Monthly Archives: September 2013

It was like something out of a Hummer rally. I was afraid to try to sit down in the filthy bed of the truck that had stopped to offer us a ride, but I really needed to lower my center of gravity and the thorn trees sweeping the cab roof were tearing at my white knuckles while I tried to duck behind the protection of the cab without losing my death grip on the roof. Poor Marce had tried to squat down but was becoming a physics experiment bouncing around the truck bed unable to hang on well enough due to her still painful forearm. I was afraid to turn around to see what our friend Mark was doing to survive. The driver was barely creeping along the washed out trail driving at a slow walking pace but it was still bone-jarring rough, oftentimes launching us off the truck bed.

It all started innocently enough when Mark said he’d found a shortcut to the large Ace Hardware in St. Georges, less than a half hour walk from Clarkes Court Bay. Using a network of trails rising up out of Bob’s marina we walked past the owner-described “proper home” of a local artist who paints reproductions of his favorite priceless classics, you know, the Mona Lisa, Girl with the Pearl Earring, etc. The house has Prospect painted in bold script above the all-glass front wall. I guess that’s so you can see his priceless collection of paintings on the back wall.

Things were going well until the guys in the construction truck offered us a ride. When they stopped to let us out we all popped out of there like we’d just gotten zapped with electricity.

We made it to Ace without major injury and wandered around with wobbly legs and that life-affirming feeling you get when you’ve dodged another one, and with the added bonus of truly arctic air conditioning. We aimlessly sampled several stores without conviction to buy much because the trek back to Clarkes Court Bay was hanging over us.

We could quickly see why the truck lurched about so violently. It was even hard to walk with washed-out sections filled with broken concrete blocks or lumps of leftover concrete or debris. Like everywhere in Grenada the entrepreneurial spirit moves them. Even on this horrible “road” we found fledgling businesses.

We probably shouldn’t have undertaken the expedition in the heat of a Grenadian summer afternoon. Completely shattered we finally shuffled down out of the hills into Bob’s marina, to dinghy back home to Escape Velocity. We slept well that night.

Some of the most popular events during the Grenada Carnival are the music competitions in three genres, calypso, groovy and soca. This year’s winner in the calypso category is a woman, which apparently is a rarity. For some reason, no one recorded the winning performances, so a nearby marina hosted Ketura George and her band for a musical evening during which they would record her signature songs.

I was sick during carnival and missed pretty much everything so we weren’t going to miss this. The venue was the same bay where we had the dinghy concert, around the point to Le Phare Bleu, a place that’s a favorite of ours because they have super comfy chairs. Kay was fantastic and she was backed by a full band with horn section.

Fire in the sky.

I’d been warned by the PO (previous owner) to periodically check the four bolts at the gooseneck where the furling boom joins the mast as they tend to loosen and can cause serious problems. I’ve been checking those four bolts faithfully for well over a year. Nice and tight, no problems, so with a confident relaxed attitude we pushed back the leather sleeve that protects the universal joint that connects the boom furling mandrel to the mast and were surprised to see a couple of bolts lying in the bottom of the boom. No, that’s not right, we saw all the bolts that were supposed to be attaching the mandrel to the mast lying bent and scattered about the boom cavity.

This whole inspection process started because Marce found a tiny bolt lying on the side deck. I recognized the bolt as the type used to secure the batten end caps to the sail. Sure enough, upon further inspection we saw that one of EV’s battens was trying to de-camp.

If one goes looking for trouble on a boat, you’ll soon find it, and once again I’m glad we did, thanks in no small part to our friend Mark.

It was worse than we thought. The universal was bent and broken, with bolts sheared off and pins missing. How it was still working I’ll never know. I knew we wouldn’t be sailing any time soon because this is a specialized part and the manufacturer, while very helpful, informed us that there are no dealers in Grenada.

This tale, Dear Escapees, is tied up in our paucity of Internet and phone connections here in Clarkes Court Bay. After relying on the understanding of Grenada’s shipping agents with seriously poor results we thought we’d try a different tack. We’ll use a shipping consolidator person, let’s call her Sherri, who sources parts for yachts in transit and takes care of all the fees. It took a month and some cash but we got our beautiful new universal, although, “it may need some infield fitting” really doesn’t describe the $500EC worth of drilling, sawing and tapping necessary to fit the universal to our older model Leisure Furl boom furler.

