Tommy and Grandad
Tommy taking to the water with his waterwings and blue ‘noodle’ float.
Angel fish through the glass in the bottom called ‘Sugar Lips’.
Signalling pennants raised in honour of the birth of Charlie Nobbs.
The Coco Reef Hotel from Resolute in Store Bay.
Liz lounging at the Coco Reef with Tommy napping.
Dear Faithful Blog-Reader, please forgive us for such a long exeat from writing. Bad fortune and good fortune have rendered us incommunicado for the last few months (not to mention poor internet connections). Now, needless to say, all on Resolute is back once more on an even keel giving us the opportunity to fill you in with our escapades.
The bad fortune is boring in the extreme: Gilly’s back problem laid her low in Grenada for some weeks – thankfully weeks when no-one was expected and we didn’t have to rush elsewhere. Feeling very sore when on two legs she took to the cockpit seats buffered with cushions or her bed feeling burdened by vulnerability and a fear that this might be a problem needing more expert help than Grenada seemed to be able to supply (as had been the case with her former disc herniation in France). Trying to lose some weight whilst being rendered fairly inactive is difficult….feeling sorry for oneself and gaining it is however, easy peasy! When offered 10 sessions with a physiotherapist spirits sank even further. To be honest, as a fellow health professional myself ,my faith in the hearty, no-pain-no-gain attitude of most physiotherapists encountered over many years in nursing did nothing for my hope of finding an instant cure or for my morale, not to mention the back. However, the Doctor’s referral and the Medical insurance’s offer to pay ensured that saying no thankyou was not an option. Anyway, a level of desperation was setting in.
Armed with a phone number from the Doctor I had seen (I could write several paragraphs about him alone : giant office filled with a huge desk festooned with antiquesque blotters and gaudy ink stands; gold rings on most fingers and similar bling around his neck; a dead ringer for Mr. T from the A Team). Any positive impressions of physiotherapists I had tried to muster before I phoned the lady Dr. T had recommended, were almost immediately dashed when we failed to communicate with each other. Answering her phone with a brief “Yes?” gave me no clue if I was talking to the lady herself or a receptionist, so I stumbled on asking if I could have an appointment….”Now?” was her reply. I agreed but asked her where exactly in St. George’s (Grenada’s capital) she was? “De Carenage” she said in some sort of thick non-Grenadian accent and put the phone down. Great! This did not bode well. The Carenage encompasses the whole of the dockside area of St. George’s.
Limping (the pain mostly radiated down my left leg) up to the Yacht Club car park, I asked a taxi driver if he knew of a medical practice encompassing a physiotherapist on The Carenage. After a thoughtful minute his smile broadened – just like a taxi-man who had found himself a certain fare. Yes, he assured me…in fact there were two possibilities. With that I was whisked off. Thankfully, Possibility One came up trumps. The top floor of the plush ‘Spice Isle Imaging Centre’ housed the little (torture) chamber of Elizabeth Alverez Morales. In her early twenties and clad in tight jeans and an even tighter top she introduced herself and sat me down. It was obvious from her accent and convoluted English that she was not from hereabouts. Cuba, she explained, was where hailed from. Having taken a brief history, viewed my X rays which I had been given on a disc, and (of couse) lectured me about being over-weight she invited me to her couch and asked me to take my clothes off. There I was pummelled, electrically pulsated, ultra-sounded, massaged, exercised (or should that be exorcised) and dismissed. Phew! I had come out of the first session in one piece…only 9 more to go! I opted to walk back to the Yacht Club as it was in fact no distance at all. At that stage of my treatment however the walk along the dockside, up the hill and down the other side and past the cricket ground was quite an ordeal.she
However, I am happy to report that despite my scepticism, under the ministrations of the Goddess Elizabeth I was soon able to trudge along that hot pavement, both to and from my appointments with an increasing spring in my step. We moved out of the Yacht Club mooring after that first session as a protracted three week stay there whilst I had my treatment would have proved expensive. Anyway we were champing at the bit for some splendid isolation in the cool of the vast anchorage just outside St George’s. The dinghy ride to the Yacht Club dock was not always a welcome trip in the rain and wind but on the whole it was manageable and thus our days revolved around the thrice weekly sessions. The nearby chandlery gave Colin the wherewithal to do plenty of odd jobs too.
