St. George, Grenada, February 10th 2013 by Stijn : Logbook TRES HOMBRES

St. George, Grenada, February 10th 2013 by Stijn

by the Crew of Tres Hombres on 02/15/13



At port in Grenada I took up sleeping on top of the galley, the bosun beating me to the hammock. The boom and main staysail partially hid me from sight. But did little to dampen the Calypso band on the cruise ship next door. Or the deafening sound system of independence day celebrations across the harbor. Carib sounds in red, yellow and green. Couldn't bother me none. Each and every day being a hard day in paradise. Sweating it out cleaning the dry goods store below the galley, trekking through the jungle from crater lake to waterfall, tarring up some near the course yard, chatting with the locals, downing a Carib at nighttime. The end of each day I was done for. Nobody, nothing was to cheat to outta sleepin'.
And it so happened that about every night a refreshing speck of rain came to meet us. I'd wake up, welcome the speck and be off again. Nothing much. Not nearly enough to chase me back to my bunk below deck.

But just the other night the speck got to be more than a drop. A slight drizzle turned into steady rain. Hurriedly got my sleeping bag down below, did a round of the deck, closing hatches, clearing dry goodies that ought not get wet. In minutes I was bunked up below. A second later it stopped raining entirely…. Damn'. Too lazy tired to move on up again. That was not to happen to me no more. I'd wait it out next time!

Next night, after yet another sunny day, I installed myself on top of the galley again. And again, very early morning's, the first speck hit me, turning yet again quickly into drizzle, into downpour… A sheet of rain made the already hazy waterfront almost disappear. Heavy drops hittin' my face hard. I had to hole up in my sleeping bag. I'll stop, I knew. It'll stop soon, I hoped. Rain clattering on my bag, waiting, waiting. For the downpour to stop. For the first leakage. If you're gonna be stupid you gotta be tough. So I got soaked. Funny enough, when finally no more water came, I was drenched save for my briefs.
A hint of the first rays of sun behind the hills. It'll be light soon. T minus 24 hours before Grenada Chocolate to be hoisted aboard into our cargo hold. How an engineering dropout got to live in the jungle for a decade to revive dead or dwindling cocoa plantations, turning it into an organic chocolate cooperative. Awesome story. Fair trade for fair transport: a perfect match for the Tres Hombres!

T minus 48 hours for the stretch to Santo Domingo. Going to sea again. Raising sail, raising good hopes for yet another piece o' paradise. Grenada's prime minister to wave us off, kindly requesting us for an auf wiedersehen, for supporting Mott's accomplishments for Grenada with the Chocolate Company. The prime minister and the captain shaking hands on it an off we are! Us nearly as fast as the string of limousines heading back to the island's power pit. Byebye, 'till next year! Like Antigua Grenada has been good to us.

Comments (1)

1. Anja said on 2/23/13 - 01:53AM
Very nice to read your daily little aventures.


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