St George’s: New Island, Old Friends

Standard disclaimer: as of Nov 1, Grenada has 4 active COVID cases, zero community spread. Remember you can click on photos for a larger view.

We sailed out of Carriacou with a light wind from mostly behind us, the perfect conditions to finally fly the spinnaker we’d built in the DR, just over a year ago. It took a little while to get it set up, but once we did, we flew down between the islands. We’d make some minor changes to how we rigged it for next time, but the broad strokes worked out nicely, and it was really satisfying to see that project paying off.

We stopped at the northern end of Grand Mal Bay, and since we were still a little unclear on the rules for anchoring (is the whole coast a protected area?), we grabbed a mooring ball in 80 feet(!) of water. This is too deep to really dive and check, but we figured that with the forecast calling for almost no wind, we would be fine. So we settled in to watch the distant squalls blow around.

Captain did his usual thing, watching the birds and making sure all the little spaces were safe.

We continued down the coast to St George’s, nominally the quarantine anchorage, but also the only anchorage on the west coast of the island. Our friends assured us that there were only two boats in quarantine, and that the other 30 or so there were not getting hassled. We ended up staying about a week, and nobody seemed to mind. Mostly we spent that time letting Jazz recover from her Dengue, and trying to finish the leftover projects from Carriacou. Oh, and of course, meeting up with our friends. We spent Saturday at a yacht club barbecue at Le Phare Blue, and “Sunday Funday” watching an excellent live band at Aquarium. Of course, with Jazz reeling with Dengue, we barely managed to get any pictures, except for this lovely topiary inside the restaurant facing the beach. Turtles!

On Monday, we dinghied into St George’s to explore. We carried masks, of course, thinking they were required in buildings, but we were stopped almost immediately by a peace officer who told us that they’re required in all public spaces.

Our first stop was the Grenada Museum, but it was closed, so all we got to see was the plaque outside. The “chocolate museum” around the corner was open, though — and sold us some fancy new masks and hats. More importantly, so was the hilltop church, which sported a view of the fort on the adjacent hill, as well as a bulletin board with (I thought) a hilariously diverse set of postings. We are not religious, but Jazz always lights a candle for her grandparents, who were.

Across town, said fort is also accepting visitors. There’s not much in the way of an interior, as it’s apparently still in use as a police training facility, but the view from the ramparts is excellent.

A couple of other fun things from around town: an unexpected knit-bomb, a long list of requirements to enter, and a souvenir for Captain. When the rain started, we ducked into a tiny local restaurant (I didn’t have to stoop, but it was close), and I had a delicious roti while Jazz looked at her delicious soup, still too dengue to eat much of it. Three different locals approached, disturbed, to ask what was wrong with the food and then express dengue condolences.

And, as we got back to the boat, we got a nice little rainbow.

The next day, we met up with the crews of Kraken and Dorothy Rose, and hiked to the Seven Sisters waterfall. This was a lovely, if quite muddy, hike through some lush jungle, with a nice refreshing swim as a reward. Though we were a little disappointed to find the hilltop bar closed.

The nice thing about the St George’s anchorage is that you’re close to things, so we bought food, and visited the spa to get our toenails upgraded, all in between pretty sunsets.

And Jazz went for a ladies spa day, leaving me at home for some much-needed peace and quiet.

US$105 each got them breakfast and lunch, an hour massage, and an open bar at the pool from 9 to 6. Unsurprisingly, Jazz came home and “fell asleep” before 7, and we had to go back to collect her bikini the next day. (She left it in the shower, because my wife is a devoted acolyte of the drunken shower.)

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