We’d designed a fix for our overly stressed aluminium mandrel which would reinforce the bolt holes. The rigging shop liked the plan and, like all good plans, it featured a reasonable cost estimate as well. We pulled the sixteen foot long mandrel out of the boom, loaded it into Catnip.

Truth be told, we had more sticking out than in but we’ve done this kind if thing before so we headed out for the rigging shop two bays over. I’m afraid we’re giving Mark a bad reputation in the anchorage with our antics. There were a lot of smiles when cruisers saw us. I told Mark I thought we shouldn’t get up on plane but after a few minutes I just had to make some time, but no worries. After reaching Secret Harbor a truck from our rigging shop pulled up at the dock. That’s a break. If I play my cards right we’ll bum a ride. No worries mate, we’ll have you there in a jiffy.

So now we’re on the far side of Prickly Bay with a very long hike just to get back to Secret Harbor when a couple I knew walked in. Sure they’d dinghy us over to the other side of the bay. Ah…that’s better and Prickly Bay has a Tiki Bar in case one of us is in need of restorative fluids. We trudged the well worn trail over the ridge through the fence and down into Secret Harbor for a quick run out of Mt Hartman Bay around the corner, taking care to avoid the reefs to the right and left of us watching the bottom go flashing by just under Catnip, through Hog Island anchorage, under the foot bridge into Clarkes Court Bay where another left turn found Escape Velocity lying quietly to her anchor, sail flaked and wrapped up on her side deck and no furling gear.

Marce decided to email our man at Forespar just to confirm that our plan B passed muster, but after the email was sent our wifi disappeared and we didn’t receive an answer. Marce frantically kept at it and about 4:00am our wifi kicked in and we finally had a reply, in all caps, no less. Under no circumstances should we do this! So it was back to original installation specs but we had to get to the shop before they did something irreversible to our beautiful new universal.

Six am, launch Catnip, I rev the Yamaha with a purpose, up on plane running down Clarkes Court Bay on a beautiful morning, turn right at Hog Island under the foot bridge weaving through the anchorage picking up the flag marking the edge of the reef, right at Mt. Hartman Bay, tie up at Secret Harbor. It’s about at this time I realize that I’ve never actually walked all the way around to that corner of Prickly Bay. Mark and I bummed a ride yesterday so Marce quickly pulls up a map on her iPhone and we start the long climb up the ridge toward Prickly Bay. No rides today I’m afraid. We stop several people to ask how to get to the rigging shop but no one seems to know how to get anywhere on this island. We finally find our way through washed out dirt roads over the last ridge and from the top of it we can see Spice Island Marine.

The rigging shop is open by the time we arrive. I can see that they’ve started but haven’t gotten very far. Close call. I outline Plan A and while they’re not happy they’ll do it and it will be done this afternoon!

No sense going all the way back to EV. We run into friends at De Big Fish next door and they say they’ll take us over to the Tiki Bar across the bay where we can get breakfast and wifi.

After replenishment, still more friends ran us back over to the rigging shop but we’re on island time now so it’s back to de Big Fish to wait.

Finally word came down that soon it would be ready for us to take.

This is where we needed another of those minor miracles but I decided that the timing wasn’t right as the owner’s wife was pouting more and more the longer it took. They’re French, you see, so I decided the best strategy would be to just expect a ride for my wife, me, and our sixteen foot mandrel back to Secret Harbor where I fortuitously ran into them in the first place.

Voila! It seems all the guys in the shop wanted to escape with us so they each grabbed the mandrel and we all piled into the tiny van with the mandrel sticking out the front door.

At Secret Harbor they were all amused when they saw that we were putting it in a dinghy but it seems they had somewhere else to go and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

We carefully reversed the track laid down early that morning, waving to bemused friends. One even asked if that was us running past at dawn because I’m not known for dawn dinghy rides.

Our friend Mark was waiting for our arrival on Escape Velocity just to help. Maybe that’s what this story is really about. Yes, I like that. Friendship.