Sailing the Grenadines

• February 28 - March 10, 2007

February 28, 2007. (Started in Wheaton, ended in St. Vincent) It takes just about all day to make it to St. Vincent. Although it's not in an obscure part of the Caribbean, it has an obscure airport. I got up at 3:00 AM and was on my way to National Airport by 4. My flight left at 6. At the Airport I met a young, cute gay couple. They were going to San Juan for a long weekend. They were all wrapped up in each other, so I think it was a honeymoon or a very hot "date."

I flew to Philly and raced through the airport to my San Juan connection. Note to self: US Airways is still a rinky-dink air carrier. The flight to San Juan was three hours, then I had a three-hour layover. I had to go outside security and get my Liat ticket re-issued. The Liat counter had me thinking that I might be working with the most modern airline in the world. Service has many different meanings. Finally at an obscure gate in the San Juan Airport we boarded our Liat 383 flight to St. Vincent. Of the eight guys on the boat, three of us are missing our luggage. From the pile of luggage I saw at the Airport this appears to be a routine occurrence. Liat evidently means, "Luggage isn't always timely."

On our way to the boat, because Liat had misplaced Tom's and my luggage, we stopped in at a shop named Macho to buy some shorts and sandals. Some of the guys were razzing us about spending so much time shopping, but, after all, being gay means looking good. After being steamrollered into making what might be ill-considered purchases, we eventually made it to the anchorage and the boat. I always forget how small the cabins in these things are. I stowed my stuff. We hung out on the boat for a while waiting for the others to show up. About 8:00 PM they did; we went up for dinner at the Lagoons Marina and Hotel, came back to the boat and called it a day.

Intrepid Band of Merry Men
Captain Rick, Jerry, Phil
Jeff, Chris, Jim
Laurent, Happy, Tom

Our Journey

March 01, 2007. (Started in St. Vincent, ended in Young's Cut) We are a herd of cats, and I suppose I should introduce the cast of characters: Jerry is the organizer; Jeff was a Peace Corps volunteer in Nepal. Jim is a Canadian who redefines Canadian hospitality. Rick is the captain from Hilton Head, South Carolina. Laurent is our resident Frenchman. He's very cute without his clothes on. Tom is Laurent's partner and is a great shopping companion. Phil is a retired schoolteacher born and raised in West Virginia. He escaped to DC when he went to grad school. Chris rounds out the travelers, a quiet, literary, (cute) bird-watching type.

It took us a long time to get going. Some of us went shopping to supplement the boat's provisions. Chris, Jeff, and I purchased what we hope will be enough alcohol. Phyllis was our taxi driver she has a formidable presence. But she was very helpful in telling us amid throaty chuckles how to cook green bananas. And indeed, her recipe worked quite well.

Captain Rick instructed Jerry, Phil, and I on how to raise the mainsail. Happily, Jerry and Phil knew what the captain was talking about. But I get ahead of my story. Breakfast for me, consisted of roasted peanuts and Oreo cookies. Oh, there was the cool, as in less than lukewarm, shower. No soap because I had no luggage. In fact, life without luggage was not going to be a problem after Jeff offered me a pair of boxer shorts. Toothpaste and deodorant rounded out everything I needed for this trip.

Fort Duvernette, Young's Cut

We did get underway and sailed over to Young Island Cut, perhaps a ten-minute dinghy ride from the Blue Lagoon where we were docked the night before. And indeed, my luggage arrived, and Phyllis delivered it to the Blue Lagoon dock for $50 EC. I think I'm going to make a lost luggage claim on my travel insurance, because I had to buy some clothes.

Jim and I cooked dinner: hot dogs, tossed salad, and green bananas. It was reminiscent of what might have been 4-H camp fare, in other words, pretty good. The bananas tasted a lot like potatoes. Salt, pepper, butter, ummm. We hung out a bit after dinner, then Jerry and I took a Caribbean bath, then on to bed.