What can I say about Elizabeth? Over the weeks we became quite close in a mother/daughter sort of way. In her broken English she told me how she had taken a brave step to leave Cuba two years previously, where her Mother and sister missed her terribly – her father having died of cancer a few years previously. She had not been able to go back, fearing, as had been the experience of some of her relatives also living abroad, that she might not be allowed back in. Grenada it seems recruits many health professionals from Cuba, but Elizabeth was not happy there. Caught between missing her native country and family yet having her eyes opened further each day to a freer but much more chaotic society left her disillusioned and confused. Having come away she would never be the same again. Nonetheless, she was striving to improve her English, find more patients, improve her skills and bolster her career. Her descriptions of her homeland, family and life-style contrasted with her amazement when she arrived in Grenada that she could live virtually any way she liked and anywhere without any state involvement, were fascinating. In turn she asked me about England and our health service and way of life there. Thus, at the end of our 10 sessions we were sorry to part. She had worked wonders on my back and despite all my misgivings I felt much better. For that I was and am eternally grateful to this beautiful young, determined, confused, misplaced Cuban.
We treated ourselves to a few days stay at the posh Port Louis marina. Here we luxuriated in the small swimming pool, good restaurants, laundry facilities and even a bakery. After a few cross words by Skipper in the marina office about the poor internet access on Resolute an individual old-school router was found for us, enabling us for once to Skype friends and family from the comfort of our own boat and not from some dodgy beach bar somewhere……especially welcome as this coincided with my Dad’s birthday.
It was more than time to move on. However, the weather for sailing south-east to Tobago, our next port of call where we were to meet son Simon, wife Liz and three year old grandson Tommy -was dire. Tropical wave after tropical wave with hardly a gap between, bought windy, rainy conditions with the added attraction of large Atlantic swells. Impatient to make some progress, as the south-east direction we needed was now impossible as was going north, the only other way to improve the angle, adding 100nm miles to the journey but we gritted our teeth and left for either Trinidad or Tobago.
Having no fixed abode and no fixed destination coupled with the imminent arrival of Tommy and his entourage does not make for relaxed sailing. Put whatever home you have at 45 degrees and throw in rain and saltwater spray and morale also takes a dive – and this is before you factor in Gilly-Mate’s newly repaired back. Skipper decided that what was required was a morale bosting cup of tea (nothing stronger or illegal being permitted even with Valium on board). However, even this was to be denied the long suffering crew as the freshwater pump and the manual back-up chose this moment to fail. Every cloud has a silver lining. This particular silver lining was that the only chance of a new freshwater pump being bought and fitted before our exalted guest and his parents arrived was in Trinidad. Thus our decision was made for us and we changed course slightly heading due south from our position. With the wind on the beam and the sails eased the boat obligingly became something of an upright abode again and we sped toward our new destination with only fresh water (both rain and the little in the emergency tank) to worry about.
We arrived in Chaguaramas once again. Although it is not the sort of place one could have very fond memories of, we enjoyed being in familiar territory once again. Immigration and Customs are renowned for being over-zealous in Trinidad and Tobago, so we took a deep breath before we headed to their adjacent offices to clear in. Being tired from the overnight sail it is even more difficult to keep ones cool. Half an hour later though, it was all completed and done with no rancour. Had all the Officials been to Charm School we wondered? Secure in the knowledge we were legal once more, we headed to a nearby mooring buoy in the massive busy harbour to gather ourselves and catch up on some sleep.
