We are sailors. Or I should say my husband is a sailor, the captain, I am crew. Nervous at times, always game.
We were on Spice Island. Grenada is called that for a reason – the scent of nutmeg from the plantations fills the hot, humid air. It is a lush, green, tropical Island. Bordered on one side by the Caribbean Sea with turquoise blue water, sparkling in the sunshine, with the wake breaking on beautiful sandy beaches. Most of the time that is what it looks like. But not always, as I learned.
We eagerly picked up our charter boat one sunny, November morning. The charter company was very excited – they had upgraded us to a 42-foot boat. Normally that would be exciting, but it was just the two of us on this voyage. Lots of boat for one captain and crew. But off we went.
As we sailed along the coast of Grenada the sky was clear blue, the water turquoise, just enough wind to fill the sails. The Island looked beautiful – green, hilly – you could almost smell the humid nutmeg from the sea. We headed up through the Islands to Carriacou – where we lolled at anchor in quiet bays for days.
Finally we headed back to Grenada – down along the coast. Ahead of us we could see the cloud formation – and knew what it meant. Squall. If you look up the definition of a squall it is “sudden, sharp increase in wind speed lasting minutes, as opposed to a wind gust, which lasts for seconds.” With a boat that size and only the two of us we started to take down the sails. Turn on the engine. As the wind picked up, and the tasks became more difficult we recognized the same cloud formation coming at us from another direction – two squalls converging on top of us – the perfect storm, as they say. At this point my fear took over of my skills. We had donned our life jackets. That beautiful turquoise blue water was now a mass of churning grey foam. We could see nothing – only knowing that the shore of Grenada was near.
I am not Catholic, but at that point I wished I was, and had a rosary, and could pray on it. I was lodged in the companionway – for the non-sailors that is the few stairs that go down from the cockpit to the cabin. Clinging to the sides. Too afraid to watch – but unable to stop watching.
All of a sudden there was a blip in the grey waves. As we looked closer we saw it was a small outboard motor boat – with two people. Well it wasn’t going to be easy but we knew we had to help. So we (the royal version) steered closer. When we got within site there were two fellows in the boat – fishing! They smiled and gave us a thumbs up. I guess when you grow up on the sea, and fish for a living, a couple of squalls won’t hold you back. Different for a girl who grew up on the prairies.
We sailed through the squalls. Back to turquoise. Warm salt air. Sails up, gentle breeze filling them. Not the same ocean. Safely home to the scent of nutmeg.