March 02, 2007. (Started in Young's Cut, ended in Friendship Bay, Bequia) We got up and out around 10:00 AM. Today's big highlights was some snorkeling at Petit Byahaut. My snorkel gear works okay. Most of the other guys went through the bat cave. I decided not to go. It was probably the effects of too many Hairoun beers. The boys confirmed that, indeed, there were bats, and they talked much about the blue light. I think I missed a religious experience, which is kind of ironic among this crowd.

Petit Byahaut

After lunch we've raised all the sails and headed off to Friendship Bay in Bequia. The wind and the sun are wonderful and feeling it is what this sailing is all about. It's very different than the Barefoot cruises, smaller scale, much more intimate. I got way too much sun and burned my arms and feet pretty well the snorkeling effectively removed all of the sun block from my back. Stupid me!

I assisted Laurent with cooking dinner - chicken (grilled), green snap beans, rice, and Pepperidge Farm chocolate cake. Boy scouts everywhere, eat your hearts out. The barbecue grill mounts on the rear steps of the boat. I fired up the grill and assisted Laurent. I think in my next life I'll come back as a prep boy.

Skills for a Caribbean voyage: Jerry taught me how to bathe off of the back steps. He jumped off the steps, climbed back on the steps, lathered, jumped in and rinsed off, climbed back on, and rinsed off with fresh water. Lots of effort and such a pleasing result!

We anchored at Bequia, and it was very windy. We eventually dropped two anchors. We are a very jolly crew. Nice conversations. Some games. Then bedtime. Phil and I talked for about a half hour after lights out. He's a retired teacher/administrator who worked at Gallaudet University in the elementary and high schools. He escaped from West Virginia. It was a very nice conversation.

March 03, 2007. (Started in Friendship Bay, Bequia, ended at Baradel, Tobago Cays) We left Bequia early by gay standards. We had a very windy day crossing to Tobago Cays. We anchored near the north side of Baradel. We passed by Canouan where we saw some blasting on the hillside but no Donald Trump. The crossing took a couple of hours, and I spent an hour or two steering the sailboat. This is, after all, a learning vacation. Captain Rick was right there, telling me how to steer by sight and by the feel of the pressure on the wheel. All of this is very cool, kind of like being an expectant five-year old.

Off of Baradel

After dropping anchor at Tobago Cays, several of us went snorkeling on the reef that surrounds the cays. The snorkel gear works pretty well, and it really is fun looking at all the pretty plants and fish. Pretty is a technical term. I do drink a lot of saltwater though. Maybe it will make me more regular.

I must say, I love looking at the guys. We're all, with a couple of notable exceptions, becoming grey of mien and perhaps long of tooth. I guess we have many moons among us. Speaking of moons, we were supposed to see a total eclipse of the moon, but we only saw the beginning before heavy clouds moved in. We had some brief, torrential showers during the night.

Not to get ahead of myself, Jerry and I did some baking in the late afternoon. We made banana bread, and for dinner, Laurent fixed a delicious potato dish, gratinee Dauphine, or something like that and Tom and I grilled steaks. These meals have been delightful.

The banana bread has a back story. Early Thursday morning before we left of the dock, Jerry had gone to an Internet café and Googled a banana bread recipe. He carefully wrote it down, then promptly misplaced it. For Jerry, this is a very serious matter. He felt he couldn't proceed without his recipe. So I sat down with him, and he and I reconstructed a recipte that turned out very well.

March 04, 2007. (Started in Baradel, Tobago Cays, ended in Chatham Bay, Union Island) Today was my 56th birthday. I miss the boys back home, but I also like it here - a million miles from nowhere.

I'm sitting at the table in the cabin looking at the full moon over the ocean. I can see out the cabin door of beach against the greenback crop of a very steep hillside that plunges into the sea. I don't see a lot of this in Wheaton.

