Wednesday, July 18, 2012

The Days Drift By In Tyrell Bay

Tyrell Bay, Carriacou
We are anchored in the sleepy island of Carriacou, the sister island to Grenada. The days slip by, one day much the same as the next. We watch boats come and go and we wonder if we should move down to Grenada soon. Not much goes on here. We are keeping ourselves to ourselves; trying to save a few pennies towards the coming months. We know we should be getting on with boat projects but we feel in limbo, there is so much to do but we don’t want to turn the boat upside down when we still have one more sail to make this season. For some reason we can’t seem to tear ourselves away from here. We are anchored in a lovely spot that we call our swimming pool. The seabed is mostly weed except for where we are anchored. Under the boat the seabed is soft white sand, it looks rather like how I imagine the surface of the moon to look like. Although there is no reef to snorkel on, under the boat are Lesser electric rays some no bigger then my hand and others a foot or so long and Rock fish that I have never seen before. There are tiny weeny sand dollars the size of my thumb nail. We swim every day round and round in our pool. Most days we try and scrap the bottom of the boat to remove the furry green fuzz and barnacles from our hull. Since most of our crappy (yet expensive) Sea Hawk anti fouling has come off it has turned into a bit of a chore. We really need to haul out.

Giant Sea Monster!
We park our dinghy at one end of the beach and stroll to the other end. Past the pizza restaurant and the dive shop, past the piles of smelly conch shells and fishing nets laid out to dry and around to the small parade of shops and restaurants although some of them are fairly indistinguishable from houses, We enter the biggest store, about the size of an average news agent back home and a waft of stale food hits us. But that’s nothing unusual as most of these stores have a distinct smell. We hope we might find some meat other than chicken legs, thighs, backs and necks. Sim LOVES chicken thighs but there are only so many nights in a row that I can eat them. We are in luck; one of the chest freezers at the back of the shop has chicken breasts! We are very happy. We often wonder what they eat here other than chicken parts. Only the day before we had ventured into the main town of Hillsborough on the bus as the cat had run out of cat food and there wasn’t any to be found in Tyrell Bay - god forbid she misses a meal – all hell would break lose! The road weaved around the island past all the charming little huts and houses. Everything is covered in a small pink flower, an invasive vine; a weed, that is suffocating other plants but I think it looks pretty. Just as we arrive in town the heavens open and rain pours down – in biblical proportions. We try and take cover under a tree but it doesn’t offer much protection. A man in a wooden hut opens a door to us and calls us in. We are very grateful. It’s a barber’s shop/hut with one chair and a bench for waiting customers. Slashes of green red and yellow are painted on the wall. The man in the barber chair is obviously getting a trim as there is hair all over the floor. He has is back to us so we can’t see his face but he must have a beard as the barber hasn’t touched his extremely long dreads and he still has his hat on! Fancy that, getting a hair cut with a hat on.
Nets drying in the sun.
When the rain eases we hunt down the cat food, buy a load of fresh vegetables. We try to find some meat but once again all we come across were chicken parts – except for in Patti’s store but we find her a little expensive – the price you pay when you want imported goods it seems. As we walk back to the bus we pass a shop with brooms and plastic laundry baskets outside. Inside amongst other things they sell ovens and rucksacks plus two rows of food. At the back to the left there is a freezer and we can’t believe our eyes. For there, inside the freezer, is pack after pack of Lincolnshire sausages. We buy only two packs as we don’t have a freezer and go home very happy indeed. - Theres no need to leave when we have all we want here :-).

Smelly conch shells

Taking a stroll
C'est Moi!
View from our cockpit.

1 comment:

  1. The longer you spend in Tyrell, the faster the pace of life will seem in Grenada.