Our re-entry into America was a bit abrupt. I really wasn't prepared to suddenly be back in the land of having to wear shoes for no apparent reason and needing to carry around some form of ID in order to buy alcohol. Our first port of call was a place called Red Hook which was having some kind of very cheesy Spring Break style party for cinqo de mayo when we arrived. There were chihuahua races, plastic sombreros and kids swinging a bat at a very sturdy pinata. The kids couldn't break it open so eventually one of the moms had to beat the poor creature to a pulp so the children could swarm the carcass searching for every last bit of candy. My mood was dark for a variety of reasons, some less clear than others. Our arrival had been marred by a dock crew with no experience who had us throw them some lines and then stood there holding them without actually securing them to anything which resulted in a poor docking and a small amount of damage to the boat. The reason we had asked them to be there to help us was because we were without reverse and therefore not as capable of docking as smoothly as we normally would. Normally we would never throw a line to a person on the dock because the general assumption is that they are clueless, but since we had specifically requested help and they were supposed to be a classy marina, we assumed they would send us
someone who knew what they were doing. As soon as I tossed them the line it was clear to me that it was the first time they had ever been near a boat while docking. The one guy stood there with the line in his hand watching while the boat continued forward towards the dock without securing it to anything or trying in any way to stop the forward motion of the boat while I helplessly tried to cushion our inevitable crash into the dock with fenders and yelled at him to secure the line to something because he was still just standing there. It was not a huge deal as we were not going fast at all, but it was the principal of the whole matter and we once again committed ourselves to never trusting dock crew again. That beginning shadowed the rest of the evening and our general impression of the place was not very positive. It did not improve when we tried to go get some ice and the lady in the marina office told us she was closed and would not sell us ice even tho she was sitting right there, the office was unlocked and the ice was in a cooler 5ft from where she was sitting. They stayed open long enough for us to pay them for the slip and then said they were closed without giving us the key to the bathrooms & showers or any other information. So we walked down the street and found a small grocery store but couldn't go in because there was a large sign plastered on the door saying: “No shirt, No shoes, No service.” Screw that. I'm not wearing shoes just to get some stupid ice. There was nothing around this place – just a few restaurants, a marine shop, a hardware store, and a small strip mall with a few 
little shops. Instead of being like an oasis in the desert - it was more like a deserted hellhole in the middle of paradise. It seemed there was nothing to improve our mood. We sat on the boat that night discussing how evil that place was and plotting horrible things we could do to them in revenge. No one wanted to stay another night in that pit. The reason for coming there had been to pick up our SAT phone which was being shipped there. Of course, it had not arrived either, because why should we expect anything to go well there. In the morning we tried to get a new perspective on things, starting with changing the ”ship to” address to another port in St Thomas so we wouldn't have to stick around. We checked the weather, did some shopping at the marine store, and stopped in the dive shop. Now I have to say – stopping in the dive shop was the best thing we could do. It was an excellent place with friendly knowledgeable staff and really excellent prices. My mood finally started to brighten. I hadn't planned on spending any more money on dive gear until we got back north, but Sam assured me I would not find a better price for a BCD, and I had been pondering getting one because it was the only piece of gear that we we were short on if the 3 of us wanted to dive together. I had only ever dove with Dan because I was using Sam's gear and it was too big anyway. We wandered off to do more errands and so I could check email and look at my bank account and see if any of the money people owed me had come back to me yet... I don't know who I was kidding. I knew I was going to buy it. Just playing my usual game of trying to get people to confirm that it's a smart way to spend my money. I don't know why I still do this. It never actually changes whether I buy something or not. I just keep 
asking people until I find someone who says what I want to hear. Anyway, we managed to get the boat off the dock successfully and without the help of their useless dock crew, then got everything else done that we needed to, went back to the dive shop and got the BCD and some weights and he threw in a really good mask at less than half price, so it felt like Christmas by the time we dinghied out out to the boat for our departure. Ruth had decided, after our brief stint in the BVI's that she really hadn't seen enough of the Caribbean in the short time since she had joined us and who knew when she might be back this way again. So she booked a ticket to fly out that evening back to St Martin to do a bunch of day trips there by ferry and then see if she could get on some boats going to other destinations. We were sad to have her leaving us but she would be up in the area of the Vineyard and New York in the next month or so anyway so it was only to be a short goodbye. We sailed around St Thomas and arrived in the southern port at Yacht Haven Grande – supposedly owned by the same people as Red Hook, but soooooo different. We dropped Ruth ashore for her taxi to the airport and ran into Dan's friend on Volare. He had been their diving instructor as well. We all went to Hooter's for dinner. I had never actually been to a Hooter's before despite their prevalence throughout America. I would say that my favorite thing about Hooter's was the little zip line they used to send their orders into the kitchen. The staff was friendly, the food pretty average.
The next day we left Domi in town and Dan, Sam and I sailed out to a pile of rocks south and west of town and did our first diving expedition all together. It was pretty cool as it was my first dive where no one was acting the teacher and we had no special skills to learn, we were just all going exploring together in this intriguing new medium. Plus I got to use my new gear which could be adjusted to fit me properly. We moored the boat and went down together and started swimming about. It wasn't anything spectacular as far as dive sights go although we did see a puffer fish and I followed him around for a while trying to see if he would puff up. I had found a cheap reusable underwater camera so we were attempting to take photos as well. It was basically just the three of us goofing off underwater but it was fun to be one of the gang and not the student. I mean they are both WAY more skilled than me – but we weren't doing anything that required any great skill. And they both trusted me to handle myself well enough. I remember just a few weeks ago I was thinking this was something I was doing to conquer a fear but I really didn't think I would ever actually LIKE it. I just didn't want to be afraid of it. But it is so amazingly peaceful down there. There is something so RIGHT about being down there calmly swimming about among the fishes. So often people are up on the surface of the water doing whatever variety of water related activities and yet their knowledge is limited to the surface. There is no comprehension that there is a whole other world going on right in front of their noses. It's like an alternate universe that exists on the other side of a wall of one way mirror. The only way to see into that world is to actually stick your head right through the glass. Once you've gone that far, the door is wide open. And I'm quite keen on opening doors.
After our dive we were starving and snacked away then promptly fell asleep all over the boat. It was so tranquil with the waves gently rocking the boat, softly crashing on the rocks of our small island, the sound of the birds swooping about softly calling out their lonely cries and the sun gently warming us in it's embrace. I think a part of us all knew that this was our last experience of the Caribbean and we would soon be back in the world and we didn't want the day to end. We dozed the afternoon away until the sun was starting it's path to the horizon, then finally, reluctantly said goodbye to our little paradise and headed back to town.
We stayed in St Thomas one more day after that, doing small repairs, deflating and stowing the dinghy and making a final provisioning expedition. We were prepping for our ocean crossing north and made sure we were full up on fuel, water and the batteries were fully charged. Our SAT phone arrived and all was in readiness. Finally it was time to push off.
We sailed around the south end of St Thomas, then turned northwest at a heading of 340° heading straight for the Chesapeake, 1300 miles ahead through open ocean some 15,000 feet deep. Adventure ho!
No comments:
Post a Comment