Boat Boys (Yellow Man)

So let me recount my birthday adventures. We hung out at the Tobago Cays all morning. Yellow Man, a local boat vendor, brought us some ice, but conveniently forgot to give Jim any change. This act of entrepreneurship would remain a theme throughout the remainder of the trip.

Tom and Jerry headed off for the reef while Laurent, Jeff, Chris, and I went to the tiny beach on Baradel's backside. It's not a world class beach, but it was filled with many little worlds - tidal pools. If you stood quietly for any time at all, the crabs came out, hundreds of them. For the most part, they were small, greenish gray rock climbers of considerable agility and speed. When Laurent or I would walk on the rocks, they would all scurry ahead. I saw one that leaped sideways between two rocks. I saw one larger crab that was also gray, but the rim of its shell was mottled with red and white.

Laurent started picking up bottles and cans that had either been left on the beach or had been washed up. He and I picked up two bags worth, leaving the beach a little cleaner than we had found it. Jeff and I picked up some coral pieces, and I found a few pieces of beach glass. It wasn't particularly old, but was already smoothed and translucent.

Jeff and Chris swam back to the Amaryllis, observing fish and coral on the way. Captain Rick came and picked Laurent and me up in the dinghy. On the way to the dinghy, I jammed one of my toes into a rock and bruised it pretty badly. It's a nice purple color. I had some sandals on, but in the current, one of them came off, and I was doing a perilous ballet with the beach trash, my beach towel, all in 3 feet of water. In my mind's eye, it looked amusing.

Back on board, we got ready to sail to Union Island to take on some water. We were completely out. This somewhat changed our plans for the day, because earlier we had thought about going to Petit St. Vincent (PSV) or Petit Martinique. Because it is Sunday, we wouldn't be able to re-provision in PSV.

Clifton Harbor

Clifton on Union Island is a sleepy little town, especially on Sunday. Tom took the boat into the harbor, and Rick berthed us at the dock. The dockmaster at best, was officious, although captain Rick probably has another word for him. The gentleman in the next boat was also somewhat put out by the berthing operation. He was medium height, darkly tanned, shaved head, an enormous belly, and wearing a patterned beach themed bikini. Such passes for fashion in Clifton.

On the dock, Jim purchased a crew's worth amount of pan au chocolat from Jean Pierre, who had a small bakery stand at the top of the dock. While the boat was putting on water, several of us headed into town - Jerry, Tom, Jeff, Chris, and me. Jeff, Chris, and I had run out of alcohol. Jerry was looking for some provisions for Jim. We all were looking for postcards.

Most of the markets were closed, after all it was the Sabbath, but I found one open. These markets are pretty all-purpose. Jerry, Jeff, Chris, and I found pretty much what we wanted. The store also had a flea market section with some rather remarkable items. The shelves of the shop were stocked pretty well, with some very strange juxtapositions of product placement, everything from cake toppers to machetes. This definitely wasn't Safeway. After the merry shopping excursion, we walked back through town to the boat. We passed Union Island's memorial to the slaves, a cannon that was used to protect the island from American privateers, and a salt water pond that hosted a couple of sharks.

Union Island Skyline

Back on the boat, captain Rick orchestrated his departure from the dock. The neighbor was acutely attentive, and Tom, Chris, Jim, and I were all lined up with our fenders to prevent the two boats from touching. Captain Rick made a flawless exit.

We raised sails and took a long and meandering sail around the island, to Chatham Bay. I was here two years ago, and it is no longer the isolated place it was then. It's still uninhabited, but there's a new hut on the beach, and ten boats in the bay. It's a pleasant place with little to do, which is why we're here. After anchoring, Captain Rick took Jim, Jeff, and Phil to the beach where they strolled along the beach, Jeff bit into the forbidden fruit (a small apple from the manchineel tree, and the guys supped drinks from the local wooden shack bar while watching geckos capture flies for supper. I sunbathed a little, then when the captain returned, he took us out in the dinghy to get some pictures of the boat in the bay. We also took some dramatic pictures of Jerry reenacting the birth of a sea nymph. Very inspirational poses!

