Jean and Josieanne have been gone now for several weeks, and Alain departed just the other day. Bernard returns home to France soon. The crowd at Lagoonie's has changed faces about 3 times now, I think. It is time for me to be moving on, but I cannot. Instead, I will have to stay until I know that the tax issue in Pittsburgh is on its way to resolution. Here, I have decent and fairly reliable internet and a cell phone rented, so can communicate with the attorney and financial people. Progress is slow, and has halted while the lawyer's assistant deals with his own father's death. Paul and Joyce are in the San Blas finally, and I receive SSB emails from them daily, as there is no internet there at all. Joyce is very happy, it seems, with the beauty of the place, and MAYBE Paul is too, but he seems to wish that Lady H were the only boat around, and complained that there are over a hundred at one anchorage. Seems some other folks have discovered the San Blas secret. Google Earth has some beautiful pictures of some of the anchorages, and I envy them, but will have my time there, someday. After exchanging a few emails on the subject with Paul, I have had to accept that there is no way this year that I will make it. It has always been my only real destination - the San Blas Islands. Now I will meet them in Roatan, an island off the coast of Honduras, instead, and then on to Guatemala. It is a bit of a let down, but I must face reality and stay here to deal with the troubles at home. If I left today, I have another 1300-1400 miles to go to get there and it would take me several weeks, even without stopping, leaving little time to enjoy them. I have made my reservations and placed a deposit to hold my place up the Rio Dulce, Guatemala, at Mario's Marina, for hurricane season. See http://www.mariosmarina.com/ for their website.
I had an interesting email from a friend back in Pittsburgh who was raised in Rosslyn Farms and who reads this blog when he has time. He, among some other good friends, offered condolences of a sort regarding my troubles back home. But he made an interesting request. Thought it might be interesting, in a consistant format, to write a small biography about some of the people I meet along the way. Is a good challenge I think, and will try to come up with something along those lines.
My steering repair took the back seat for a few weeks, and now, with this weather, it is very difficult to work, and so it stays in the back seat. (In fact, it has been boring as all you-know-what for the last few days. I have read 3 paperbacks and slowly tire of my 100's of hours of music. Thinking about setting up the keyboard again, to relieve the monotony.) The boat is rolling very badly, and has been for days, putting a strain on the anchor and rode, the snubber, and my nerves. And still the taxi boats and muscle boats fly by, adding to the chop and roll with their big wakes, and catch me unawares and I bang into something, or get caught off balance. Tools roll into the bilge, and small brass parts follow, making it safer, for now, to leave things as they are in the stern, and procrastinate about the repairs some more.
Bernard hosted one last feast, to honor Alain before his departure, and mine, as well, whenever that comes. Unfortunately, heavy rains threatened to cancel it, but Bernard and Alain had extra tarps set up over the picnic table. They did the BBQ cooking early in the morning when the weather was dry, so we just had to show up. Our hair and clothes got wet as we came and went, but we were dry while eating. Unfortunately, I did not have my camera settings adjusted, so the pictures came with no flash and are not the best quality.
When I arrived, it was pretty wet and Bernard and I had our rain gear on.
Peggy wears a towel after drying off her hair.
Peggy wears a towel after drying off her hair.Valerie and Peggy begin dishing up the first remove, which is my gazpacho. This time, I made it with poirotte (leeks) but I cannot say it was as good as before, even though I made it with lots of extra vegetables..
Bernard insisted that I take a picture of it. He says that I must make it for him when I visit him in France in May.
Valerie waves Hi to the camera.
Alain is always smiling. What a nice guy and great new friend. Will be an interesting time with him in Caderousse in May, since he has little English, but still more than my French!
And Paul, as well - always a smile and joking around.
