Checking out the 'hood - Power Boats

When we were here last December, we had only two days to haul Nine of Cups and decommission her for her stay … no time to explore the boatyard or our immediate neighborhood. Chaguaramas is on the extreme northwestern tip of Trinidad, a peninsula jutting out into the Caribbean.

Chaguaramas is more an area than a town and it isn't much. There is one main road, Western Main Road, and that's pretty much it. Other than marinas, boatyards and the services/shops related to the boating industry, there's nothing here. There are several marina/boatyards around, but we chose Power Boats because 1) we were familiar with it from our last stay and 2) it was the most price competitive for hauling the boat and keeping her on the hard. We've not been here at Power Boats since 2002 and lots has changed … but lots has remained the same.

As boatyards go, Power Boats is just fine. Security is good. The entire land-side perimeter is fenced with 10' chain link with razor wire running along the top. There's a gate guard and security folks roam constantly.

There are enough amenities to make life on the hard at least tolerable. We've rented an A/C unit, so at least we're cool inside the boat and for sleeping. There are several shower/toilet blocks throughout the boatyard (although you have to insert a token for a hot water shower). They're nothing special, but they're usually clean and the cold water isn't all that cold.

There's a small grocery, the Dockside FoodMart, which is open 7 days a week and sells all the basics. It's situated right at the wharf (hence the name Dockside) and boats tie up alongside to get their day provisions and picnic supplies. Since our fridge is on the blink, they've graciously allowed us to store perishables in their fridge when we need to.

Sails is the marina restaurant. It's a pleasant enough place with a nice ambiance right on the water. Tourists enjoys it, but we find that it tends to have mediocre food and is too expensive for us to frequent.

There's also the Roti Hut which serves the Trini speciality, roti … think Caribbean curry burrito... most days at lunch. This is more in keeping with our taste and budget. There are also numerous roti stands and vendors outside the Power Boats gates that offer lunches and cold drinks, catering more to the marina workers as well as budget-minded cruisers. The Roti Hut area also provides a meeting place/picnic area for cruisers for Friday night potlucks and BBQs.

The on-site chandlery is small and convenient, but gets lots of competition from Budget Marine which is right next door. David makes at least one trip to each place each day. It's part of his daily ritual, I think. A yachtsmen's workshop next to the chandlery and out of the sun is a nice touch with workbenches and vises available for projects difficult to do on the boat … and lots of electrical outlets.

We have unreliable wifi on the boat … it comes and goes. It's free and we get what we pay for. There's also a small internet building which houses toilets on the first floor and a second-floor air-conditioned room with a more reliable, though less convenient, internet signal. I've been trotting down there with my laptop at least once a day to send Gentry my blog posts.

The laundromat room is hot and dusty. The washers and dryers work on tokens TT$15/each … about $5.00/load for wash & dry. It's not that expensive and relatively convenient other than climbing up and down the ladder and walking back and forth from the boat to get the laundry done. It certainly beats doing it by hand and hanging it out on the lines to dry in a dusty, dirty boatyard.

In general, the boatyard is a mini-community unto itself, pretty much self-contained and offering most any tradesman, service or supply we need. We wander outside the gates on occasion, but there's little need to unless we want a change in scenery.

There you have it … a mini-tour of Power Boats. But … enough touring for now. I'll talk more about living on the hard in the next few days … gotta go get some work done before the Captain complains.

Back in Trinidad

Yes, we're back in Trinidad. It was a long, two days to get back here, but things went like clockwork. The flights were all on time and the airline crews were hospitable and efficient (though we still only got one drink on the 5-hour flight). Trinidad Immigration and Customs at the airport were a breeze and our ride was there to pick us up, help wrangle the luggage and whisk us off to the boatyard. Note: Thanks to Mike Fiedler! Next time we have a layover in Fort Lauderdale, we'll head to Lester's Diner instead of taking out a mortgage for crappy airport food!