Before sunset, Captain Rick took us back to the beach to pick up the beach goers, then we headed back to the boat taking many sunset snaps. My evening concluded with teaching Tom the rudiments of pinochle. He's already pretty good with it. Dinner was pork chops, salad, and rice. After a couple more hands of pinochle, it was lights out for me.

Sunset at Chatham Bay

Of course, being completely forgetful, now that I'm 56, I did not mention earlier that after dinner, captain Rick gave us each a quality kazoo, and everyone kazooed me a happy birthday, really very touching and delightful. (Captain Rick owns a kazoo factory.) I wish I could have recorded it. The experience reminded me of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I also got the last slice of Jim and Jerry's key lime pie. Privilege comes with age, perhaps? Thanks boys. I loved it.

March 05, 2007. (Started in Chatham Bay, ended in Petit St. Vincent) Chatham bay is on the opposite side of Union Island from Clifton. Our task for today was to sail from Chatham Bay to Petit St. Vincent (PSV)/Petit Martinique (PM), which is directly across the water from the Clifton side of Union Island. We left Chatham Bay relatively early in the AM. When we got out of the island's shadow, Captain Rick pointed the boat at Carriacou, and we set off at 9 knots, which is very fast on a catamaran, the wind whipping between my legs. Ah, the joys of sailing naked.

Happy at the Helm

I took the helm for the next two hours, lots of tacks, and, truly more fun than a hard on. I love being at the wheel. Captain Rick is willing to do a sailing class with three or four of us in the BVI. I think Jerry's interested. I guess I'll talk with some of the other guys about it.

We arrived at Petit Martinique shortly after three in the afternoon. Immediately we had difficulty setting our anchor. In a very short order, the anchor power failed and one of the engines overheated. Captain Rick investigated and we had shredded a belt on the alternator.

Undercover US Agents Exploring Grenadian Territory

Looking adversity directly in the eye, Jeff, Jerry, Chris, Phil, and I decided to sneak into Petit Martinique to hike and to do some shopping. (I say sneak, because Petit Martinique is not part of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, but is part of Grenada, and we did not officially enter Grenada through Carriacou.) We walked through the village into the scrub about 2/3s of the way up the mountain, probably a two-mile walk. The island is Caribbean "romantic," picturesque, colorful houses, friendly people, and lots of goats. We had an encounter with a cow, bull and calf. They were rather scrawny brahma living on scrub. I'd still give them wide berth (much like the gentleman in Clifton).

Pictures of our walk in Petit Martinique:

Petit Martinique

Martinique Statistics

Market

SpongeBob waving the Grenadian Flag

First Class or Coach

Petit Martinique Neighborhood

Local Jail

Cemetery

Looking Toward Carriacou

Martinique's Hill

Still Walking

Mother and Child

We got back to the boat to discover that the steering cable to the rudders was busted. Actually, shredded and frayed. We were living the Curse of the Amaryllis. We also became acquainted with Peter, the boat boy, and his partner in a very profitable criminal economic enterprise. Exorbitant pricing and happy faces are their trademarks. We do not recommend them. They charged us $60US to take five of us to shore and then $90US for a case of Hairoun beer, a case of Bitter Lemon, and a block of ice. Plus, we got ripped off on the bottle deposits. After all, those bottles had to be transported to Union Island. These two appear to be the main boat boys at PSV. Beware.

To break the curse, six of us went to the Palm Beach Restaurant on PM. The restaurant sent its own boat over for free. We had a very enjoyable meal out. The situation had its own irony; here we were, illegal aliens in a foreign country, but the meal really was very good. We had to put up with some loud American tourists, though. Not that I'm complaining, my suspicions are that they were illegal aliens, as well. I wonder if this will cause an international incident with Grenada and the United States? We returned to the boat to find out that Jim had made some delicious chocolate chip cookies, which was a wonderful way to end this day.

