When I woke up the next morning I was so relieved that Leigh and Misty would not have to ship my body back home I practically levitated off the deck. Then I realized Carriacou was our last island before returning to Grenada and the end of the cruise. Devastation!! I resolved to capture every moment from now until the cruise ends. I signed us up for the motor tour of Carriacou and packed 25 floppies for the digi. Rusty had on her clipboard a paper detailing Carriacou and its history and scenic points. Rusty, in the morning briefing, told how Carriacou and Grenada are still recovering from a hurricane and Fidel Castro. They are so far south that the tourist business is still sparse. The islanders would be glad to help us and the island would be a beautiful one to tour. You could tell that this was the last full day as there was something of a sombre mood amongst us passengers. Moost of us did sign up for the motor tour around the island. I think we had 5 of those ubiquitous “mountain goat“ toyota vans. As I set here writing this account I stricken with a terrible longing to meet the other passengers again.  I must apologize for all the unexplained flower pictures I have subjected you too. Everywhere I looked there were an abundance of flowers. Many of them looked very much like those we grow in Houston. Except their counterparts were dead in Houston in the fall and here they were in vigorous health. In fact I saw many Poinsettias Trees of obvious advanced age. Most of the flowers though were unknown to me but I did enjoy them.  The name Carriacou means “land of many reefs” and it certainly seems true. Every turn opened new vista of reefs and beaches around the Island. I had not seen the Atlantic Ocean from any of the other Islands. Here we had stunning vista looking out into the Atlantic. I finally understood why the Spanish sailors moved into the Americas where they did. The prevailing winds from Iberia would have carried them to the Grenadines. One picture shows the water at a beach where we turned to go to the airport. The water is mind-boggling. It seems clearer than drinking water. Only here had I seen sea weed. I think the approaches to the other islands were too steep to afford a growth site for sea weed. We actually drove out onto the runway. The airplane is small and is used as a taxi for emergency or necessary quick trips. The hopital is ill equipped for any serious injury or ailment. Consequently the plane is kept handy for emergency trips to carry the injured or ill to Grenada. The “mountain goats” wound around the incredibly narrow and torturous roads up to the highest occupied point of the island where the hospital is sited. The hospital is on the mountain top to get the patients away from the mosquitos. The unceasing sea breeze keeps them blown away. While we were at the hospital we heard a small child crying and crying and crying. I also think we heard the sound of a newborn crying. There was a cannon mounted in front of the hospital overlooking the city and the harbor where we were anchored. The tour guide told us that the cannon was from a different island and that in fact had no history of military involvment. But it did make a great photographic stage.  Misty wore that visor everywhere and made it almost impossible to get a good picture of her face. When I lightened the image to bring out Misty’s face Leigh was almost washed out. So I tried to compromise. Of all the pictures I took I believe this one is my favorite. I am willing to bet they are two of the most beautiful daughters on Earth. We wound our way back down to the town. On the way we passed a state school where the kids were playing “Red Rover”. Their voices were clear as a bell with that so exotic and characteristic British island lilt. The people look poor but maybe that is just a fat American’s viewpoint. We toured a place where wooden boats are handmade one at a time. Apparently time has a whole other dimension there. I saw a half dozen in various stages of construction. Some looked like they had been in progress for years. None of the planks or timbers were the same size. All the wood is sawed and carved by hand to fit the planned boat. None of the boats we saw had actual drawings. The owner/builder had the plans in their mind. They are used for fishing and etc. Everywhere we looked we saw awesome Conch shells. The colors were so grand. I don’t understand why they cannot be brought into the US. After a complete tour of the island we walked around in the city. Leigh and Misty were looking for phones to call their husbands. The phone company would not let Leigh into the building. So we had to hang around outside waiting for Dutch people to call everybody in Europe. While they were on the phone I looked at some of the pictures by the island “artist“. Talk about a scam. The inbred pretentious art experts are totally sucked in by the guy. My grandkids paint with more understanding and talent. And they do it for free. This guy gets hundreds of dollars for stuff I wouldn’t hang on my refrigerator. I found the post office to mail some postcards. The stamps I bought on Bequia were not valid on Carriacou so I had to go to the revenue office to buy stamps then back to the post office to post them. Supreme inefficiency! Finally after the three of us getting lost from one another multiple times we reassembled and caught the launch back to the Yankee Clipper. I napped and sort of waited for the evening sail. Around about snack time the crew came on deck started raising the sails. Normally only a few of the passengers would help take part in the sail raising. This evening though about half the men and women lent a hand in hauling the sails. They all got a working lesson in sailing terminology. Sounded so nautical and mysterious. Then I discovered each sail was marked on a lower corner with its name. Every rope also has a name but that was left to the crew. They just told the passengers which rope to pull. The crew and passengers would haul line until the slides would get hung then the mate or a senior crew would jiggle things until the jam was freed. Captain Neil kept a close eye on the yards as he wanted a trouble free last trip. You could sense the passengers paying particular attention to everything. Storing memories. I know I shall never be the same.  After the captain was satisfied that we were properly underway he took part in the evening snack. I watched him mingling and saw him talk to every passenger on deck that evening. I suppose he has forever changed my image of Scotsman. I had them pegged as dour engineers. Not as bawdy sailors. Just as the light was failing passengers and crew gathered topside. The crew and officers gathered around the main mast for us to take their pictures. Then we handed over our cameras and gathered around the mast. The crew took our pictures. That was a truly nice touch. Normally a group photo is missing the photographer. Every snack on the cruise had fried coconut. As I said earlier, coconut is prepared in the islands while the shell is still soft. I never did learn to like the fried stuff. Way too hard for my teeth to chew. My very favorite sauce for cold cuts and other such snack was called “Flambe”. Hotter than mesquite charcoal but without the bitterness of truly spirited jalapenos. Despite my promise at Mayreau to avoid demon rum I did, with great gusto, imbibe mightily of the rum swizzles. I am about half convinced the only reason God put those little islands in the midst of the waters is to have a place to make rum in all its variety.  I noticed that the crew assembled first according to rank. The second and first mates did not appear until the others were in order. Then came Rusty for several rounds of pictures. Finally Captain took his place. And sure enough it was in the photographically dominant position.  Writing of this last day on the Yankee Clipper has filled me with such sadness that I am having a hard time continuing. My only regret is that my mate Caro could not make the trip. She would not have been able to participate in any of the ship board activities. The islands are not yet handicapped accessible. She has seen all the pictures and read all the accounts but those are poor substitutes. Next the flight back to Houston via Puerto Rico, Dallas, and Houston. Click for pictures about Carriacou Tour
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