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August 9, 02
Sailing Over Kick 'Em Jenny

Leave it to the Caribbean to name an underwater volcano something odd like, Kick 'Em Jenny. I mean- what is that? I had noticed a poster at the Tyrrel Bay Yacht Club about it. Apparently, everyone carefully watches her activity level, and they use a color-coding system to describe how active she is. In any event, I don't think you're supposed to get too close. Somewhere in the back of my mind I had noted to inquire about what her mood was like before we left for Grenada as Kick 'Em Jenny would be right in our path to Saint George's Harbor.

We left this morning at 7am and waved to Wilf and Teresena on our way out of the anchorage as they sat in their cockpit having their morning coffee. It was an uneventful passage until we got off the north coast of Grenada. We were sailing along when the boat started feeling very weird. I looked at Curt over the pages my book. He didn't seem to notice anything as he gazed at the horizon ahead. So I continued to read.

There it was again. I looked at Curt. Again, no reaction. Maybe I was imagining it. I go back to my book.

A few minutes later, the boat was definitely doing something- well, weird. I knew it. I set my book in my lap and concentrated on what it actually felt like before asking Curt if he "felt that?" too. Hmm. Force Five was wiggling like a kid ice skating for the first time. The way their ankles are all wobbly wiggledy on the blades of their skates as they try to skate in a straight line. I imagine it might be something like driving in a car during an earthquake (not that I ever have). She was wiggling so much I might even say I felt a slight vibration, but that doesn't sound very likely does it?

"Do you feel that?" I asked.

"Feel what?"

"There. That. The boat feels weird."

"Weird? What weird?"

"Like she's all wiggly."

"Wiggly. No. I don't feel it. Wait- oh yeah. Now I feel it."

"Where's that volcano?"

"Oh no!" As we both run to grab the chart from below.

We both looked a bit aghast to realize we were right over Kick 'Em Jenny. There was nothing we could do about it now- and in any event, we seemed to be fine. We still don't know how big of a deal it is to go over it, but it's fun to say we did.

We arrived in Saint George's to find True Blue anchored there. They had run across our friends on Jammin' a few days before, but Ian and Mary had moved on south as they had someone board their boat while they were sleeping here and steal some stuff. We weren't anchored there long when we realized our anchor just wasn't digging in. The bay wasn't that great to look at anyway, so we decided to keep going south as well. We were gone no more than an hour after we had arrived and True Blue decided to move along too.

It was during a conversation on the VHF with True Blue that another boat must have recognized Force Five. I couldn't make out the station calling us- so I just came back on the radio with, "Station calling Force Five, this is Force Five." We switched to a working channel and it turns out Gary on Elusive knew our boat well, both through Martin (the original owner) as well as Sean and Jo. He welcomed us to Grenada and congratulated us on our inheritance of the good name of Force Five. He was so complimentary about her, I felt like a proud mom. He's anchored at Mount Hartman Bay and I promised to pay him a visit and introduce ourselves as the next generation of our boat's lineage in a more personal way when we made our was that far down.

We got to Prickly Bay around 5:00- just in time for happy hour at the Tiki Bar. We found a nice little shallow spot, right up front next to the dinghy dock and dropped anchor there. As pooped as we were, we couldn't resist the urge to head in and see who else might be around. We were just out long enough to clink glasses with some of the new friends we met in Carriacou and get the lay of the land at our new anchorage.

Curt and I had just come back to the boat to call it an early night. As I stretched my legs across the cockpit and leaned against a cushion, the thought occurred to me that we had been to I don't know how many islands and even more anchorages, and had yet to hear one steel pan band, or even one Jimmy Buffet or Bob Marley tune. I mean- hell-OH! Aren't we supposed to be in the Caribbean for goodness sake?!

It seemed that from the time we left Saint Maarten, we'd heard both an abundance of soca music, and more Christian revivalist preaching on the radio than we could bear. I had never heard soca before, and now that I have, I could be just as happy if that was as much as I ever hear. Soca sounds like someone playing some spastic aerobic music at double speed while someone's shouting at you with a West Indian accent you can't understand a lick of.

It's just one small part of how different the Caribbean is than I'd expected.

No sooner had Curt and I started having this conversation, then low and behold- steel pan music started bellowing out from the Tiki Bar. Our first sounds of live steel pan! I would have preferred not to be anchored close enough to reach out and beat the drums ourselves- but it was neat to sit out on the bow of our boat under the starts and listen to the sounds of the Caribbean.

Aug. 10, 02
We Did It.

Curt reminded me today that we've achieved the only thing we had on our agenda for this trip. To make it to Grenada before a hurricane made it to us!

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