Mooring at Petit St. Vincent

March 06, 2007. (Started in Petit St. Vincent, ended in Mayreau) This AM started out at the Anchorage at Petit St. Vincent. The people here are poor, but only compared to the tourists. They also appear to be very devout - catholic, evangelical, or Rastafarian. The boat boys, Saint Peter, the Avaricious, and his sidekick returned. Their financial machinations continue to be discussed on board. Jim has also put out an APB on Yellow Man.

Sunrise at Petit St. Vincent

From PSV, we headed out to Petit Tabac and the Tobago Cays. This is the Johnny Depp Pirates of the Caribbean location. I've been here before, and it's not changed much. Laurent, Jerry, and I walked around the island. Jerry did it barefoot, which on the rocks and dead coral, looked painful. Laurent and I had on beach shoes. The snorkeling around the island was better than in other places we've been. I'm glad I had the snorkel, but I still don't have the hang of it. I drink more than my fair share of seawater.

Petit Tabac

From Petit Tabac, we headed in a very quick sail to Mayreau, which French Women scream when they have an orgasm, at least that's what Jeff told me. We anchored in Saline Bay. For dinner, we had steaks and a rice pilaf of sorts. Key lime pie for dessert. Excellent cooks, excellent company. Laurent makes a mean marinade, and Tom grills a mean steak. There's been a running discussion between Jim and Jerry about the Jerry's pie crust, but it all comes together very well in the key lime pie. On a more personal note, after I taught Tom pinochle, he cleaned my shorts.

Mayreau Sunset

Jerry Looking at the SV Mandalay

March 07, 2007. (Started in Mayreau, ended in Admiralty Bay, Bequia) We didn't go ashore at Mayreau, so we're making up for it in Bequia. We left Mayreau shortly after breakfast at 9:00 AM! The SV Mandalay was anchored in the next bay over (Saltwhistle Bay). We hoisted our gay flags, then motored around the Mandalay, raised our mainsail, waved excitedly, and headed out to sea. It was later reported to us that our activities completely disrupted the cruise mate's presentation. She gave up told all of the guys on deck to go to the side of the ship and wave at us. Jerry looked spectacular in the buff and was warmly applauded.

We had a rough crossing to Bequia - at times hit ten knots amidst swells and occasional whitecaps. We arrived at Admiralty bay around 2:00 PM. Several of us went ashore to explore Port Elizabeth, to get some bread and beverages, and I went to an Internet café to check my e-mail. We had a lazy shopping day, came back to the boat, took our ablutions, and five of us went to dinner at Frangiapani's. The callaloo soup is better here than in Petit Martinique. Thus ends another day in the islands.

Ship in Admiralty Bay

March 08, 2007. (Admiralty Bay, Bequia) today started early. Everyone was at before 8:00 AM. Jerry, captain Rick, Phil, and I dinghyed over to the donut shop. The donuts for freshly baked, and the two women were the nicest shopkeepers. We had a plethora of choices, including chocolate, cinnamon and sugar, white sugar, and plain. In the end, we took one bag of each.

When we got back to the boat, Tom and Jeff had cooked bacon and pancakes for breakfast. I'm afraid I'm eating too much, but that's probably unrelated to this vacation. We all got ready to leave for shore. Jerry and Jeff were going biking, and the rest of us were headed for the turtle sanctuary. Through some intricate negotiations, Tom and the captain arranged a cab with Cream Skin. It was a package deal; he would not only take us to the turtle sanctuary, but would also deliver us to Moonhole.

