Because I have been called the anchorage spy by some of my friends and wifey, I have to live up to that tag sometimes and do some real nosing.
We seem to anchor next to older solo sailor dudes for some reason lately. Not sure what the draw is for Deb as she is the one searching for the perfect drop spot. I help until she chases me out of the cockpit because I keep finding “better” spots as she is approaching the previously agreed upon anchor drop. I suppose that’s annoying. We dropped the hook in a good spot but sometimes when the wind shifts we get “close” to another vessel next to us with an older gentleman on board who seems pleasant enough to wave and not be the least interested in us being too close.
So being next to this solo sailor has been interesting. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to sail alone. Debra thinks you become squirrelly and maybe she’s correct, based on evidence gathered at the tiki bar. I never really see young male solo sailors. They all tend to be pushing retirement age. Female solo sailors tend to be younger or they just look younger. Maybe it’s tougher on the men and they age poorly and the ladies are enjoying their solo time and feel young and free.
When we listen to the net in the morning and hear a grouchy person it is usually a male and typically one who sails alone. One morning two solo sailing males got into a shouting match and one threatened to cut off the others balls and drop them into the Bay. Huh, I would think just the act of cutting off your balls would be enough of a threat. I suppose dropping them into the Bay also cuts off any hope of reattachment? I don’t know. It could drive you crazy knowing your manhood is somewhere under your boat instead of under your ass. Anyhow it seems they have cooled their respective jets and are now somehow coexisting.
The guy next to us seemed nice. We would just wave as we passed by on the way to shore. We learned from the last guy we went to talk to that it’s best to just wave. If you remember the last solo guy we decided to exchange pleasantries with was a nut job. After critiquing our boat, anchoring method and where we were from he asked us to pick up his mail. Asshole.
I called this new guy ‘Buckets’ because he was always hauling sea water inside the boat and always dumping whatever outside the boat. We decided swimming was off limits.
Buckets would row to shore every day. Admirable. Any kind of weather he would row. Buckets could probably crack my head like a nut with his arms. Pretty impressive.
One day buckets didn’t row home. Buckets was brought home by the Coast Guard. Then buckets was taken away by the Coast Guard. Then Buckets was brought back and Buckets started scrubbing his boat bottom, running his engine and stowing his gear. A few days later Buckets was pulling anchor and raising sails. Buckets headed south over the horizon to Trinidad in his small boat leaping off the waves.
I have no idea what happened but for whatever reason Buckets has left Grenada. So if there is a point to this post besides adding credence to to my “Anchorage Spy” moniker is that you should pay attention to the dates on your Customs and Immigration paperwork, do not overstay your welcome and do not cut off any one’s balls and toss them into the Bay.