12:02.66N 061:44.85W Oboe In The Hands Of Strangers
OK, I apologise for the radio silence over the last 3
weeks. Only excuse is that things have been running at their peak and the
season is in full swing, with charters back to back. After the deep clean
and mid-season maintenance described in the last blog entry, I handed over the
good ship Oboe to some good friends for a couple of weeks and released Ryan
from his duties, allowing him to fly home to catch up with family and friends
and providing me with a quiet few days. So, there was I, stranded on
land, expecting a call any minute from Oboe with questions and concerns, but
the call never came. Instead, Oboe was retuned safe, sound, spotlessly
clean and with a number of things “mended” that I didn’t even
know needed seeing to! Alan, Jan and crew, thank you so much for taking
care of her while at the same time obviously having a wonderful sailing holiday. Relieved that all we had to do on taking Oboe back was fill
the fridge with goodies and sail north to Carriacou to meet our next guests
George and Shenac from Aberdeen, Ryan and I got a good night’s sleep, raised
the anchor early on the morning of 4 Feb. and slipped out of Prickly Bay, this
time turning to port and heading out into the Atlantic to sail the windward
side of Grenada. Everything was perfect, the bareboat charter was over
and Oboe was back under the direct command of her owner once again. Many
sayings however now spring to mind: “Pride before a fall”, “Don’t
count your chickens”, “how the mighty are fallen” ... “There’s a lot of water in the bilge skipper!”
and for the next few hours things got pretty messy. Suffice it to say
that when I decided to install a third electric bilge pump in case the other
two pumps failed I never expected to have to bring it into play! Yup –
two pumps failed to operate and the third simply could not cope alone with the
ingress of water until we realised it was the engine pumping the water into the
bilge! Now, with improved installation, should the main pumps be called
on again, they will be just fine. What happened then? A joint in
the water cooling system came loose and instead of funnelling sea water round
the engine and out into the sea it dumped it in the bilge! Heading back
to Prickly Bay with the aftermath of dirty bilge water taking the edge off Oboe’s
pristine interior (a typical British understatement!), with no engine
capability and with the grins wiped off our faces, we begged a tow into the
anchorage from a passing catamaran and sat with tail between legs, totally
deflated, to mix metaphors. A call to a friend on another boat in the Bay received an
immediate response. What can we say Nick, except thanks a million –
see you again soon at Tiki Bar for a few beers. All of us worked together
for the afternoon, fixed the problem and it was once again – Game On!
Slipping out of Prickly Bay at dusk for the second time that day, this time we
turned to starboard and set sail north along Grenada’s leeward shore
under a spectacular starlit sky to Carriacou, arriving in Hillsborough Bay at
0200 hours and collapsing into a deep sleep after an 18 hour shift! Apologies for our late arrival were soon accepted by the
gracious Scots waiting on the dock at 1000 hours the next morning and so began
four days of laughter and enjoyment and the camaraderie usually reserved for
good old friends but this time they were good new friends. George and
Shenac from Aberdeen, new to sailing, took to it like ducks to the proverbial
and we have had a wonderful few days together. Who would imagine that we would
find stories in common but then again it really is a small world isn’t
it? In the dim, distant past I visited a restaurant in Ballater, Royal
Deeside, Scotland with the family and indeed an extended gang of young people
intent on drinking a bit too much. Bruno, a larger than life Italian with
a Scottish accent delivered up possibly the best food in the world “family
style” as he put it, which meant large platters heaped to overflowing
plonked in the middle of the huge table and regularly replaced with new ones as
we struggled from antipasti through pasta, via the fish course, the meat course
and many other courses, of course! Bruno was a legend in Ballater about
whom many rumours circulated – Mafia, fingers in lots of pies, being a couple
of the milder ones! Well, George and Shenac knew Bruno and we were able
to share many of the rumours once again. Bruno “burned down his restaurant
for the insurance money” being one that we both agreed was probably true. We spent last evening in Chatham Bay and took the
opportunity of dining al fresco with Ballhead and Geoff once again.
Slipping out of our dinghy – now of course renamed Power Ranger by four
year old Silas – we tugged her unceremoniously up the sand and, in the
pitch dark, approached Ballhead’s restaurant, where we were greeted and
hugged like long lost friends – pretty strange but nonetheless enjoyable
given that we had only been there once before! We were treated like royalty,
which seemed to go down well with G & S, while Ryan was befriended by all
seeking to share his Old Holborn. Grilled tuna, garlic potatoes, peas and
rice and green salad (actually red) washed down by rum punch brought the night
to a mellow close and after a lot of back slapping bed became too difficult to
resist. There is no way to haul anchor quietly but despite this,
Ryan and I managed to get away from Chatham and set course for Grenada well
before G & S poked their heads out of their cabin the next morning.
Which only goes to show that they have settled into a life on the ocean waves
remarkably quickly and easily. A chilled out couple of Scots relaxed in
the cockpit over a leisurely breakfast and a pot of hot coffee and before we
all knew it the coastline of Grenada once again appeared to port, the wind died
in the lee of the island, all went quiet and we motored slowly into St. George’s
and the luxury of the new Port Louis marina. Farewell to you George and
Shenac and here’s to the next time. Jonty says toodle pip! Nigel |