Prickly Bay… 25/09/2021

Once again, apologies for not posting anything for quite a while. I have been sitting at anchor in Prickly Bay, waiting for the work to be done to the boat. Because nothing dramatic has happened, I’ve not posted anything. But perhaps this is a mistake – so I’m going to try and rectify it by relating something about what it’s like here. 

I’ve come to the conclusion that it has been good for me to sit here for the past 6 weeks. I have had no pressure to do anything, and this has been something of a revelation. You spend your life always pressured, always having clear time limits, always having something to do. Very little opportunity to say “I’ll just live”. Now, I’ve had time, and it has been very enjoyable. I am not good at just sitting around, so I’ve had plenty of exercise. Covid rules here have had some influence on the structure of my days – beaches are only open from 5am to 1pm, for example, so I’ve been going to the beach every weekday in the morning. To Grand Anse beach it is 2-miles (3.2km) – so it’s great exercise walking there and back. It’s hilly too. The beach itself is regarded as one of the best in the Caribbean, so it’s worth the effort. Then late afternoon, before sunset, I tend to go for a half hour walk around here. In between, I dive overboard whenever I feel hot.

It certainly is hot. Today it’s 32 degrees, “feels like 40” due to the humidity. I’m used to it by now, plus there’s usually a decent breeze, so sitting up on deck in the shade doesn’t feel bad. This weekend (as were the last two weekends) there’s a complete Covid lockdown, meaning stay at home from Friday 5pm till Monday 5am. Actually it’s quite pleasant – I consider the water around my boat to be my “garden” so I swim for exercise (and no-one has come and told me I can’t do it!). I’ve just been in and swum a couple of hundred metres. The water feels pleasantly cool compared to the air, although it’s wonderfully warm, about 28 degrees. If I wish, I can easily engage in conversation with one of my neighbours – that’s always good exercise, treading water for 45 minutes or an hour while chatting!

It’s easy – and cheap – living here. Being at anchor, I pay nothing. (There are plenty of mooring buoys in the bay and about half of the boats are tied up to one, but there’s really no need to pay $10 a day when the holding is very good – the bottom is sand and weed and my anchor is well dug in). My only expenses are food from the supermarket and water from the little marina here. Every 4 days I fill three 20-litre water cans, which I pour into one of my tanks, and two 5-litre plastic bottles for drinking. This costs about £2, so water will run to about £15 a month. Lugging 20-litre water cans along the dock, into the dinghy and then up onto the boat is good exercise. Added to the swimming, I feel stronger than I have ever been!

So, it’s a relaxed and pleasant scene. There are a good variety of people around. On one boat there are a couple of young Canadian guys, early 30’s perhaps; on a catamaran nearby, an American family with three small kids, who live wonderful days running up and down their boat and diving overboard into the bay. 

The question of what brings people here is interesting. Pretty often, there has been a singular life experience that has led the person into a new, completely different, sort of life. My two immediate neighbours are good examples. To port is a Swedish guy, alone on his boat. He’s an ex-stonemason who had run his own business and built his own boat a few years ago. He then fell sick with Lyme Disease and was terribly ill for 3 years. He really felt that he was dying. Finally, as he got a little better he and his son decided to sail to the Caribbean. Once in warmer climes he rapidly got better, threw away his medicines and has since been fine. His son went home, but he stayed on and has now been in the Caribbean for more than 2 years. Turning 60, but now in great shape, he considers himself to have been given a new chance at life – and has no intention of returning to Sweden. His inspiration is an elderly Swedish man on the other side of the bay, who is 78 and happily sailing a 44-foot yacht alone.

To starboard is a Dutch man and his local girlfriend. He’s 69 and has been in the Caribbean since 2015. He tells me his life fell apart in 2012 when his wife died. He was very depressed for 2 years and shut down his small business because he just couldn’t manage it anymore. In desperation he sailed his boat to Scotland, to the Orkneys and Shetland. A friend then said why don’t you go south where it’s warmer? So he headed south and ended up in Morocco. There, another friend said why don’t you sail to the Caribbean, I’ll come with you for 4 weeks. So he arrived in Grenada 6 years ago and after travelling around is still here. Although he has a house and a car in the Netherlands, he hasn’t been back for 2 years. Like the Swede, he simply hopes that he can continue to live on his boat as long as possible. He has no motor for his dinghy, preferring to row it ashore a couple of times a day for the exercise. 

The nice thing about being on a boat is that you have your “house” and you have neighbours. And of course if you don’t like the neighbours, or just want a change of scene, you just pull up the anchor and move. I don’t think a better solution has been invented.