A Sail of Two Idiots (44 page)

But three days into my vacation from my vacation, I received word that a buyer was not only interested in
Jacumba
but was on a charter boat in Prickly Bay, Grenada ready to look at it. AACK!

There was no way I would ask Chuck and Jen to shorten their trip, so I decided to sail back by myself; they could take a ferry back to Grenada for their flight later. Sail by myself! I know—I get goose bumps just thinking about it again. I
wanted
to do it. I had already proven so much to myself during this trip. But to accomplish a sail by myself would be the icing on the cake.

We all got up early and Chuck came out to the boat with me. He helped hoist the mainsail (it would have taken me forever; it's heavy!) and raise the anchor, and then had a local bring him back to shore. I waved good-bye and off I went. Alone!

There wasn't much wind, so I had to motorsail, but I did have the excitement of several nasty squalls. The islands disappeared and my radar went black. Since I couldn't see a thing around me, I figured it was the perfect time to wash down the boat (it had to look good for the potential buyer). Friends still make fun of me for this. Even though I wasn't supposed to give a tour of
Jacumba
until the following day, I was worried that the buyer would catch me off guard, and I wanted the boat
to look its best. I set the autopilot and used the downpours and Simple Green to scrub the boat (watching for any surprises emerging from the monsoon). By the time the skies started clearing,
Jacumba
was looking great!

Eight hours later, I was outside Prickly Bay. Wahoo! I turned into the wind, dropped the mainsail (which is much easier going down than up), and motored into the anchorage. I was touched when two fellow boaters came out concerned, knowing that I wasn't supposed to be back so quickly—and that I had come back alone.

I yelled that all was okay, and they yelled back that they could help me anchor if I wanted. No! I wanted to finish it up by myself—and did. Yes! I feel another jig coming on.

Still high from my achievement and now settled in again, I was not the least bit surprised when my prospective buyers pulled up in their dinghy. Good thing I had cleaned (and you laughed at me!). The family of four didn't come on board; they just wanted to introduce themselves, but I was still glad I was ready. It turns out that a reef had sunk their relatively new boat near Antigua and they wanted another one just like it. Our boat was the same make but a little smaller (and older) than what they had lost, but they still wanted to take a look.

They really liked
Jacumba
and were a lot of fun, but they had one other boat to look at in Georgia (an exact replica of the one they lost). That was the boat they purchased, as it turned out. While sad about this, I was also slightly relieved. What if the boat
had
sold? We hadn't yet decided where we were going!

One place we knew we wouldn't be going was Mexico. Michael's job came to an abrupt end when, two months into it (it was now August), the developers ran out of money. So he was on his way back to Grenada (after three days of traveling) and would arrive just in time for carnival! Soca! Calypso! J'ouvert! Parades! Costumes! Fun! Talk about timing. Best to wean him back slowly into the boat work …

Before we get to that, though, let me be introspective about our time apart. As you can tell, I have a rather independent spirit. I always have to prove to myself that I can do things alone and don't need anyone to help. While I did, in fact, prove this to myself, I discovered something more important. I may not have
needed
anyone, but I might just
want
them. I wanted Michael to be there not only to help but to share the experience. I was also thrilled to have my chef back: homemade French fries, chips, rotis … Yep, welcome home, Mikey! Let the journey continue!

While we waited for hurricane season to end, we climbed waterfalls, hashed, and played dominoes.

One day I hailed Wendy on
Merengue
; we had become good friends while in the Dominican Republic. I switched channels to tell her about a moonlight hash, and while I was talking to her, I got a “break, break”—a polite way of someone cutting into a conversation they were eavesdropping on. Turns out that half the harbor had switched over once Wendy and I had. They all wanted to do the hash, too, and were hoping I'd arrange the transportation. I ended up coordinating buses for 26 people. What did we learn here?

Now that we were deep into the hurricane season, the harbor was crowded. We were tired of sitting in the same place. Calivigny Island, about 5 miles to the east, sounded good. And it was. The peace and quiet, the beautiful waters, the view of the ocean, and the space! We now had a long dinghy ride to anywhere and needed two buses to get to town, but it was worth it. We weren't completely alone, with five other catamarans anchored with us at Calivigny, but that was perfect. Remember LESSON 9, Sh** happens, so it's always nice to have someone nearby to help.

It was
really
nice having other yachties nearby one hash Saturday. We and friends from three of the five other catamarans took off for shore in the rain, realizing about halfway through the hash that this was no ordinary rainstorm. The longer we were away, the worse the winds got (up to 45 knots). Next came thunder and lightning. The hash from hell!

As we were getting soaked on the trail, we were becoming more and more concerned about our boats. One of the boaters who had stayed behind kept in touch
via phone and called saying that all our boats were holding. Remarkably, the two boats that had stayed behind were the only ones to drag.