Listening intently to the weather over the next few days we tried to find ourselves a weather window to head along the north coast of Trinidad, before crossing over to Tobago. This coast, being exposed to the Atlantic can windy and swelly and is a substantial (for a windward passage anyway) 40 miles long. It’s saving grace were the several anchorages along the way one could overnight in….which you may remember we had done last time we followed this route. Eventually the forecast was promising us 15-20 knot winds instead of the 20-25 we had become accustomed to recently, with 7 foot swell….this was still not ideal conditions to head along that coast to windward but we were running out of time so made a dash for it. Conditions were not too bad but with the winds right on our bow we had to motor to keep going in the straight line along the coast we needed to follow. Unfortunately though, what we had remembered from last year as sheltered anchorages turned out to be very rolly with the swell finding its way in and making its presence definitely felt – making the possibility of sleep almost nil at times. Nonetheless we trogged on. On the third day we were very nearly at the anchorage on the most northerly tip, Grand Riviere, when we saw what looked like a floating tractor tyre in the water alongside us…..the tyre then lifted its head which was the size of a human head, out of the water, gulped a breath and disappeared beneath the waves again. We had never seen leatherback turtles before….their proportions so vastly bigger than their little Green Sea and Hawksbill cousins who we are very used to spotting throughout the Caribbean. Gosh these were big boys ….or should I say girls…..as we recalled when seeing this one following us into the Bay, that it was here in Grand Riviere Bay, that the leatherbacks came to lay their eggs on the beaches every June and July. That evening, despite the discomfort of our rolling boat we were over-awed by the sight of all these colossal ladies lining up in the waters surrounding us to do their bit for the next generation.
And talking of the next generation, whilst we were there we received news on the Sat. C that our third grandson had decided to make an early appearance. Throughout the day and night of 8th July we were ‘conversing’ through Sailmail with Chris as he updated us on Tanvi’s progress. Eventually, after a very protracted labour little Charlie Nobbs was born at 01.10 a.m. Such wonderful news.
At last, from this final Bay along the Trinidadian coast we could spy the lights on Tobago. We were finally getting nearer to our destination. We set our sights firmly on our goal and headed across Galleon’s Passage trying to dodge the strong currents to end up as far up the west coast as possible. That day it poured. Thick sheets of rain pounded down as we motored the last few miles determined to get to the northern-most bay of Charlotteville to begin our sailing with Tommy, Simon and Liz….thereby ensuring that all our sails with them would be more comfortable downwind trips. Bedraggled Resolute eventually dropped her anchor in the deep waters of Charlotteville Bay. The Bay itself is magnificent – surrounded by high, lush forested slopes. What excited us most though was that it was not rolly! We were able to catch up on our sleep and luxuriate in the knowledge we had made it to where our Beloved Guests were due to arrive a few days hence.
Being in Charlotteville meant we were at the furthest point of Tobago from the airport. To ensure the sailing was all downwind we realised this would mean a long car journey to the airport to collect them all, but conversely, we would be able to finish their 3-week holiday right next to the airport in the south of the island in Store Bay. Transport needed to be found then. The tourist Office in Charlotteville obliged by organising a taxi to take Gilly-Mate (as there was only room for one to go) to the airport. On the appointed day she was waiting outside the Tourist Office eagerly anticipating the hour and a half trip to meet the Beloveds. Along the road came this souped-up bright pink, boogie-blasting car and stopped just in front of her. Out got a young Rastafarian chap with dreadlocks to his waist. He politely said hello and enquired if I was going to the airport. ‘Yes,’ I said ‘but I am waiting for a taxi’. ‘I am your taxi, lady’ he replied. ‘Oh!…er.. fine’ I managed as I got into this pink metallic vehicle. Once on the road I was properly introduced to Andy who drove deftly along the beautiful winding coast road and thankfully turned his music down so we could actually chat. He told of his life on Tobago as a driver for the government, ferrying officials around as well as the maintenance crews who ensured the upkeep of the numerous town community centres. This, he explained was important as these centres were emergency muster stations in case of hurricanes. As a passionate Manchester United fan he seemed disappointed that I knew so little about British football, but at least I was able to promise him that Simon would be able to answer all his football questions and more besides on the return trip.
