Caribbean Bareboat Vacation
By happenstance, today I am wearing a green aloha-patterned shirt purchased from a sailor while in the Caribbean (sic.)
One day, we moored behind Tobago Cays. Such lovely, uninhabited beaches. As we ate our evening meal, we were hailed by a man approaching in a small motorboat. He and his wife live in France for six months a year, he explained, and cruise for the other six months, selling their custom printed shirts. He came aboard and modelled his shirts for us. His trim, muscular body and convivial personality were persuasive sales tools. He had his 6-month-old child aboard his boat, and he described the safety netting, flotation signal, and other safety measures. I was young and impressionable; to me, his lifestyle seemed enviable.
I slept on deck, partly because I was wary of roaches, and partly because I had a crush on the captain, who also slept up top. Every night, there was a light rain that caused us to shelter inside for half an hour. We could see the Southern Cross. The air smelled sweet. I swam daily.
During the sail, i read "Desperate Voyage" again. This book was written by a fellow who found himself in a predicament after WW2. There were few boats headed for Australia, yet he yearned towards his fiancee, Mary. He decided to buy a sailboat, and learn to sail along the way. I actually met the man. He and Mary own Palm Island now (formerly, Prune Island) and run a resort. He signed my book.
The shirt is wearing out, I rarely wear it anymore, and never put it in the dryer. I love it dearly. It reminds me of that lovely time at sea.
One of my science writers was a woman named Moira with no fixed address. She was crewing on boats in warm locations; her blog entry talked about the hermit crabs she tried to coax into better accomodations; she ended it by saying, "I put a dab of nail polish on 'my' snails, so if you're ever in ___ look for them!" Since I am self-employed, and only need to work part-time with a computer with Internet access, I often wonder why I don't just head off into the wild blue.
But I don't. I do not know why!