The road to the turtle sanctuary is paved, and about wide enough for one and a half small cars. Our taxi was a Toyota small truck. We sat on benches in the back, and held on. Bequia is one of those places that you can call picturesque and not be too far off the mark. You cross a mountain ridge, and see a turquoise ocean. You round a corner and see brightly colored houses clinging to the hillside. Drivers honk rather than use their brakes. Roads go steeply up and down at crazy angles. A spot of level land is a rare commodity here.

Guest at the Turtle Sanctuary

The turtle sanctuary is an unpretentious place. It's a low concrete building that has several pools and water courses for the turtles. I have lots of turtle pictures, and a couple of movies, too, that are going up on You-Tube. The gentleman who runs the sanctuary, Brother King, is a 68 year-old guy who has something of a Messianic complex to save the turtles. It appears to have pissed off the taxi driver who had a spirited discussion with Captain Rick. As tourists (and nominally green), we see the old man battling the system to save the turtles. The taxi driver saw him as a guy who had built the sanctuary on government land and wasn't paying any taxes, while charging tourists admission to see the turtles. Very interesting what a different perspective adds. (Of course, the taxi driver was also taking tourists out to the sanctuary for a good cab fare, too.)

Port Elizabeth, Bequia

After visiting the sanctuary, we stopped at an old sugar mill that has been converted into an artist's studio. It featured some pottery and watercolors. Phil purchased a beautiful fountain, and I made off with a watercolor of Petit Tabac, more for nostalgia than any intrinsic worth, although nostalgia may impart some intrinsic worth. Ask me a year from now.

We came back to Port Elizabeth. Phil and Chris stayed in town, and the remainder came back to the boat. Tom fried some bacon, and I sliced some tomatoes, and we fed the hordes BLTs. Then we began our Moonhole adventure. All of us had decided to go to Moonhole, and Cream Skin was our transportation. We were quite a merry band of men.

Moon Hole

Yesterday, Jerry called Moonhole and asked them if they had a tour available for today or Friday. The woman on the phone said Friday was not good, but that they were having a tour today. It was for a tour group from the boat Mandalay. They were a "special group...". Jerry got excited and said tell the Mandalay people that we were on the boat with the rainbow flags. The woman on the phone was still confused, and said they (the Mandalay boys) were a gay group. Jerry responded, great, we are too! - and that's how we ended up on the Moonhole tour with a whole bunch of gay men, including "Nasty Pig," a.k.a. Dieter.

Living at Moon Hole

Moonhole is a community of homes built with stone right into the mountain at the very southern tip of Bequia. The homes have no electricity, except batteries, very few glass windows (the rooms are directly open to the outside). It's akin to living in a giant, stone Swiss family Robinson tree house. Jim and Sheena, the owners, give tours of the property, which is 38 acres and has nineteen homes. Four of the homes are occupied year round. Twelve are occupied for several months during the year. Some of the houses are rented out. Jim and Sheena formed a land company and trust to manage the property. Some of the views are quite breathtaking. They have a beach to themselves, and great snorkeling. Who wouldn't want to live in paradise?

A Path through Moon Hole

Getting to the property is quite an experience it's beyond Bequia's airport, and the driveway to the property is bone rattling. Before the airport was built, the only access to the property was by boat. Unexpected serendipity from the construction is that some of the fill dumped into the ocean washed down to Moonhole and formed a beautiful beach.

Ocean View

Jim talked about the house as being part of nature, like the organic talk of Frank Lloyd Wright almost. And like Wright homes, the structures have their design flaws. Tom opined that there will be major maintenance nightmares for the next generation. On the other hand, you can live in a stone house in paradise, even if you do get hit by a falling ceiling beam.

Moon Hole Boys

Today's last act was Coco's. As prologue, Tom had stayed behind in Port Elizabeth, and everyone was going to meet behind the Gingerbread House at 6:45 PM so that Challenger could pick us up. We all arrived at 6:45, except for Tom. Some drama ensued with Laurent going off to look for Tom, and the remainder of us loaded in the back of the Challenger's Nissan pickup, and Challenger muttering darkly about the value of his time and that he had important things to do. Tom showed up around 7:00 PM after several of us were vocal in advocating leaving without him. Challenger gave Tom a bad time, but Tom exuded a certain self confidence which immediately ended the discussion.

