The Great Plotnik

Monday, February 23, 2009

The Boat is Torn Apart by High Winds, But Not



Sunday-22

A hammock in the galley is filled with fruit from the Rastaman Fruit Market. Pineapple, mango, cherimoya, passion fruit, guava, herbs.

Saturday night Sailor Duck and Sailor Plot awoke in their berth to the sound of their boat being broken into smithereens by a howling wind. "I'm not gonna worry about it until they worry about it," said Plot, right before Co Captain Finch slammed open the door to her berth. "Yawn," was all she said. "It's nothing. Don' t worry."

OK, it was nothing, but it was really loud, plus the boat was pitching in every direction while tacking around its anchor. But Plottie has at least one of his sea legs now and he's working on the other, so the motion didn't bother anybody -- it's easier to be lying down with your eyes closed. And when Plot went on deck at 6am, it all looked just as calm as the night before -- lots of boats, flying flags from around the world, with rowboats and motorboats slicing between them with merchants selling...stuff.

Were any of you wondering? Here's how a marine head works. It looks kind of like a regular toilet, except it's got this handle on the side and a couple of valves. What you do is first pump out all the water in the bowl. Second, do whatever ya gotta do. Third, pump all the, you know, out of the bowl. It it's pee it goes away easily. If it's not pee, it's a lot harder to pump out. Fourth, you then flip the valve and pump twenty times, to bring fresh water into the bowl. Fifth, you flip back the valve and pump it all out again, awaiting the next contestant.

If you do things just this way, the head never smells and everybody's happy.

But let's just say this: sometimes what goes into the bowl doesn't really want to go out of the bowl. And sometimes it goes out of the bowl and then gets sucked right back into the bowl. If this was a guy's-only blog, we could have some more laughs about it, but for The Great Plotnik's more sensitive readers, let us only say, Amen.

You shower in the same place that you, you know. The spigot on the sink pulls out. You stand on the floor next to the toilet. First you get the right temperature on the spigot, then you wet yourself down. Turn off the water, and then you soap yourself all over, then turn back on the water and wash it off. Simple and refreshing. Do this once and you realize it's a perfect shower and that we waste so much water in our daily lives that we ought to be embarrassed.

The ocean is salty, did you know that? Even jumping in for a few minutes can cake your skin and make you feel like the top of a barbecued pork chop. That fresh water shower really feels nice.

The four ol' pals have been eating a lot of really fresh fish. So far: dorado (the best), kingfish, barracuda (also delicious) and several un-named fried morsels. Plotnik has been working in the kitchen to prepare food, but he can't stay downstairs in the galley for too long, so he tends to bring his chopping board, cucumbers, garlic, mango, red onion, herbs, bananas and squashes upstairs onto the deck, where it's just too nice to imagine. He could crew in the kitchen of a large boat, if only they wouldn't make him go downstairs.



You're looking at lunch at the Port Hole on Bequia: fried barracuda, fried bananas, rice and slaw. The bad boy in the red bottle was very, very bad. (The restaurant was not called the Pork Hole, which was what Plotnik thought in the first place.)



This morning was a hike over the crest of Bequia and down to a new resort they're planning on the other side of the island. Hot day, cold ginger ale at the end of it. Back on the boat and we are amidst preparations because the Zim man and his wife are coming over in their dinghy for an Alliance Punch in five minutes. Their boat is right next door. We won't have to wonder when they left the house.

2-23 Monday



This is the Alliance, shot from our dinghy. High winds have canceled today's planned departure for the Tobago Keys. The problem is we're waiting for a delivery of fresh water for the boat, and won't be able to make the 2 1/2 hour reach without getting in too late to guarantee a protected berth. And apparently there is nothing blocking the African winds down there, so if you have to anchor in a bad place you can end up being buffeted and blown all night long. Nothing is worth that.

Plot mentioned he had one sea leg. Two would be better. He's not seasick, but he's not altogether un-queasy, especially when the engine is on to charge the batteries, like it is right now. This should be the last internet connection for awhile, until we get down to Carriacou, perhaps a few days from now.

3 Comments:

At 8:41 AM, Blogger mary ann said...

I love this (except the toilet part), keep writing!

 
At 9:01 AM, Blogger notthatlucas said...

The head aside, it sounds like you are having a great time. You are missing out on rain and all the Spring Training news (none really).

And what is in a very very bad red bottle? Maybe it would help get your second sea leg?

 
At 3:46 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I am so jealous - food looks terrific. Hans the VW is safely ensconced in front of Ray's. All is well on home front, except you're missing a ton of rain.

 

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