6 Feb: Now for Now
Traditional sailing workboat in the Grenada Sailing Week
The classic sailing workboat was talking to me by showing its bright freeboard. “Leon, take Now for Now, and don’t worry so much about the future!”, the boat whispered, while it was pushed out into the waves by two local men taking part in the Grenada Sailing Week. This beautiful workboat with its bamboo rig was right. We should all learn not to ponder too much about the future.

Despite knowing better, I sometimes couldn’t stop my thoughts drift away, nevertheless, running past the present time into the future: I was anxiously thinking about what should come hereafter, after our present cruising adventure.
Launching boats for the Regatta
I knew too well I shouldn’t worry about tomorrow and just enjoy our current time in Grenada by watching the sailing regatta, for instance. It was a fantastic colorful experience to see all the villages and islands of Grenada racing one another. The start was a beach start, so the captain had to run from the beach into the water, where his crew was holding the boat into the waves, all jumping in at the same time setting off for the race course. The finish was similar, where the captain had to jump into the water, rushing up the beach to a finishing line. Some jumped too early and had to swim the rest, passed by his own boat! 1000 USD was given as price money for the winner and 500 USD for the second, a good price for a local event.
The beach start: Running to your boat and sail off as soon as everyone is onboard.
The race was hence taken seriously, just as I was taking our own future seriously. I was thinking about jobs, challenges, the family, school as well as home-water holiday sailing and tried to put this into perspective to our current freedom of blue water cruising.
Crew running to their boats to start.
Boats at the Grenada Sailing Week. Photo by Jessica.
I wondered for how long we should and could continue to live this yachting lifestyle together with our children. Our plan was to return this coming summer to Europe. One year ought to be a reasonable time off in life for a sabbatical, we reckoned. Having already sailed for more than 8 months, we understood that this meant there were just six months left of our cruising year. We had already passed our mid-term and I was pondering about the future.
Was I complaining that we “just” had six months left of sailing? Who wouldn’t be happy to have six full weeks of sailing during their vacations?

To avoid any misunderstandings, it was not the time frame that was the issue. It was more that I wondered what land-life would feel like after having cruised for this long? We knew what we had right now, but we didn’t quite know what a life ashore exactly meant any longer. Had we forgotten, or did we no longer want to know its details?
Wasn’t this remarkable? Before our cruise, we had endless discussions and fear for leaving our secure and well organized life style ashore, being afraid to exchange the known with the uncertainty of cruising. The threshold was the same, we were just regarding it from the opposite side! And from the ocean bank, the doorstep back into confined land-life looked even bigger and more challenging!

Would we ever be able to adopt the objects of the established life again? Would we be able to find a job that was satisfactory, leaving enough freedom to decide over our own lives and wills?

The other day, when I was fetching a new T-shirt, I was starring at my fleece sweaters, which were placed in the same cupboard. I wondered why one ever would want to put on these thick garments voluntarily and I even remembered having to put on a coat on top of it! My feet would wear socks and then had to be squeezed into totally enclosed and uncomfortable shoes, where I would no longer be able to wiggle my toes. Even more frightening was the thought to have a tie knotted around my neck. The worst garment would, however, be found around my left wrist: a watch, always ready to remind me of the fact that I was running late for whatever I was doing, yelling at me to speed up, taking no respect of the situation I was in, like if I was sitting in a traffic jam on a busy high-way.
When the cruise is over, would I forget about all I learnt in the Caribbean about Island Time and its laid back attitude towards rushing and stressing?

Shore life could, for sure, look frightening, I thought. Just think of how a normal day for a normal family like us would start: An alarm clock would be ringing in the dark, shaking you out of your sweetest dreams, urging you to get up the remaining family to have breakfast within a certain time frame. Again, that watch chasing me!

Would I forget how it is to wake up in the fore peak of Regina shortly after sunrise? Would I remember the open hatch above me? Fresh air falling down from the opening above, a blue sky greeting me to a new sunny day? Will I ever be able to forget how a tropical morning feels?