The Heineken Regatta was held the same week as the feast, over a course of 4 or 5 days. There are about 300 boats that come here to race, and lots and lots more who come to watch, and enjoy the parties. Unfortunately, rains dampened the nightly celebrations when it came to this side of the island. I hosted Alain and Bernard here, on Annah Foster, the day before the feast, so that we could watch the boats arrive, and cross the finish line. We had a very nice day, with a swim for Alain and me, and good drinks and some cheeses, and canned pate ( the cat food from previous post), and baguette. I am not such an accomplished host and so, with my mind on keeping drinks and plates full, I failed to take even one photo. After I returned the guys to Norvalo, my American friend, Bob pulled up alongside and dropped anchor. He and his buddy came over for another couple drinks and then we all went into Marigot for the festivities, joined by friend Angie, who had crewed on a boat for this race. It was too much for me, and I came back early. The rain started just after I arrived back on AF, and it blew and rained hard all night long. The bay was packed with boats who follow the race from finish line to finish line- probably over 200 at anchor- (the finish line moves to each major town over 4 days - Simpson Bay, Phillipsburg, Marigot Bay, and then ends at Simpson Bay again.) - and boats were dragging anchor and rodes were breaking all night long. I had very little sleep, and ended up on deck for much of the night, on anchor watch. At 430, I was jarred awake, to find that an old hulk - probably 25 or 30 feet and probably abandoned, had torn loose from its mooring, drifted across the bay, and had bumped into me. No damage, but was my first experience with that. (The next day, I found it with binoculars beached across the bay, and today, I rode over and took this picture. Her back was broken on the rocks and she slowly breaks apart and dies.)
Bernard insisted that I take a picture of it. He says that I must make it for him when I visit him in France in May.Valerie waves Hi to the camera.Alain is always smiling. What a nice guy and great new friend. Will be an interesting time with him in Caderousse in May, since he has little English, but still more than my French!
And Paul, as well - always a smile and joking around.The Heineken Regatta was held the same week as the feast, over a course of 4 or 5 days. There are about 300 boats that come here to race, and lots and lots more who come to watch, and enjoy the parties. Unfortunately, rains dampened the nightly celebrations when it came to this side of the island. I hosted Alain and Bernard here, on Annah Foster, the day before the feast, so that we could watch the boats arrive, and cross the finish line. We had a very nice day, with a swim for Alain and me, and good drinks and some cheeses, and canned pate ( the cat food from previous post), and baguette. I am not such an accomplished host and so, with my mind on keeping drinks and plates full, I failed to take even one photo. After I returned the guys to Norvalo, my American friend, Bob pulled up alongside and dropped anchor. He and his buddy came over for another couple drinks and then we all went into Marigot for the festivities, joined by friend Angie, who had crewed on a boat for this race. It was too much for me, and I came back early. The rain started just after I arrived back on AF, and it blew and rained hard all night long. The bay was packed with boats who follow the race from finish line to finish line- probably over 200 at anchor- (the finish line moves to each major town over 4 days - Simpson Bay, Phillipsburg, Marigot Bay, and then ends at Simpson Bay again.) - and boats were dragging anchor and rodes were breaking all night long. I had very little sleep, and ended up on deck for much of the night, on anchor watch. At 430, I was jarred awake, to find that an old hulk - probably 25 or 30 feet and probably abandoned, had torn loose from its mooring, drifted across the bay, and had bumped into me. No damage, but was my first experience with that. (The next day, I found it with binoculars beached across the bay, and today, I rode over and took this picture. Her back was broken on the rocks and she slowly breaks apart and dies.)
I spent the rest of the night with the VHF on, listening to the folks issuing warnings about drifting boats and boats dragging anchor. In the end, I am sure that I too dragged, about 20 or 30 feet. It was a hard night, and I stayed aboard the next day, napping in the terrible roll and surges, and again that night, was awakened by more calls of drifting boats. My snubber finally chafed through and broke under the strain, but I had another already rigged so the windlass never took any of the load. The snubber has been on since my arrival here, December 23rd, so is fair that it finally gave out, and I cannot be sure that the hulk did not just strike my anchor line, putting even more strain on it. My friend Bob had moved inside the Lagoon during the day, and told me later that he dragged about 200 ft so raised his ROCNA anchor and moved to a mooring ball he knew would be free. It seemed that it was 2 or 3 nights of semi-terror in the winds and waves. It continues, even today, and I am hesitant to depart AF for more than a few hours at a time. The bay is gusty and quite choppy, and, although I only see about 18 knots gusts, the water surface makes it seem to be more. The wind or seas drop off but then return, sometimes twice a day, and I do not understand all of the systems that must be affecting us here.
