Banishing Yard Trolls and Bringing on Belly Laughs
Baby Steps
Baby steps! Link to the What about Bob? Sailing scene
Saturday afternoon, Joe, Adiona and I tucked into Corn Store Bay on the tiny, uninhabited island of Ronde, just north of Grenada, ever closer to Kick-Em-Jenny, the famous underwater volcano. The anchorage was blissfully calm. We gazed into azure and aquamarine blue right down to our anchor 15 feet below us, astonished to see such clear water again. Minutes after anchoring, we floated in the sparkling sea, inhaling the freedom of the seas and exhaling the last of the yard troll spell. The sun set, mojitos in hand, we pulled out the grill for the first time, working together to prepare fresh zucchini, potatoes, cauliflower from a local grower in Sauteurs, and burgers- a true feast. In this modern, connected world, we still had a WiFi signal so decided to have a movie night- a rare treat for us. As we sat watching this old(1991) Bill Murray and Richard Dreyfuss comedy, What About Bob?,(link at top) I am certain our laughter reverberated throughout the anchorage. We could relate all too well to the absurdity of the characters, the plot and the cheerful exuberance needed to become- well- a sailor- and a whole person. That night firmly closed the chapter on our transformation from Yard Trolls back to Sailors. Baby steps, baby steps, as hero Bob also coached himself.
What is a Yard Troll inquiring minds may want to know? Picture a Garden Gnome gone rogue. You kiss your family and friends good-bye, a bit sad and exhausted but exhilarated to be leaving the gray, cold winter behind. Customs and Immigration let you slip by with your three overstuffed suitcases and backpacks, despite your honesty in checking all the boxes declaring goods and food. Off you bump down the road to the marina, the warm silky air caressing your skin. As you pull up- first clue everything ahead may not be so blissful- one of us- who will remain nameless- realizes we never confirmed the reservation after we changed the date of our stay. Looks are exchanged and I seem to be elected to slide off to beg forgiveness, hoping we were not going to be looking for a room after getting up at 3 am. Allender, the office manager, shook her head gravely, saying, “You know there are only four rooms here? Mmm. I expected you two days ago. Mmm. Now..” After I replied that I was the one who was sent in to beg forgiveness, her stance and attitude changed. A conspiratorial smile spread across her face and she winked. “Just like a man. Sent a woman to do the dirty work.” Out she marched, high heels stepping daintily through the mud to check that the room was ready, throwing a scornful glance at the taxi driver and Joe- both- mmmhmm- men.
Good cheer restored, we toasted our good fortune. Not trolls yet. We jumped into our friend Brian’s dinghy and rode over to Le Phare Bleu marina where other sailing friends had gathered a crowd for dinner to welcome us back. More joy! Sailors together! We caught up with friends, their travels, their boat travails, this season’s plans and so on. Heartache upon leaving home and those loved ones grabs most people who travel- no matter how privileged and fortunate we know we are- so this hearty welcome was balm to our souls.
Next morning… The new bottom paint job- black not blue. Okay- we could live with the color change. Then- hmmm… the forward seeking sonar and depth sounder were also now painted black. Really? That rendered them useless and perhaps affixed permanently. Replacements? Forget about it. The parts are outdated. There might be one of the two available in London for around $1k, plus shipping, plus time waiting on the hard for it to arrive.
The topsides fared pretty well. They were dirty but nothing some scrubbing wouldn’t help. Wind and sun had whipped and worn the bright work and stainless. Hurricane Beryl hadn’t even shredded our tarps covering the deck. Upon closer inspection, all four blocks on the main sail system were seized. Well- there is a day. ✔️
Then, time to descend below deck and survey the systems.. White powdery mildew coated our beautiful teak- in the forward bunk, the cubbies in the main salon, the front of the fridge, the front of the sink, and on and on. All surfaces were thoroughly scrubbed- white vinegar and/or concrubrium- before we left. We used a dehumidifier but the humidity level remained quite high late in the summer and there was an unusual amount of rain right before our return after the dehumidifier was removed. Our guardianage company was gracious, meeting with us to give suggestions which seemed to boil down to: some older boats only do well with an air conditioner(prohibitively expensive here) and remove all belongings if you can(there was no storage for rent when we arrived in Grenada). The washed linens stored in compression bags did just fine but any place a bag touched the teak- mildew. The deep dive into the systems began..
By day two or three- when we anticipated putting the boat back together- our urgent to-do list exceeded the space on our white boards. Two thru hulls, drains for the black and gray water from the loo failed. That meant dismantling and removing the septic, always a popular job. 😉💩 Joe built a special tool to aid the removal. It broke. We called in help. They struggled, but prevailed. Better tools. 😎
The dinghy motor? Undiagnosable failure to thrive. Joe sent it off after spending half a day on it. The guys hired to stain the bright work? They melted away before finishing the job. We examined our hands and feet. They seemed to be growing fur and claws. Our brains and movements felt slower, our words clumsier with each other as we deliberated how best to solve all the issues that kept appearing faster than they were disappearing. Eyes narrowed, everything felt harder than the day before and significantly more costly. Yard troll transformation complete.
Thanks goodness for the presence of friends who whisked us away for dinner, a swim or shared a car for errands. We enjoyed a night of music and street food, joined a lively Friendsgiving celebration-meeting new friends and reconnecting with familiar faces from last season, took a taxi to a Taco Night at a local restaurant, shot some pool in a spirited contest of doubles, tromped up and down mud-covered hills in a Hash*(described as a running/walking race with a drinking problem. It involves chasing a “hare” who has laid down a trail of little white papers to follow with plenty of dead ends)* and so on. Eventually, the long to-do list dwindled, check marks beside each task and we splashed on December 5, 15 days after our arrival. We spent the first night without a working toilet but Joe once again figured out a head 😉 of the plastic elbow arriving from the US how to rebuild it.
