Goodbye Grenada

 

Wednesday 24^th November, Clarke's Court Marina, Grenada.

Well it's two weeks to the day since we got Gráinne back in the water and we still haven't left the dock. It all started so well. I recovered from my jet lag and have become a human being again. Then we got through the big job of moving everything that Karl had spent months moving from the boat into the apartment back onto the boat again. Then a slightly nervous morning watching Gráinne being trailered through the boatyard by a tractor and gently refloated. Then the engine started first go (Karl's particularly proud of that one, he didn't stop talking about it for hours). And then we pulled up to the dock for a couple of days to get everything stowed away and get the sails back on. And it felt soooooo good to be back home again! And we had a little celebration and patted ourselves on our backs. Big mistake.

Moving back aboard in the boatyard.

Last minute finishing touches to the antifoul before splashing.

Heading back onto the water.

Fun times moving back aboard.

The Universe noticed our success and decided to have a spot of fun with us. First Karl noticed a leak in the genset raw water pump (we need the generator to run the watermaker and as a backup in case the solar breaks, as things do). Then the fridge died. Then the furler seized (very important piece of equipment that rolls in and out the headsail, no furler no sailing). Then the anchor light died . Then we noticed some evidence that we had a stowaway of the small, furry, long-tailed variety. Eeeeek!!!

The leaky pump got taken off and given to the pump people who did some magic and returned it not leaking. Karl discovered a malfunctioning temperature probe in the fridge so swapped it for the other one and now the fridge works again but with a readout that claims it's at 80 degrees fahrenheit. Or maybe it means celsius. Then onto the anchor light which meant two trips up the mast for Karl - one to retrieve the broken light and confirm none of our spares would fit and the second to fit the new one we bought. Then the furler drum got taken off (a task which involved removing the forestay which is an important bit that holds up the mast) and given to the rigging people who did some magic and returned it not seized. Then we re-installed it, reconnected the forestay and the mast is still standing! Victory. And then onto the furry friends.

Karl fixing stuff.

Yes we did carry home all that shopping on that little scooter.

A warning to animal lovers. Maybe consider not reading the next paragraph.

Karl has become a hunter with a merciless glint in his eye. We went to the supermarket and bought the most evil-sounding poison they had. Karl sprinkled it generously in various dark nooks where there was “evidence” of the presence of a stowaway and we waited for death. Our furry friend very much liked to gobble the poison and after a couple of days Karl went hunting for a body. And found one! Yay. Victory. But then the next day there it was again, more “evidence” of the continuing presence of a furry friend. So two different types of poison this time, one of which again proved extremely popular. And then, while working on deck one day, Karl discovered a furry friend under the windlass cover. A live, fast moving furry friend who scurried along the deck while Karl gave chase before finally flicking him overboard with his baseball cap. Plop. But still the poison was being nibbled and still the the “evidence” kept reappearing. So Karl got serious. The battle was truly on now. Poison everywhere. Sticky “humane” traps. Traditional, less humane, traps. Sophisticated bait involving peanut butter wrapped in mesh (amazing the tips you can find on YouTube). And last night, for the first time since war was declared, nothing nibbled anything. So right now I'm hiding in the cockpit while Karl is hunting every nook and cranny below looking for deceased furry friends. That's what husbands are for.

Thursday 16^th December, Tyrell Bay, Carriacou.

We have finally escaped the gravitational pull of Grenada and made it up to Carriacou! Yay. Karl is very relieved.

Yay, sailing again.

We ended up spending about a month in Grenada after getting back in the water, mainly due to the ongoing battle with our furry friends. I was very reluctant not to have a dock to scramble onto while we had stowaways aboard so we stayed at the dock rather than moving to anchor. Karl “The Cat” O'Neill has dispensed with Mommy Furry, Daddy Furry and 11 junior Furries so far. As we speak he is trying to locate the remains of what he believes is the final Furry (heard that one before).

On a brighter note we did get to settle back into life in Grenada and developed a lovely routine of weekday morning swims/jogs at Grand Anse and Sunday afternoon beach days at Morne Rouge, we treated ourselves to Carib Sushi (twice!) and got to see the return of the cruise ships. It's weird to see the huge ships docked at St. George's and even stranger that the thousands of people aboard just seem to disappear off on their tours of the island and the town is just the same as always. The only hint of the passengers was when we arrived at the beach for our morning swim on a cruise ship day and the loungers and umbrellas were all set up. A totally different atmosphere, our lovely quiet beach readying itself for invasion.

Sunday beach afternoons.

Limin' at Nimrod's rum shop.

Watching rugby at the brewery. Have you spent too much time in an establishment when they give you your own TV?

Fishing boats at the Carenage in St. George's.

Sunday beach afternoons.

The locals understand the importance of bringing lots of food, a bbq and crates of beer to the beach on Sunday afternoons. Dare I say I think Grenadians do the beach even better than the Aussies.

The day finally arrived for us to leave the dock (Karl having declared us “almost certainly” stowaway-free) and Captain Karl made a stunning debut to the season by attempting to reverse out of the dock in forward gear. No really. He did.

And a few days later he tried to die. No really. He did. Those of you who were present for the honeymoon near death ambulance drama know what I'm talking about. Insect bite, “not feeling great”, turning bright red, threatening to faint, finding it hard to breathe, vomiting....all the good stuff. And an hour later up and about like nothing happened. Only this time it happened on the side of the road and consensus among the kind helper-outers was that we'd be better off calling a taxi than an ambulance. And the police officer just sort of stood there on his phone (we were outside a police station). In the end a wonderfully kind local offered to drive us to the hospital so he and a wonderfully kind English tourist I accosted at a hotel loaded Karl into the back of his car and Hero Robyn sped up the winding hilly roads like Lewis Hamilton (who incidentally is very popular here because of his Grenadian heritage). At the hospital, having declined the initial offer of a wheelchair and holding out for a trolley, we eventually got Karl wheeled in to the treatment room. And half an hour later all was good. Well, apart from the PTSD. So now we've taken to keeping the Epipen with us at all times instead of leaving it neatly stowed aboard Gráinne in case the Furries need it while we're gone.

Karl's alive!

Tuesday 21^st December, Tyrell Bay, Carriacou.

Well today has been an excellent Winter Solstice. We found chicken breasts and fresh brussels sprouts for Christmas dinner. We got our Pfizer boosters, yay, thank you very much Grenada Ministry of Health. We have checked out of Grenada and now all we need is a negative result on yesterday's PCR and we get to go to a brand new country tomorrow! It'll be a whopping 10 mile sail up to Union Island which is in St. Vincent and The Grenadines and that's hopefully where we'll spend Christmas.

Carriacou has been lovely. Just as quiet and chilled and rural as I remember. We revisited a few of our favourite haunts including Paradise Beach Club where the wonderful Allison immediately recognised us as Mr. & Mrs. Gráinne Mhaol.

Karl considers a change of career.

The day we didn't go to Petite Martinique. We arrived an hour late for this ferry, then sat on board for 45 minutes before giving up and going to lunch. As you can see they're still loading it.

Well Happy Christmas everyone. Hopefully there'll still be some celebrating going on amidst the Omicron nonsense. We'll be having an enormous roast dinner followed by mulled wine, mince pies and Christmas cake.