Last Tuesday during a bit of calm, we celebrated on Claire's new boat as she had finally received the paperwork and keys, but during the party, I had a call from friend Sam, who is currently enjoying a life of leisure since she lost her job. We had been trying to get together for several days but I was reluctant to leave the boat during the bad weather, and put her off several times. So, I left the boat party to join her for live salsa music at LaBomba, which is a club right on the beach in Simpson Bay. She wanted to dance, but salsa and tango and cha cha are dances that I really really look silly trying to do (my cha cha ends up being some kind of a country 2 step instead). She should have danced alone, or asked someone else to dance. We had a pretty calm night, and for a change, I did not get home at 530 or 6 the next morning. After LaBomba, we visited her friend's new house up in Pelican Bay, and ended our night together killing a sixpack while sitting on the dock where I had tied my tender. We talked some more til the wee hours. I remembered for a change, to snap a couple pics before we got too seriously involved.
This schooner came in and anchored next to me for a couple of days, so for my buddy Mike the Gaffdriver, back home, here is a pic.
Some things happened this past week that have, when knitted together, become thought provoking and inspirational for me. First, I had an email from my niece asking me to call when I could. She was upset about something that she wanted to talk about. Of course, it bothered me then, until we could speak, and when internet was decent, I made a Skype call. Seems that she had heard from my first wife (divorced almost 25 years ago), who related that she has cancer. Denise was not sure if I would want to know about it, and did not know whether to tell me. I calmed her fears and told her that she could tell me anything, and that I would deal with it. I am sorry for Karen and my heart goes out to her, Joe, and Andrew. The pain and memories of those times are behind me now. She is a very good person, and was a wonderful wife, and certainly does not deserve this affliction. Per Denise, her prognosis is good, and I wish her better health and pray for her to enjoy many more happy years. But hearing the news was a reminder to me that at anytime, I could receive the same kind of news, or worse. My life is a gift from God, and could end at any moment.My step-sister, Nancy, brought several books to give me when she and John came to Baltimore to say goodbye. I ran across one the other day, and read it that afternoon - The Last Lecture - by a CMU professor who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and who wanted to leave a lasting legacy for his young children, who were all under 5 years. The premise for his lecture and book was his child hood memories and dreams. It was uplifting to read, and I read in his words - so much more eloquent than I could ever be - some of my new philosophy. I have decided, or rather, chosen, to take inspiration from it, and stop feeling guilt about the troubles at home; guilt which has strangled me and bound me emotionally and which is preventing me from enjoying my life and returning to the joys I had every day here. The troubles at home are going to be resolved and there is little I can do after providing the lawyer the basics until he works it out. For that matter, my life could be snuffed before it is resolved.
With these things in mind, I have done some soul searching: Some of my earliest memories are Sundays at Memaw and Pop-Pop Cole's house on Beechwood Ave. in Carnegie. All the Cole families that were in Pittsburgh would assemble there to eat after returning home from church and changing clothes. The house would be filled with the Doaks, the Sam Cole family, the Howard Cole family, and sometimes Uncle Joe's Ridgway Coles, as well. Lots of kids running around, and moms working in the kitchen while the dads would sit and perhaps sip a beer and talk or watch a game on TV, after maybe tossing a ball around in the front street with the kids. Dad would always make some pennies disappear and then reappear under an ashtray or vase across the room. A common dish served, which I despised then but love now, was stuffed green peppers, filled with rice and beef and topped off with some tomato sauce. Of many memories of play there with my cousins, 2 stand out. The first - when I was really, really small, I would crawl under the grand piano in the living room, which had been a player piano at the beginning of its life. When I was really small, I would sit there and look up, but as I grew, I would lie on my back, looking up at the valves and pipes that had been part of the workings of the piano roll player. Something about those parts intrigued and mesmerized me. I would reach up and touch them, try to open or close a valve, and feel along the wire-wrapped hoses and tubes that had carried the air from the bellows.
The second memory is of climbing on the huge old porch swing in the front room with my cousins. Standing up while hanging onto the chains that suspended it, swinging and tipping, we played pirates on our 'ship' as it tossed and bounced in the stormy seas.
That is what I choose to think about today, as AF bounces and rolls and while I mark time for things to resolve back home- playing pirates on Memaw's swing, only today, it is almost real.
It is time to return to positive thoughts of my good fortune; to count my many blessings, enjoy my great friends and this wonderful new life. I will let this storm pass, in its own time, and kill some time playing pirate again. As Andy said to Red in The Shawshank Redemption, "It comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living, or get busy dying."
Life is good, again.