We were putting some serious miles on
Spud.
If conditions were calm enough, we'd even dinghy all the way over to Prickly Bay, 2½ miles one way! This wasn't a problem for our friends with bigger dinghies and engines, but we were pushing our luck. And we were ignoring LESSON 46, Safety first—we never took any safety gear with us (flares or life jackets) just in case something did happen.

One day Michael dinghied all the way to Prickly to buy a few things. Conditions had been nice when he left but started to get nasty. I knew from pals in Prickly that Michael had left that bay to head back to
Jacumba
, but two hours later there was still no sign of him. I felt terrified and helpless. Michael had the only way off the boat, so I couldn't go out and look for him, and I didn't want to make an announcement over the VHF. Just before dark, our friends on
Fine Line
, whom we knew from our Bahamas days, had grown concerned, too. We were getting ready to go out and look for him when you-know-who motored up. Happy, and drunk.

The good news was that when he realized that the waves had increased and he couldn't make it all the way back from Prickly, he turned into another harbor and hung out drinking and playing dominoes with Hal (Shark!) on
Mane Bris
, the big steel boat. Once the waves lessened, he started out again.

The bad news was that he failed to notify his mate of his little detour. How would he have liked it had I pulled a stunt like that on him? Do unto others …

In September, I took my first trip back to the States since the house sold. Michael had fit in a trip with his family during his Mexico travels. To drive again! I had a great time visiting a friend in Atlanta, hanging with my mom in Virginia, meeting up with my uncle in Pennsylvania, staying with my cousin in New Jersey, and gallivanting around my old stomping grounds in New York City. Do I know how to make the most of two weeks or what?

I ate all the fruits I had missed (cantaloupe, grapes, blueberries, strawberries—yum) and walked around grocery stores like a refugee. I went on a serious search for shorts. I needed a few pairs that didn't have holes in them. I had an unabashed
love affair with all my mother's appliances: washer/dryer, dishwasher, toaster oven, refrigerator, and hair dryer. I loved them all and used them all. I got a decent haircut too.

If all that wasn't enough, I remembered that our guardian angels from Green Turtle, Bahamas—Robbie and Jamie on
Kawshek
—were likely docked in a marina right up the street from where my mom lived. I hadn't seen them in forever, and so much had changed (for instance, I now knew how to anchor and sail!). They were working in the States, so we had much to catch up on. What a great bonus to my trip.

Right before I left the States, a nor'easter swept in, dropping temperatures to brrrr and bringing the winds up to whoa! You have to seriously wonder if I bring this stuff with me. By the end of the trip, I was looking forward to getting back to warmth, and Michael was looking forward to having someone to share chores with. See how that works?

Upon my return, I was greeted by a cheerful Michael, some moldy clothes, and a water tank leak. One out of three isn't bad, huh?

One thing I learned during my escape was that I missed land. Not the States necessarily, just land. I missed appliances and windows that I didn't have to close every time it rained. I wanted a real closet. Yep, I was ready to get off the boat. Michael concurred that he felt the same way.

We still didn't know where we wanted to live. But we thought we'd have better luck selling
Jacumba
on St. Martin than on Grenada. St. Martin had more of an international boating community; it was easier to get to via plane for perspective buyers; the French tend to favor catamarans, so we wanted to get the boat to a French audience; and the island had baguettes and awesome grocery stores. We also knew the route back
really
well.

Time to start provisioning! We went back to Prickly Bay to get stocked up and hang out with our friends before heading north (ahead of everyone again since it was only October).

But before we left … one day we were in the midst of a happy hour on
Jacumba
's trampoline when we realized that we had never had a group sail. Wouldn't it be fun to go out for a quick day sail with a bunch of friends? Together … on one boat? Yes!

We grabbed anyone who wanted to come and headed out for a nice day sail. Most of our guests were seasoned sailors, but none had sailed on a catamaran before. We could not have had a more perfect day weather-wise, sailing-wise, or bonding-with-friends-wise. We even learned what that red yarn loop that had been on our genoa all that time was for (called a leech line, it helps trim the sail to stop luffing/flapping, especially on older, stretched-out sails like ours). Thanks, Hans!

That trip inspired Hans and Kristen to do a group sail on little
Whisper
, so eight of us squeezed onto their 27-foot boat one day and had another great sail before it was time for us to say good-bye.

We were determined to get to St. Martin before the Christmas winds kicked in, so once again we set off with two months to go before the end of hurricane season. Cross your fingers!

Where to begin …

The engines gave me a hard time over the summer. I replaced alternator belts, the alternator's voltage regulator, the starter solenoids, and various fuses. I helped disassemble and clean a starter and replaced a kill-switch cable. Pretty impressive, huh? Even if you don't know what any of that means, I have to get some credit for being able to say all this, know what it means, and do it. (Well, I didn't do it all myself. I got very familiar with one of the local marine fix-it places in the harbor and probably kept them in business all summer. You're welcome, Enza Marine!)