Cups was a sight for these tired, sore eyes. She was covered in dust and dirt, but otherwise looked to be in good condition and perhaps happy to see us. We gave her a quick once-over then, driving our short-term rental car, we retired to Tammy's, a local B&B that the cruisers favor. We had been up a total of 36 hours straight. Marcie took short naps on the plane, but David's not a plane-napper, so by the time we finally arrived, we were both exhausted and sleepy. We managed to stay up until 8:30pm and then, after a hot shower, collapsed into bed for a comatose night's sleep … until about 3am.

Tammy fixed a great, full breakfast and sent us on our way before 8am. The traffic in Trini is horrendous, but we made the trip along the winding West Main Highway in about 20 minutes. We hauled up the duffels and suitcases and began the process of trying to get settled in. Cups was in a shambles in a matter of minutes, but first things first. It averages about 90-95F with high humidity here each day and seeing about an air-con seemed like a really good idea. David ordered a rental unit, then pondered how he'd get it up the ladder and install it. No worries … the workmen showed up about 20 minutes later with the air-con unit on a forklift. They'd done this once or twice before, it seems. They installed the air-con unit over a hatch using a baffled plenum. They sealed all the gaps and in minutes we cooled down to a comfortable level. Now, we could work!

David had painted several galley lockers before we left. He re-installed shelves and hardware as Marcie began the duffel unpacking and stowing. It was a slow process since the settees were full of locker gear which also needed stowing. By 11 am, we were making some progress and it was time for a cuppa.

At first glance, all was good aboard Cups, but as we looked around, a few things came to our notice. Like the tea kettle wouldn't whistle or pour, for instance. The little ball that whistles and allows me to pour was stuck. David fixed it, put the repair item on his list and immediately crossed it off. “One thing done!” he boasted. Then, we noticed the clock wasn't working. No fix for it; the works are kaput. The biggie? The fridge isn't working and this will take some time to evaluate and determine a fix. Sigh!

The varnish is in rough shape and needs redoing. No surprise … add it to the list. There are already some sizable tasks on the list … replace the cutlass bearing which requires removing the prop shaft; replace the shaft seal; replace the engine room thru-hull. Not to mention anti-fouling the bottom and all the usual annual maintenance chores. And that's all we noticed in our first afternoon aboard. What other insidious gremlins are waiting for us?

We're back and demanding mistress that she is, Nine of Cups is commanding our attention (and she shall have it!).

#TBT - Happy Birthday, Jelly

Jelly was aboard Nine of Cups as our ship's cat for eight years and a good ship's cat she was. She kept seagulls off the boat (unless they were too big and scary). She kept rats off the boat (at least we never saw any). She liked to snag moths and small birds and bring them down below to us.

She liked to fish with David. No matter where she was on the boat, the minute David took out the fishing gear, she was there.

She fell overboard three times, always while we were in port. Twice she clambered out of the water herself, but one time she was saved by a Canadian sailor, to whom she was always grateful:

Jelly’s Hero

It was May and we were docked at the Charleston Maritime Center. Jelly, our year old sea cat, had the run of the place. Everyone knew her and she roamed at liberty along the wharf, jumping on this boat or that one for a visit, a nap or a snack.

A large, seagoing freight schooner, Aventuur, had just tied up at the end of the dock the day before and we had made the acquaintance of the three-man crew, offering them a beer and a chat. They had just sailed from Surinam with a hold full of angelique wood that was destined to be used for the keel of a new tallship, “Spirit of Carolina”. The Canadian crew was full of adventurous talk of the high seas, exotic places and their homes and we were all ears. Jelly rubbed against our feet and listened intently.

We headed off to the library the next day and upon our return, Andy, mate on the Aventuur, told us Jelly had been chased off the wharf by a couple of dogs and had nearly drowned. He plucked her out at the last minute, but she had gotten away and run back to our boat before he could determine if she was okay. We clambered aboard to find a wet, bedraggled cat lying in the middle of our bed. She was a pitiful sight. Her gray and white fur was all matted down with dirty salt water, making her look tiny and helpless. Our usually quiet cat was all chatter, mewing on and on about her terrible misadventure with the vicious hounds, her flow interrupted only with heaves of salt water. We bathed and comforted her like a sick child and she recovered without any emotional or physical trauma that we could assess. Aventuur left early the next morning before we could say goodbye or properly thank Andy.