My birthday celebration had an impromptu beginning, when, after midnight Thursday night, I mentioned to my Aussie mate, Graham, that I had just turned 57. He went ballistic that I had not told him it was my birthday, and we proceeded to shut down Topper's, where we watch and dance to and sing along with the karaoke each Thursday night. Then we drove up to the Red Piano, in friend Ellison's car where we stayed until it closed, dragging ourselves home about 430am. I finally remembered to snap a pic of Graham, although it does not show his incredible smile and bright, shiny eyes. I have said that after his departure, there will be a big BOOM! here in St. Martin, as the vacuum that is left behind is re-filled with rushing air. He is loved everywhere he goes, always getting or giving a peck on the cheek to the ladies, young and old. He has become such a wonderful friend, and I am so happy that I met him. We will stay in touch for years, I hope.
This is my mate, Ellison, with whom I have had such fun. We had a wonderful, relaxing Sunday together a few weeks ago, when I used my dink as a tugboat, to push him into a dock to re-fill his water tanks and back out again, and he then came to AF to look at my hydraulic troubles, offering the last piece of the puzzle in that repair. He is a mechanic for a charter company, and has crossed the Atlantic several times, once solo. He also served in the US Army, in Iraq, but is not an American. He has a very unique outlook on life. An incredible friend, and also another with a constant smile, cheery greeting with hearty hugs, and positive outlook. Davina originally introduced him to me. Truth is, he hid from my camera so this pic doesn't show his incredible smile.
Ellison had his camera along that night and snapped a lot of pictures and I hope to borrow his memory card to load some more into my computer to post later. Graham's mate, Dave, and owner of his boat, Hennis, joined us at the Red Piano for champagne and dancing. This sweet little German girl, Jackie, also came along and was part of the celebration, dancing with each of us but giving me more than a few birthday kisses. The picture does not do her justice.
A soiree had been planned since the previous week by Paul and Peggy, here on the French side for my birthday. Claire picked up Bernard and me and we drove up into the hills to their apartment. We were joined by Valerie, a lady whom I met at Peggy's Christmas dinner. Valerie bought me 2 cigars that are hand made here in St Martin. So the birthday 'boy' mugs for the camera. Happy 57th!
Our evening started with an aperitif on the porch. Paul had once again made me his special rum punch, which I love. 
Snapped this just before Claire could get a smile on all the way. Bernard and I shared her as our 'date' for the evening.
Bernard could not resist a chance to mug for the camera with my cigars.
We learned after a bit, that the electricity had been off at Paul and Peggy's apartment for much of the day. So Paul had slaved away without light or a fan in the hot kitchen preparing this feast for me. Such a good friend.
And hostess - beautful Peggy. She brought out some pictures of their wedding, and believe me, she was knock-out beautiful! And today is beautiful and gracious, and full of charm, and I love to watch her speak as her face is so animated. She is from Belgium. She also showed us pictures of their gorgeous daughter and grandchildren who live there now.
After 1st course of Paul's home made mussel and poirotte soup, we enjoyed this shrimp and rice. Bernard was absolutely amazed that I had never heard of poirotte. He found it incredible, but you know me - no culture or breeding! Turns out that it is almost the 'potatoe' in France, used in many different ways and dishes, but a staple at most meals. When we returned home at the end of the evening, Claire looked it up in a French/English dictionary, and a poirotte is a leek. Shelby, my friend from W. Va. would know what wild leeks are as there is a festival for them near his hometown. But these are not the wild, hot ones.
Our main course. Beautiful presentation and delicious.
Bon Apetit!
Paul told me that he had prepared a surprise desert for me. After the obligatory baguette and cheeses (Phew! Some of them really stink but are so delicious!) sauteed banana in sugar glaze and served in this suggestive, phallic presentation with 2 scoops of vanilla ice cream, with a ginger root sauce. Got a lot of laughs, of course, and was delicious.
Into the jungle we all went to gather fallen wood, coconuts, branches - anthing that would burn to start the charcoal to cook on and for the fire on the beach after dark fell. I came out with cactus stuck to my legs, barbs deep, and blood running down my legs. Gonna have to learn to watch out better.
Friends Bob, Angie, Christine, Paul, Michael were there as well as a large group of familiar faces, but no names to go with them.
The obligatory beach fire,tended passionately by Angie, who would disappear into the jungle, rustle around a bit in the dark, returning with fallen palm leaves to re-new the blaze.
