sail unless the wind is slow and steady. He shortens the sail, so that we cannot sail fast.
He doesnt' like to heel.
What? He doesn't like to heel?
Linda tells me this.
A sailboat is supposed to heel. That's part of what sailing is about. But it scares Vern. So.
We sail,
flat,
from one place to the next.
Now there's a glitch in my getting back. It took me 28 hours of travel to get from SF to the boat. It will take me about 40 to get back.
IF we get to Dominica, which is the island north of Martinique.
I will have to find someone on this little island who has a car and is willing to drive me an hour around the island to the little airport for a 7 am flight. I think the plane will carry about 20 people. I will fly to Barbados, which is south a few islands. Have a three hour layover. Fly back north to St. Lucia. The international airport is on the other side of the island. Must find a taxi to bring me. Must stay overnight in order to catch the flight the next day. Flight has a couple of stops with long long layovers.
BUt all this is not what the worry is about.
What if we get to Martinique and the weather is not perfect? Vern will not sail. I will have to get from Martinique to St. Lucia.
Am I boring you yet? I would be bored if it was not such a costly boredom.
He doesnt' like to heel.
What? He doesn't like to heel?
Linda tells me this.
A sailboat is supposed to heel. That's part of what sailing is about. But it scares Vern. So.
We sail,
flat,
from one place to the next.
Now there's a glitch in my getting back. It took me 28 hours of travel to get from SF to the boat. It will take me about 40 to get back.
IF we get to Dominica, which is the island north of Martinique.
I will have to find someone on this little island who has a car and is willing to drive me an hour around the island to the little airport for a 7 am flight. I think the plane will carry about 20 people. I will fly to Barbados, which is south a few islands. Have a three hour layover. Fly back north to St. Lucia. The international airport is on the other side of the island. Must find a taxi to bring me. Must stay overnight in order to catch the flight the next day. Flight has a couple of stops with long long layovers.
BUt all this is not what the worry is about.
What if we get to Martinique and the weather is not perfect? Vern will not sail. I will have to get from Martinique to St. Lucia.
Am I boring you yet? I would be bored if it was not such a costly boredom.
Grocery store
One of the funnest things about visiting another country is to go their grocery store. You learn so much. You can stroll and look, pick up foreign items, figure out what they are.
The grocery stores here could be lifted part and parcel from anywhere in the US. These are not stores in tourist areas. These are in small towns. Only locals are shopping there.
If something is not worth commenting about, is it worth commenting about?
The grocery stores here could be lifted part and parcel from anywhere in the US. These are not stores in tourist areas. These are in small towns. Only locals are shopping there.
If something is not worth commenting about, is it worth commenting about?
Bat Cave
We snorkel, Linda and I. We snorkel to the bat cave.
You can hear them squeaking.
The cave is about 25 feet deep. You have to swim in. Bat shit showers down on you. It looks like yellow leaves. There are hundreds of bats. They are not quiet and still. They move constantly, changing places. The walls of the cave are covered with crabs.
How cool is this?
You can hear them squeaking.
The cave is about 25 feet deep. You have to swim in. Bat shit showers down on you. It looks like yellow leaves. There are hundreds of bats. They are not quiet and still. They move constantly, changing places. The walls of the cave are covered with crabs.
How cool is this?
A room of one's own
Through the trip, hanging over everything, is DAN. DAN is the man. DAN is also coming to the boat. DAN keeps changing his mind. DAN is in the midst of a multi-billion dollar deal in Chile. Aftet the deal, DAN will come on the boat. DAN is a friend of Verns. DAN will get the cabin.
The cabin is small,but it has a door. I can get away. I will be banished into the midst of everything. YOu can't sleep outside here in the cockpit, the way I like to. It rains, in five minute segments, about 6 or 8 times a night. So I will have to sleep in the salon, on a bench that is too short, with no privacy or abiity to get out of the fray.
We finally get an email from DAN. He can't find flights to come last minute as he needs to.
I can only hope it stays this way.
The cabin is small,but it has a door. I can get away. I will be banished into the midst of everything. YOu can't sleep outside here in the cockpit, the way I like to. It rains, in five minute segments, about 6 or 8 times a night. So I will have to sleep in the salon, on a bench that is too short, with no privacy or abiity to get out of the fray.
We finally get an email from DAN. He can't find flights to come last minute as he needs to.
I can only hope it stays this way.
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