We, too, left Charleston within a few days heading North to New England for the summer with no definite plans for ports of call in mind. Once we docked in Mystic, Connecticut, we dug out the charts to determine exactly where we’d go next. Farther North and farther East sounded good. We had visited Maine the summer before and loved it and so we thought we’d venture beyond Mt. Desert Island this summer and really experience Downeast Maine. Perhaps, even Canada… Nova Scotia and where was Aventuur from? New Brunswick…how far was that?

Three weeks later we edged our way across the Bay of Fundy and picked up a mooring off the docks at St. Andrews-by-the-Sea, New Brunswick. The dockmaster, Beebe, met us and gave us a hearty welcome.

“Are you familiar with the schooner, Aventuur?” we asked. “Sure…they’re out now; be here in a few weeks, I’d guess”. We were disappointed. We’d come with a thought way in the back of our minds that maybe we’d run into Andy, but we knew it would be a long shot. We didn’t even know his last name.

Off we went into town, anxious to explore and scope out our new surroundings and catch up on the unpleasant aspects of cruising like doing mounds of dirty laundry. The local laundromat was next to the internet café and we headed there first. As I was pulling wet clothes out of the washer, a dark bearded young man caught my eye. I had only known Andy for two days and chatted with him rather briefly, but could it be?

“Are you Andy?” I ventured warily. “Yes”, he hesitated, then added “and you look vaguely familiar.” “I’m Marcie from the Nine of Cups. We met in Charleston. You saved my …”. “Cat”, he completed my sentence with surprise showing on his face.

“Yes…Jelly is her name. We never thanked you properly. Come meet my husband, David, he’s next door and we’ll go for a beer.” “No, I can’t. I’m doing laundry and need to get back to work. I’m working at a pizza parlor for the summer.”

An older man who had been eavesdropping on our rather loud conversation, interjected. “When a pretty lady asks you to go for a beer…never say no!”

We all laughed and Andy came with me to find David. David looked at me expectantly with an eye on the young man I had in tow.

“THIS is Andy!” I crowed triumphantly.

We talked for a few minutes, but he was adamant we couldn’t buy him a beer or lunch. He had to get back to work. I hugged him goodbye, but as I watched him walk away, I felt a tinge of remorse that we still hadn’t suitably thanked him for his act of heroism. How do you thank a 23 year old that doesn’t want to be thanked? We decided to buy him a 6-pack of Molson and drop it off at his workplace with a note from Jelly.

Thank you note and brown paper bag with beer in hand, we found the pizza joint and asked if Andy was there. The young girl at the counter eyed us suspiciously, “Yes, he’s in the kitchen. Who can I tell him wants to see him?” “We’re David & Marcie…we met Andy in Charleston and …”, I had intended to blurt out the whole story, but she cut me short.

“Oh, you’re the people. He saved your cat!” she was glowing with pride. “Let me get him.” “Andy, the cat people are here”, she hollered back to the kitchen. Out walked Andy, outfitted in cut-off shorts, t-shirt and pizza-stained apron. “Hey, you guys. What are you doing here?” “These are the cat people I told you about,” he added as an aside to the assembled group of coworkers.

“Jelly really wanted to say thanks and since we couldn’t take you out for a beer, we thought we’d bring one to you.” His face reddened, but he gratefully took the beer and note. “Thanks to Jelly, too! See you again sometime.”

The world’s a big place, but you can always find a hero if you’re looking.

She had a full and adventurous life and had her humans trained well. What cat could ask for more?

Jelly went to cat heaven back in 2014, but she's remembered fondly. Perhaps because we were around her all the time or perhaps because she was an especially cool cat, she'll always be considered the #1 cat in our family. Happy Birthday, Jells!