One of my accomplices wrote the other day and told me we really didn't spend the night at Palm Island; all we did was eat lunch as we sailed by the place. Further, he reminded me I was fortunate not to have tossed my dentures overboard along with that lunch because of the previous night's overly large portion of Rum Ti's. Thank the Good Lord someone can remember what really happened to this particular boatload of drunks - I'd hate to have the voyage unchronicled in the record of mankind. I stand corrected, but unashamed. Sue me.
Most of the last post is a true account of events so long as you don't count spending the night at Palm Island. And the boat boys. And the hollering directly off shore from the richey-rich guys. So, we'll start today's adventure with me tossing my lunch."Sorry, guys, but I have to put my teeth in my pocket. Dang near lost them overboard just now," I said after emptying the contents of my stomach into the aqua-colored ocean. "You lucky drunks get to see me the same way my woman does in the morning." Of course the blame for this sudden loss of calories is not my fault; it matters little that I had too much to drink last night. Lee didn't use enough mayo on the sandwich and it went down a little funny. It's his fault.
We continued south for another four miles, passing Mopion Island, where the famous umbrella sits allalone on the beach, and turned to the east and our anchorage at Petite St. Vincent.
Please take the time to look at this link if you are unfamiliar with the engagement umbrella, it's beautiful.
http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g147380-d564173-r193656468-Mopion-St_Vincent_St_Vincent_and_the_Grenadines.html
Our anchor was dropped just two hundred feet from the boat dock at the resort located on the island, we secured the mailsail and rested. Capt'n Chris had again showed his invaluable experience. Several other boats arrived later and were told to move. Seems the resort's supplies are restocked on Wednesday nights and boats that had anchored closer to the dock than we had were told to move. Believe me, that's not a lot of fun.Once the boat is secured to the bottom for the night, glasses are filled. It's a magic something that happens all by itself in these islands, and magic in any form is not to be discounted. Weighing anchor and moving is sure to bring disaster in one or another form if instead of downing the newly filled glass, you do not offer it to Neptune.
We were soon approached by the local boat boys, (this is where we did in fact meet Mr. Fantastic from the first Day 4 post) and learned the price of ice delivered to the boat. Our supply was sufficient for the evening and we declined his offer.
Two hours later, we recognized the error of our ways and hatched a plan whereby we would become illegal aliens in the morning! Dang! I can't wait! I've often considered just what it would take to make one leave his lawful residence and cross international borders without permission. Now I know it's all a matter of cheap ice.
Rum Ti Recipe
one part sour, two parts sweet.
three parts strong, four parts weak.
five drops bitters, add some spice.
it's much better when cooled with ice.
Way too short! I was just settling in with the story....and "poof" you're gone.
ReplyDeleteGuess that just tells me how much your writing holds my attention! Thanks, Forrest...
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteI know it is..................but, in my defense, it's the same day as it was during the last post! You'll just have to wait till day 5 for a longer one and the tale of how Capt'n Chris, Lee and I became illegal aliens!
ReplyDeleteThis is another delightful entry into the Chronicles that will soon be famous so long as this trip goes awhile longer. I would have enjoyed reading more about cutting thru the water silently except for he whisper of breeze than your losing your lunch and/or teeth ... but that part can be edited out later. Your pictures are unbelievable. Is that really where you were? the link to the umbrella didn't work. You need to check those before publishing them. But I would have defected as well had I been anywhere close by. What an adventure you lived, Forrest. Everyman who is 55 or older, who realizes that he has to work until he's 80 to support this snazzy new wife and pay for the old wife and the kids in college. He'll want to be you. But he can't. So he'll carry your tales around in his pocket to meetings; on the train to and from wherever; on the plane; at night when he can't sleep because the dog is wheezing and needs to be held in a special position, and the wife needs her beauty sleep ... so he's the one on the couch with the dog draped over his lap so he can breathe easier. His eyes are heavy, but still he reads the Chronicles and knows that one day ... one day he simply won't come home, and will leave no forwarding address, except to the 401K people with the address of his banker in Cayman Islands. In short ... well done! Now pick up the story line and get us back under sail so we can feel the heeling of the boat, grab the dishes as they tumble off the shelves like kewpie dolls at a carnival during an earthquake. When you have to spend the night at sea or in a bay of sorts with no buoy but with anchors out that aren't holding. Just some suggestions.
ReplyDeleteWow. Your version is much better than mine! Want a ghost writing job?
Delete