Will I still be able to picture myself with my morning coffee in my hand, sitting in the cockpit looking out over a beautiful bay with boats anchored around in a turquoise sea? Certainly, I would, instead, be grabbing a quick coffee at a kitchen table before urging our kids to school and me to a job, always with one eye on my watch.
What if any of us would regret leaving the bright colors of the tropics? Will we then start dreaming about returning to a cruising life style again or will we adapt to the urban life-style ashore? I didn’t even know what I should hope for?

Bringing our cruising year to an end seemed suddenly no less risky than commencing it!

I looked at the sailing boat with the appropriate name “Now for Now" again. She was right: worrying about the future was the least we should do with still six months of sailing ahead. And yet, this was the major topic among yachties for the time being.
Rasta-hats for sale in StGeorge's, Grenada
Every afternoon, at five o’clock, we met for the Happy Hour in the True Blue Bay Resort bar. More and more yachts joined, and soon our "board meeting", as we called it, was extended to half a dozen boats every night, discussing a suitable time frame to sail back home – or possibly not to. Some of our friends thought that the “one-year-plan” was more than enough, others felt that bringing the boat here was the big task, and that they now easily could get to the Caribbean and their boat by plane. Yet others talked about living on the boat during the hurricane season, for instance in Venezuela, learning Spanish during that time, others talked about sailing to Maine and Canada during hurricane season.
Happy Hour at the bar of True Blue Bay Resort, which we called our daily "board meeting"
We all agreed that this true and straight forward life-style was in no way a vacation. We had exchanged one full time job for another, it was just the question which job was preferred and would allow us to afford our living. Yet, leaving the tropical cruising meant giving up a life we all had put a lot of effort in - and enjoyed!
The climate was pleasant down here, the life style uncomplicated, yet in some means laborious. Easy tasks, like grocery shopping, laundry, spare part hunting or boat repair could take up several days of hard work. Yet, the colors of the tropics were sparkling: clear orange, deep blue, beautiful turquoise, shining yellow and thrilling red in a wonderful mix. Our memories of winters at home seemed grey in comparison, with people dressing equally dark or pale in grey or brown colors.
Karolina at the "board meeting". Will this body ever be acclimatized to a temperate climate again?
Someone at our daily “board meeting” for Happy Hour pointed out that going back to shore-life would mean vacation in many aspects. She claimed she really needed “time off” from cruising for a while. Home-schooling was one of the most challenging and time-consuming parts of our lives right now, everyone with children onboard agreed. From that perspective, it would be a relief to hand ones children to a professional school. At least for a couple of hours every day. This time would be used to perform tasks by or for oneself instead of having to get the entire family involved into the “project” each time. I would, for instance, appreciate some time off for writing or picture editing, something I usually have to do when everyone else onboard has turned in.

I guess the difference to living ashore is that land-life tells you when to be parted from your family, e.g. during school or office hours. While cruising, getting some own time to either do a job or just getting away from the confined space onboard has to be organized. You can’t just “sneak out a minute”, especially not, while you’re at anchor and every walk away from the boat becomes a shore excursion with the dinghy. “Where’s Mom?!” is being heard the minute mother disappears out of sight, even if she has just gone into the stern cabin to bring back an item to its place. If Mom is going ashore to pick up the laundry, there is an immediate request by some kid to come as well and “help”. It’s a wonderful way to spend time together with your family, but from time to time it can become somewhat intense.
One of the wonderful moments to cruise with children: Here Jonathan and Rachael from Koshlong having fun in a palm-tree haning over the beach.
However, sometimes, some few moments by oneself would be quite appreciated (all kids behind the camera to allow this shot to look lonely)
Further into our “board meeting” we started to dream about how we all would do it “next time” and discussed how cruising would become different when we’d sail without children one day, possibly. We tried to figure out what a cruising couple without children actually do all day long, anyway.