How sweet it was to see three year old Tommy wheeling his little case out of the airport doors followed by his tired parents. Tommy was extremely excited by Pink Car. All vehicles are exciting of course but one so bold a colour was doubly so. Andy looked a little perplexed by the amount of luggage our visitors had with them and when he opened the boot we understood why…..about a good third of the available boot space was taken up with a massive speaker! Undeterred though, we crammed it all in and set off back to Charlotteville, the passengers being wowed by their first glimpses of Tobago and Andy being wowed by a long conversation with an actual football-loving Brit about ‘de game’.
Tommy loved Resolute almost as much as he loved Dinghy. The next three weeks were spent blissfully capturing Tommy’s increasing confidence in and on the water; his fascination with the boat and his gradually growing trust of Grandad and Nana Boat. By week three he was going off in Dinghy with Grandad for an early morning swim on the beach at Store Bay; swimming with Daddy and Grandad in his life jacket off the back of the boat and charming the locals wherever he went.
Tommy on the beach at Charlotteville.
Out for the count!
Tommy with Mummy
Having a nap with Mummy and daddy in the forepeak.
With Daddy and Grandad in the dinghy
A serious Tommy.
Charlotteville, being a slightly shabby, warm and friendly, unpretentious fishing village set the scene perfectly for the start of the holiday. A fishing boat approached us one day asking if we would like a tuna. Unfortunately the ones on offer were massive so, with no room in our little freezer, we were forced to decline. However, as he was leaving us the fisherman, called Dash, asked if anyone wanted to join him on his next tuna fishing trip the following morning. Simon and Skipper eagerly agreed and the next morning , bright and early,(we were learning to do bright and early, as Tommy usually woke at about 5.30), Dash came to collect them….leaving us …..Liz and I, to comfort a very miffed three year old who wanted to go too. They set off in Dash’s little wooden open pirogue with its bamboo poles like wings out on either side. Back the hunter-gatherers came several hours later resplendent with a beautiful tuna. Dash was reluctant to be paid for their adventure, but was eventually persuaded to take something for the tuna itself. We feasted on that tuna greedily that evening. I am sure, it tasted all the better to the boys, because to find it they had encountered steep waves and tempestuous seas! There followed several more days dinghying ashore and exploring little Charlotteville as well as some snorkelling (for the big boys at least). Our plan to start our Tobagan tour in Charlotteville paid dividends. When at last we said a said farewell and left the Bay out into the Atlantic we were able to put the waves behind us, put out a little headsail and glide south. Our next stop was Englishman’s Bay with its vast swathe of unspoilt beach beckoning us ashore. This was a beach to be reckoned with: the grand rolling Atlantic foaming waves and its steeply shelving bottom made it a challenge both to land the dinghy and then to swim. At this stage Tommy was very cautious in the water at this stage and the crashing waves frightened him a little but he nonetheless ventured forth providing a parent was closely at hand.
Of course the rolly waves on the beach were also felt to some lesser extent on Resolute so we decided to move on again….this time to one of our favourite haunts (where we spent last Christmas in fact), Great Courland Bay, Plymouth. The beach here is again a magnificent crescent of golden sand, dotted with hotels and villas but also the domain of serious seine fishing with teams of fishermen hauling their nets onto the beach in the early mornings. We were the only yacht in the bay…our neighbours being the pelican -festooned fishing pirogues with their bamboo rods akimbo. Every one of course to Tommy was christened Dash! The town itself is larger than Charlotteville but it is still difficult to believe this diminutive one street town was once the capital of the island. Again it is a functional place but here we were able to stock up with essentials, especially beautiful fruit and vegetables sold in Tobago in little roadside huts – mangoes (which were literally growing on trees everywhere), pineapples, passion fruit and paw-paws. Avocados too were coming into season and deliciously plentiful. A play park with swings, climbing frames and slides delighted Tommy here along with the ruins of the old Fort James. When our exploring days were wearing thin we decided it was time for a little luxury and (as we had done the previous year) afforded ourselves a day pass for the Turtle Reef Hotel. We took full advantage of the facilities – the massive pool with bar stools in the water; the free drinks and wifi and the delicious meals. They even provided us with a room in which to shower and get dressed for dinner no less. Very impressive indeed.