We went to dinner, and Coco's has a beautiful view. A bunch of loud, ugly, straight people commented on our arrival. I mentally flipped them the bird. Service was excruciatingly slow, but the drinks kept coming. Most of us had grilled or Creole fish. Tom and Laurent had lobster, and Phil rounded out our choices with curried chicken.

The real drama of the evening occurred when Tom was figuring out the bill. Evidently Jim and Jeff had some unresolved issues. Jim marched the whole length of the table to Tom who was busy figuring out everyone's bill. Words were exchanged. Tom being very much the parent, "Sit down, Jim." And Jim replying, "You don't have to be an ass." Hmmm. Maybe this trip has gone on a day too long. I hope they remain friends, because I want to go on more sailing trips. P.S.: Coco's Special is a mixed drink that could easily remove your pants.

Dinner at Coco's

Of course me being a busybody, I tried to get to the bottom of it. There was a lot of misunderstanding. Several of the guys were upset that Tom had taken it upon himself to figure out the bill. Tom had thought that he was paying the bill with his credit card, and wanted to figure out everyone's share. And some of us were probably a little heated over Tom's tardiness earlier in the evening. Tom told me later that he had thought we were meeting at 7:00 PM. So there was a bunch of tangled miscommunication, and I hope a little lesson to all of us.

March 09, 2007. (Started in Bequia, ended in Blue Lagoon, St. Vincent) Today we leave Bequia and tack across to St. Vincent. We are all pretty quiet today, perhaps nostalgic. I love the swells, and how the boat rides them, and how I ride the boat. By the end of the sail, all of us are nimble footed. My bruises from the first two days have faded, and my sunburn is nothing but lacy skin gossamer across my back.

Returning to the Blue Lagoon

We dropped anchor in Young's Cut underneath Fort Duvernette. It's a sheer rock that rises a couple of hundred feet above the bay. Soldiers scaled the rock and mounted cannon on it to protect the harbor approach from pirates, or perhaps catamarans full of gay men. We stayed in the cut for about an hour, then headed into Blue Lagoon. We started removing garbage, cleaning, taking our showers. About 6:00 PM, Tom, Laurent, Chris, and I went to the Blue Lagoon Restaurant for drinks and dinner. Phil also joined us for drinks.

The four of us had a very enjoyable meal. Chris told us about what he does as a research librarian. Tom talked about transportation analysis. We had a nice little dinner party. I surprised myself and picked up the tab. I guess it was my way of saying thanks to the guys and to celebrate a wonderful vacation. Of course, I won't pick up the tab again. And I enjoyed flirting with the other three.

After dinner, Tom and I went to the bar and continued drinking. It was a very pleasant, civilized drunk. Mark, the restaurant manager, came over to talk, and we made a lively, if slurred, conversation with him, wondering whether we could, at some yet to be determined date, get into his pants. I mean, Tom and I had a really deep conversation. We got back to the boat around 11:00 PM, and walked around the boat and looked at the stars. There was a plateful of cookies on the table in the salon. Freshly baked banana bread was in a pan on the stove. In front of the cookies were the banana bread recipes, and scrawled across the bottom of one of the recipes in a pirate's hand were the bloodcurdling words, "Beware the curse of the Amaryllis!" I looked at Tom and he at me in the eerie of light of the cabin, the horror slowly sinking into our rum sodden brains. I slowly turned to Tom, and in a hushed and half-fearful voice said, "Want a cookie?"

March 10, 2007. (Blue Lagoon) Tom and I and the rest of the gay sailors survived the night and the curse. Chocolate chip cookies and banana bread for breakfast are always a good idea. Fortified with coffee, they are a totally balanced breakfast. The guys were yanking linens off beds, doing last minute packing, taking showers, eating cookies, cleaning anything that didn't move.