Once in the water, we bent the sails back on, the new sun/rain covers arrived, the repaired depth sounder and forward seeking sonar worked, the dinghy motor purred to life, our new dinghy arrived, and our old dinghy found a new home in a matter of hours, once we chased down and repaired the leaks. Joe and I worked together to finish the bright work. Monica polished our old stainless into respectability while telling us a bit about her life, sailing around the Caribbean helping gather information for cruising guides. Finally, all was washed, stowed, scrubbed and we provisioned.
After several nights of trying to cope with a pungent odor from the air and water, reportedly by-products of rum distilling dumped into the waters surrounding Clarkes Court, we decided to slip the lines a day early. We scrubbed the decks last minute, trying to rid our topsides of a mysterious brown dirt that persisted despite our considerable efforts.
Away, far away from the dock. The wind and the sky out there. The wind and the sky. -Bob
That first night we sailed around to Grande Anse, to a mooring friends saved us. We rocked and rolled so intensely, Joe shopped on- line for (shhh) a catamaran while I attempted a watercolor painting as part of a family Twelve Days of Christmas watercolor challenge. The next night, we spent restful hours sharing a happy hour aboard our friends’ boat, a catamaran. We relaxed in the relative calm, feasting on a sumptuous spread of cheese and crackers, admiring their Christmas decorations. Another night back aboard our Adiona had Joe researching ideas for homemade flopper stoppers- and catamarans once again -while looking for a new anchorage.
( *A flopper stopper keeps a boat more upright, slowing the side to side rolling. We experienced 30 degree rolls, avocados, glasses and more just tumbling side to side on our counters. Not fun!)
We bade farewell and sailed north past the sculpture park(good day moorings and anchoring close by) to Sauteurs on the northernmost tip of Grenada. We planned to participate in the weekly Saturday afternoon Hash, meeting up with a young woman from Lithuania, who we’d met the week before. We anchored in a very tight space behind the break wall. Before we’d finished anchoring, local boys, Timoti, Jonathan and Jonatu raced out on a paddle board and climbed in our dinghy we’d towed on this short sail. Full of questions and a few demands: money for local juice? Fishing line? Snacks? I got their names, ages(11), hobbies(climbing on boats, playing in the water and eating). We sent them on their way after feeding them some cookies and chatting about life in the fishing village. We were tired from days of little sleep and decided to explore the town the next day. We listened to local karaoke staged around a bonfire on the beach and admired the view of the Christmas lights from the harbour.
Some time after midnight, the sea state changed and waves began crashing against the sea wall, sending a swell our way. We dragged some and woke up to a soggy, rainy day. Still determined to explore and participate in the hash, we repositioned the boat. Again, the boat dragged. We stopped by a nearby sailboat and met Marcus, a German sailor who lives Sauteurs. He likes it so much he built a house there. He explained he added a mooring as boats always drag on this hard-packed bottom.
If your friend is a good sailor and the craft is seaworthy, let’s go sailing. I have no other plans. -Bob
We rowed away with recommendations for a calmer anchorage, the local Westerhall rum, bread from the bakery near the church, praise for the grocery store and the community of approximately 1300. Sauteurs is named, according to Wikipedia after an event in 1750. The French arracked a group of Caribs on the hill, killing around 40 people. Some Caribs jumped to their death, rather be killed or captured by the French. The town name; Sauteurs, is French for "jumpers.” Yikes! The thought sent shivers up my spine as I peered down from the beautiful vista atop of the hill into the harbour. I did a quick walkabout as Joe stayed with our boat. I checked out the church and grounds, stopped to chat with the bakers, bought cucumbers and cauliflower from local vendors and ducked into the local grocery store for rum and frozen blueberries. We sailed away.. again.. to Corn Store Bay on Ronde Island. We also brought along a little local knowledge- give the island a wide berth to the east before riding in the formidable currents. We saw speeds up to 8 knots this way on our sail to Ronde and then to Carriacou yesterday.
We stayed an extra night on Ronde, loathe to move from the azure blue water, long blissful nights of sleep and privacy. We completed small projects, including trying out a homemade flopper stopper using stuff we had on board. We weren’t scientific about it, but I will say that Joe deployed it without telling me, came below and asked me if anything changed about how we were sitting. It had. Immediately. We were more steady in the water. Instead of shopping for catamarans, we discussed ideas for improving our new flopper-stopper.
Yesterday, we spent many magical hours watching thousands of tiny fish swim round and round our boat, camouflaging themselves in the shadows. As they were pursued, they would leap out of the water, hundreds at a time, showering the air and then the water with a rain of metallic tinsel.
Joe and I slipped into the water wearing only our masks and snorkels, floating amongst these vast schools of darting silver light. As we lay in the water for some minutes, the fish- prey and predators- began to ignore us. Small schools of jack hunted the tiny fish. They leapt over us, sometimes nailing us with their needle-like bodies. The larger fish regarded us, warily at first, but after a while just swam right under us as if we weren’t there. We stayed in for a very long time; our fingers and toes shriveled, our bodies thoroughly cooled. This is why we are here. Baby steps, baby steps. Out on a boat.
Adiona Adventures Season III begins.
I sail. I’m a sailor. Is it a breakthrough? That I’m a sailor. Out on a boat. On a lake. Far away from the dock. The wind and the sky and everything. -Bob ⛵️
Such a fun read! Glad you are back on the water where Adiona belongs and starting the fun part of your adventures now. Yard trolls, be gone!!
Sounds Excellent!
Cherish the challenges!
They brighten & Sharpen the pleasures!
Well done Mary! A fun read!
Have a Blessed 2025!