We took the opportunity whilst there to book a hire car for the following day and took to the road to explore Tobago, get some diesel for Resolute and to visit the posh ‘gourmet’ supermarket too. Alas, we chose the wrong day – torrential rain made it impossible to enjoy the rainforest and waterfalls…and the supposedly picturesque reservoir and dam was shut. However, we found an animal petting park which we all enjoyed – stroking and feeding rabbits, tortoises (which Tommy called Torty after the one tortoise he knows at my parents in Selsey) and guinea pigs. Then in cages in the garden we were able to feed parrots and monkeys and spy boa constrictors in dark corners. Michael, the owner and our guide made it all very interesting. At least we had found somewhere to visit on our rainy excursion. Our journey around the island was made very frustrating as there are very few signs. Many of the small roads were not shown on the tourist map, the towns and villages did not have name signs either. Thus the driver and navigator’s patience were really tried that day, so after the excitements of the Gourmet shop (Nutella, Ryvita, Korma paste, Rose’s lime cordial….to name but a few) we were somewhat relieved to return to the hotel beach where we found Dinghy waiting for us. At least Simon and Liz had been given a flavour of the island in its entirety even if it had been viewed through a mist of heavy rain.
Leaving Plymouth and heading a little further south we found another beautiful bay –Mount Irvine Bay – with a great public beach with small public picnic chalets, and very importantly (for the boys at least), a bar. Sun loungers were available too which pleased us ladies – although regular sand-castle duties meant there was always a degree of getting down and personal with the sand. Tommy became even more confident in the water here – we were now passing him between us in the water and he seemed totally at home with the waves. The next day we made use of the individual barbeque chalets – semi-circular little huts with a table and bench seats. There was also a large fish co-operative market on the roadside where all three boys went to explore and came back with some delicious dorade ( a large meaty white fish – a bit like bass).
Now we set sail again, heading as south as one can in Tobago – keeping well clear of the enormous shallows of Buccoo reef which as always was criss-crossed by numerous glass bottomed tourist boats. Yes, we had arrived in the Tourist Central area of Tobago. The bottom tip of the island is flatter and not terribly picturesque but the waters are picture-postcard, clear, azure blue. Store Bay is large and sheltered with several good public beach areas, one of which, nearest the mooring buoys helpfully laid by goodness-knows-who last year, serves as a dinghy landing spot….there being no specific dinghy dock. We, including Tommy, were now very adept at beach landings though so this did not bother us, but what was slightly more concerning was the demise of our outboard motor, with little hope on Tobago of getting it fixed. Rowing back and forth became de rigeur, but thankfully we had found the nearest buoy to the beach available minimising the effort required each time.
This was to be our last port of call with Simon, Liz and Tommy and we were determined to make the best of all this touristy area had to offer. For Tommy the main attraction was the close proximity of the airport. His new obsession since his trans-Atlantic flight over was planes. He held on to his little toy orange plane everywhere he went – making runways of every available flat surface and making us all repeat over and over again that “Tommy had been in a big red plane with Mummy and Daddy to-Bago hadn’t he?” So it was here with the big red Virgin planes coming into land a stones- throw away that we were able to reveal to Tommy that he was going on Big Red Plane again! We almost wished we hadn’t, as there and then the countdown began. Tommy’s stock question changed to “Tommy’s going on the Big Red Plane with Mummy and Daddy to London isn’t he?”. Yes, we replied somewhat mournfully.