“Next time”, we said, we would spend more time in Galicia, Spain. And then head for Madeira, from where we would go straight to the western isles of the Canaries, especially La Gomera, which we liked so much. Others said that Graciosa was the greatest island in the Canaries, which must not be left out next time either. “Next time”, we reckoned, we would stop in Cap Verde and make landfall in Barbados, staying only a short while in the Caribbean, since we would already have seen most of it in 2005/6. Instead, we could continue to Venezuela, Los Roques in particular, and proceed to San Blas in Panama. Cuba, some put into the discussion, was most interesting, while others were talking about Costa Rica, Mexico and Belize. Or why not go through the Panama-Canal to the South Pacific, “next time”?

The later the Happy Hour got, the better became the ideas regarding “next time”, but to decide what to do for now was so much more difficult.

The best decision at that night’s board meeting was not taken until the end of the Happy Hour, i.e. just after six o’clock. The sun had already began to set and we were just about to break up from our deep discussions to prepare dinner in our corresponding boats, when we finally all agreed to take the decision not plan so much and, instead, take Now for Now and primarily enjoy our current situation.

It was as if the racing workboat from earlier that morning was talking to me again! Why worry? We don’t know what lies in the future, anyway! I suddenly thought of all the people here in Grenada, who had survived Ivan, the hurricane, one and a half year ago in September 2004. During 5 hours, Ivan destroyed what men had built during 5 hurricane-free decades on Grenada. In five hours the island changed without anyone having the slightest influence on the procedure. Worrying about the future did not help then. Instead, they started all over again.
Once a fancy resort in Grand Anse, St George's. Since Ivan, only the structure remains.
95% of all roofs were ripped off by Ivan. Not all houses have yet been restored. Photo by Jessica.
It was impressive to see with which eagerness houses were re-built getting back to normal as quickly as possible. Shining new roofs were seen adjacent to still totally destroyed houses, where especially the churches didn’t seem to find enough money to repair theirs. 95% of all roofs were ripped off by Ivan and not a leaf was left on the trees. Seeing the island right after Ivan, some were said to have believed that the time for Grenada was over. It must have taken a lot of courage and strength to jointly re-build the entire island to its current condition. Worrying had not helped. Instead, the Grenadians acted.
Shining new roofs overlooking St Georges, Grenada. Almost all buildings have new roofs and have been rebuilt after Ivan. Photo by Jessica.
Most churches are still roof-less, however, and it will take quite a while until also they are restored. Photo by Jessica.
The building industry seemed to flourish with current lack of workforce on the island. Land-prices had doubled during a short period of time and both locals as well as foreign people seem not to fear another hurricane striking the island within the near future buying land and building houses.
One pleasant encounter was our visit to the local Grenada Chocolate Company which, from an industrial point of view, was tiny.
Chocolate production in process. The smell was irresistable!
Yet, it produced the finest 60% an 71% chocolate, organically produced with cocoa beans grown nearby. Nothing but vanilla, sugar and cocoa butter was added, with the Chocolate factory never being able to produce as much as they could sell. Needless to say, we belonged to their customers.
Edmund of the Chocolate Company proudly explaining how chocolate is being made in general and why their chocolate is so tasty in particular.
Going a long way into the bushes to get a good picture of cocoa beans. Both photos taken by Jessica, however, who succeeded to get a better shot nevertheless.
Spice Island Marina, which suffered heavily in the hurricane Ivan, was totally restored by now, so we took the opportunity to haul out Regina to get two new coats of antifouling, polish and wax her hull, get her propeller shiny again and changing the anodes. They did a very good job, taking good care of Regina and worked professionally getting all done within three days, including a primar coat in between the old and new antifouling.
Regina getting a good treatment at Spice Island Marina, Prickley Bay, Grenada.
Grenada will have us stay for some more time, since we have fallen in love with the island and its friendly people, who seamed not to worry about neither the next hurricane nor for the future in general, trusting that it will work out in one or the other way.

We hence take Now for Now, enjoy Grenada and postpone thoughts about our lives after the cruise until later, some time.
Leon taking Now for Now, postponing pondering until some other time. Photo by Jessica.