The temperament was a little sad, and animated by the immediate exigencies of the impending taxis to the airport and a boat walkthrough. The goodbyes started around 8:00, and were pretty much wrapped up by 9:15. I think I hugged more in that hour and fifteen minutes than I had in the previous ten days. I'm thinking that this group is more Brando than Winfrey. Guys, I love you all. I had a wonderful, even fabulous vacation with you.

Phil

Phil, you get the First Mate Sailing Award. You always knew what to do, and so effortlessly. You're an A+ cabin mate, too. Thanks for the Nathan Aldyne mysteries, and I thoroughly enjoyed our late night chats about West Virginia, and life in general. You made me feel like a real boy scout.

Jerry

Jerry, your butt just happens to be one of America's wonders. Your good humor and courage to try recipes inflicted on you by me earns you the, Boys, I Need to Collect Some More Money for the Kitty Award. I admire your many organizational talents, and your ability to convert EC$ to US$.

Jim

Jim, if you shave your head, I'll get you the diamond stud for your ear. In fact you get the Diamond Stud Award a.k.a. Mr. Clean, for reminding us to keep the boat livable. I appreciate your leadership. And thanks for those two fags on the back steps. Sometimes a cigarette is worth the health risk. I loved your key lime pie and your chocolate chip cookies. I hope we can sail together again.

Laurent

Laurent, without a doubt you win the Julia Child Prize. The competition wasn't even close, and the Pommes de Terre Au Gratin or whatever were amazing. I'm an expert on potatoes - I worked on a potato in Idaho in 1972, you really know your potatoes. Thanks for your company and your trenchant critique of American manners.

Chris

Chris, you are perhaps the most ardent birdwatcher I've ever met. So you get the Caribbean Birding Award. you not only knew that a particular bird was a tern, but you knew which one. I was impressed by that, and also by your sense of place and what appeared to be a real contentment in the moment. I owe you a couple of pictures of that demonstrate your classic cuteness.

Jeff

Jeff, without a doubt you win the Princess Cup. Your elan and style put the rest of us on notice that we had classy taste among us. I loved your boxer shorts. I adore your princess cup. You prepare fabulous rum-based drinks. You have potentially hundreds of career opportunities that the rest of us only dream about.

Tom

Tom gets the Calculating, Cold-hearted, Fearless, Unflinching Card Shark Award. He mastered in hours what took me decades to learn. Thanks for the card games and the bar tab. This is all part of a well-balanced vacation. Any time that you need a drinking buddy, please look me up.

Captain Rick

Captain Rick gets the Melodious Kazoo Award. Rick, when you and the boys played Happy Birthday, it very nearly brought tears to my eyes. I was very touched by it. You also get the Mr. Fixit Prize, and Ellen Degeneres' toaster oven.

Happy

So that's the story, of a sort. We had a wonderful time on a boat in the ocean, and I can't think of a better way to spend a week and a half with friends.

Jerry, here's the Banana Bread recipe:

1-3/4 c flour
1-1/2 t soda
1/2 t salt
1 t cinnamon
1 c butter
3/4 - 1 c sugar
4 eggs
1 c mashed banana (or more)
1 c milk
1 T lemon juice
1 t vanilla
I suppose you could add 1 cup or so of chopped nuts and some chocolate chips, too.

Heat the oven to 350°. Butter and flour a loaf pan. Mix together the flour, soda, salt, and cinnamon and set aside. Cream the butter and sugar. Beat in the eggs, one at a time. Stir in the mashed banana. Mix together the milk, lemon juice, and vanilla. Add the flour and the milk mixtures alternately to the banana mixture in three additions, mixing just until the flour is stirred in. Spread the batter in the prepared loaf pan (don't fill the pan more than 2/3s full). Bake 45 minutes to an hour.