It’s been a while since Paul and I have had to say goodbye. Some islands we only stay for a short period of time, but we have been in Grenada since June 23, 2023. We are coming up on two months of living on our boat in different bays and anchorages, and it’s hard to sum up how important this time was to us.
Firstly, our visit this year was night and day different from our visit last hurricane season in Grenada. It is difficult to make a comparison if you have only been to a place once, so I think it can provide a lot of insight just by returning. What Paul and I could not see last year was that Grenada was (like the rest of the world) coming out of the slump of COVID closures and fiscal depressions. Businesses were still shuttered, people were still scared of disease, still fresh from suffering loss, and coming to terms with what the world would look like.
As such, we didn’t see the vision of Grenada that so many other people carry in their hearts- a naturally beautiful, lush island filled with very friendly people. Grenada is an island that smiles, with people who laugh loudly. Grenada is a generous island, people will share what they have, and it is expected that you will too. We have seen an island in recovery and on its way back up to brighter days.
We have also made friends. We meet lots of people while we sail- Paul is a magnet for new acquaintances (loud, gregarious, quick to laugh and buy a drink), but short-term acquaintances do not always lead to long term friends. Owning and living on a boat is not enough of common denominator to make a true friend. True friends are hard to come by, it’s a mix of kismet (wow, we met at the right time and the right place) and being compatible in all those ways that are hard to point to. Just this past weekend we took our friend Jamie on our boat and sailed to Carriacou, where both he and Paul sailed in the regatta on a 125 year old wooden ship.
It was an easy week of having not just a good guest (who knows how to live on a boat already), but someone who gets us, likes us, can pass an easy moment in quiet, or out loud. We raced hermit crabs on the beach, ate pizza at the bar, made tacos on the boat, snorkeled and joked around. We have friends who have shown us how to Hash, friends who invited us aboard for home cooked meals, friends who played volleyball with us, accompanied us to new restaurants, river tubed with us, played the recorder for us, sang songs to us, cared for us, gave us rides, volunteered with us, showed us hidden treasures. Now it’s time to say goodbye to the people who helped make Grenada home.
It’s also difficult to leave a place when it becomes comfortable. When you know the bus system, the best days to buy vegetables, the best days to go to the movie theater or where to get wine. Because we know when we arrive at the next port, we will have to start again from basics (where is the grocery, what is the bus fare, what are the rules, what are the costs, where is the best bakery, where is the cheapest rum, how do we fit in, where do we do good). We are comfortable here and able to get through days with less friction (most boat people know that simple tasks like going to the grocery, or trying to repair a simple break can take all or most of the day even when the stars align in your favor). When we start over somewhere new, simple tasks take double the time, and cost twice as much. We will long for past groceries, bread days, and friends with cars, or extra to share. Nights of impromptu invitations to bonfires, dinner, drinks on the shore.
The heartbreak and anxiety that comes with moving on is only tempered by our sense of adventure and desire for discovery. The morning we leave is always a bitter pill to swallow; waking up, checking out, buying our last mangos and trying to get underway as early as possible, all while our heart is breaking thinking of the dogs you volunteered at the shelter with (will they get adopted? I pray yes), the friends we leave behind (will they miss us too? Where will we meet again?), and mostly, will I ever see this beautiful place in person again. It is these times that make us want to stay and only our commitments to leave will get us up and on the way to our next destination. Once we are underway the feelings of loss fade a bit and the excitement of exploration take over, but until then…
Thank you for having us Grenada, I do not know where we will be next Atlantic Hurricane season- but you have treated us with sweet mangos, soft rains, inquisitive turtles, lovely people, cold beer, and a thousand small kindnesses that could never be written down. You kept us safe, you brought us plenty, and we are in your debt to tell the world about the Spice Island.
Love
Paul and Lindsay
PS the past 10 days or so have been a whirlwind of activity on our so-called goodbye tour. From sailing in a Regatta in Carriacou, Hashing, tubing the Balthazar river, snorkeling the underwater sculpture park, having a romantic dinner at Little Dipper, listening to live music, and now celebrating SpiceMas with the entire island of Grenada, we are going out with a bang.
TIBURON MARINO 