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
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
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.
"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!