Dateline: Carriacou, Grenada, at anchor next to some pissy Germans. (Guest post courtesy of Seth J. Lapidow, Esq.)
First of all, we are not too close. Charlie knows what he is doing and just because we are in a charter vessel does not mean we are idiots. But that is not the point of this post.
When Charlie asked me and my son, Daniel, if we would like to spend a week cruising around the West Indies while he writes a story for SAIL about the lovely and accommodating folks at Horzion Yacht Charters in fabulous True Blue Bay in Grenada, how could I possibly say no?
I have been cruising with Mr. Doane before and I have learned two things: (1) he is a fine skipper (though a bit of a power Nazi) ; and (2) he cannot be trusted to provision so much as a brief jaunt to the mall, let alone seven days at sea.
So with the understanding that I would take charge of the comestibles and adult beverages we set off. And now here we are, anchored off a nice little island, drinking a bit and listening to Charlie play a very tiny Martin guitar, getting ready to decamp for dinner ashore. The sad part is that we just spent an hour diving on a reef, or should I say, the corpse of a reef. It’s very sad to see the coral and sea fans trying to make a go of it against all odds. They are not succeeding. I don’t know why. Pretty depressing.
The boat part is great. We are on a floating condo (a Lagoon 380—editor’s note) that did pretty well to windward in what to me seemed like a fairly stiff chop and swell on the way over here from Grenada. Charlie, performance snob that he is, seemed pleased that we charged along at 6 or 7 knots at a 30 degree apparent wind angle for a few hours to get here. We are busy disregarding most of the advice we received at a much too long chart briefing about where to go, what to buy, and where to eat. I am sure that the local customs guys will be sad that we decided not to spend most of the week filling out their paperwork.