Spring 2023
By Bob Kowalski
A few years back I was in Granada sitting out the hurricane season. It’s sort of the center of where people that live on boats go that time of year, there’s a big community of like-minded people there. Granada is the friendliest place in the world; it’s not out of the ordinary that you’ll be sitting at a bus stop and someone driving by stops and offers you a lift.
So, it was a Wednesday morning and the fish market in St. George was open and I’m running low on Cubans – time to venture out. I hop in the dingy and putter out to the landing. With my backpack over my shoulder, I walk up the landing and set myself down on the bench in front of the bar where I know those little Toyota minivans that cart you to town for a buck.
There’s no schedule, they are infrequent and you can sit a long time. I’m sittin’ there a bit and down the hill comes this rusted old thing a sputtering and spewing smoke with this grey-haired maven behind the wheel to where she brings her steed to a screeching halt before me, and I hear “Oy mate need a lift to town?”
With a nod I obliged and walked over, gingerly grabbing the handle of the vehicle’s door, not knowing if the rusted thing would fall off its hinges. Thankfully it held.
The interesting thing was her accent. I knew the “Oy” and “mate” had inflection of either Australian, or, most likely, New Zealand, but there was something else. I have to say it was the most interesting accent I’d ever heard. I had to ask.
She informed me she was Polish, that her man was Italian and that he had taught her English, which he had learned in New Zealand.
Then we got side-tracked: she had to dodge a goat or two while driving up the forty-five degree grade. We veered off-topic; talking about local events, seeing as Emancipation Day was on the horizon. This kicks off a carnival which is pretty much the combination of the biggest frat/tail gate party imaginable. Then she told me she had to pick up her man, and after noticing my hands, how Granada had a big shortage of skilled labor if I were looking for work.
Have you ever been to any of the volcanic islands in the Caribbean? Done any exploring?
If not, then let me tell you, down there the roads are steep and there is no such word as switch back. Brakes and clutches are the biggest topic when discussing cars. The most courageous thing I have done was that white knuckle ride down that cliff to the waterfront, and baby I was a Marine!
But we made it unscathed, pulling into the waterfront earthen parking lot trailing a cloud of dust. There stood a burly man with wavy, gray-frosted black hair, thick shoulders, and large work worn hands. I moved to the back seat as he greeted me with an equally intriguing accent of “good day” and a fist bump.
Once he settled in and the seat stopped its resistance, letting out several creaks and squeaks, I had to ask, “how’d you guys meet?”
That’s when he proceeded to tell me their tale.
He said he was doing a circumnavigation some thirty five years ago on a forty-foot ketch. He had landed in Cape Town, South Africa and was sitting in a rum shack one night when she walked in.
He told me how they locked eyes and how they’ve never been apart since.
He went on to say neither knew the other’s language and within a week’s time they were so connected he asked her to sail to the Caribbean with him.
I was sitting back there taking this all in. My eyes were trained on the rear-view mirror trying to see her emotion. I could see a little crooked smile of remembrance with a bit of a raised brow on her face.
That’s where she chimed in, told me how half the time, they didn’t know what the other was saying but were both good at the skill of mime we travelers get in those lands where we don’t know the tongue. Then she gave him a punch in the shoulder, and said “look at this hunk of a bloke; how could I not go with him.”
She told how she agreed to it not fully understanding it was a three-month journey, her only demand is he had to teach her English. I have no clue how they accomplished that.
Then they both sang their songs of gales and storms, the anguish of dead calms, the agony of not being able to communicate. I wish I could describe the earnestness I witnessed in their eyes when they looked at one another, her brushing the back of a hand to his cheek, him giving a loving slap on the knee. It all coming to an emotional all teary eye conclusion of her saying “ignorance is bliss.”
Now I’m not admitting that, that story has anything with me coming back here buying a 44-foot boat and heading out on a single-handed circumnavigation. But I can say I hope you all find that great and deep of a connection for yourselves.
Bob Kowalski of Tiverton, R.I., refers to himself as a “diagnosed artist type with no ambition.” He’s sailed all his life and is currently preparing his newest boat for a circumnavigation.