We decided to join the masses and take a trip to Buccoo reef on a glass-bottomed boat. On the busy beach there were many chaps touting for trade selling tickets for their boat trips. We decided on Mr. Maurice whose boat was delightfully called ‘Sugar Lips’. Wading out to the stern steps through the surf we all clambered aboard for the 2p.m. departure which in Caribbean Time meant it actually left about 2.45! The coral and the exotic tropical fish we saw through the glass sections were exquisite. For Simon and Colin, quite experienced snorkelers, it was an opportunity to share with Liz and I the delights of what they had seen and become excited about. It was all a bit too much for Tommy when Daddy and Grandad donned their swimming shorts and actually went snorkelling off the back of ‘Sugar Lips’. Yes, he had his own little snorkelling set but had not yet mastered it. And this was serious ‘grown-up’ snorkelling we tried to explain but to no avail. Tired, determined three year old had a melt-down tantrum (the only one of the holiday) which resulted in him falling into an exhausted sleep for the rest of the trip.
The imposing Coco Reef Hotel is directly overlooks the Store Bay anchorage. Liz and I ventured down the palm-lined drive into the colonnaded, beach -ronted lobby to the reception, asking if Day Passes were available. Yes. They said….just come along for breakfast, lunch and dinner any day..Perfect. Oh yes, Liz and I thought as we left, we could definitely do this! The next day, bright and early in time for breakfast, we all arrived for a taste of four star treatment. Great food; free booze and swimming both in the pool and the beach area lagoon – cordoned off for hotel use which was patrolled endlessly by the barman. Tommy by now was very confident in the water and was ‘kick swimming’ between us all with just his water wings. His new-found skill meant that he wanted to be in the water (with orange plane of course – which never left his grip) virtually all the time. All too soon, after a delicious supper in one of the restaurants, it was time to leave our sumptuous environs for our much more humble but Resolute abode……but not before the small band struck up in the lobby area where Liz, Tommy and Nana were waiting for our ‘dinghy-boys’ to take us back. Tommy could not resist a dance – as though his day had not been energetic enough! With many other hotel guests sipping their drinks and listening to the excellent harmonies clustered around, suddenly Tommy Nobbs was the star turn! And so ended another lovely day in Tobago.
All too soon the Big Red Plane took them all away. Tommy could not contain his excitement at the prospect of flying again but we were all morose and crestfallen that the holiday was over and that it was time to say adieu. At least we had in prospect our trip back to Blighty only 2 weeks away,for over two lovely months….but to have some of our Darlings with us for three whole weeks had seemed such a wonderful and rare privilege.
I write this, incongruously, looking out over the sky-scrapered, super-highwayed vista that is Miami! Our first flight yesterday – from Trinidad – was delayed, thus forcing us to have a night here We are rather overwhelmed.……just so many people, so much space, so much rush and hurry….so…..un-Caribbean….but brilliant internet and a bit of pause time. After the Darlings left us bereft in Tobago we sailed back to Trinidad. What should have been a nice drift with the wind behind us, turned out to be a slow gonk with very little wind at all. After checking in and a restorative weekend at the atmospheric bay at Chacachacare it was ready to face the prospect of lifting the boat – sails off, tendering for work to be done, cleaning and washing, lots of odd jobs. Then the lift itself, de-barnacling the hull and patching the copper-coat, climbing the steep ladder for every call of nature… such is life aboard the land-bound boat close alongside hundreds of others in a huge static ghetto.….all very tedious and exhausting in over 30 degrees C with 90% humidity. Still, we did it of course and here we are en route home where our first port of call will be to meet little Charlie Nobbs. Blessings abound.
Tommy donning his life jacket
Tommy swimming on the back of the boat with Grandad and Daddy
resolute-en-voyage 