Coffee and Oleboulin
Every morning around seven thirty the buzz of diesel engines grows steadily from a hum to a roar as the sun peaks over the green hills to the east. The boat starts swaying, then rocking and bobbing wildly as waves slam the transom and the halyards tango with the masts. The faded periwinkle ferry from St. Thomas is my alarm clock. Most of the time, I pry open my eyes to another bright blue sky day, pelicans and seagulls swooping in for breakfast all around. Occasionally the morning sun is obscured by dark gray rain clouds, but they pass soon enough and leave shimmering beads of rain on the newly re-varnished teak. After ignoring the subsequent wails from my watch alarm, I roll out of my bunk and put my bikini on for another day of work in the islands.
On Christmas Eve, soon after Matt spotted land from 40 miles off, we attacked a huge meal of Tofurky and Beef Tenderloin with all the fixings. As the pumpkin pie and apple cake made their way into our bellies, we crossed the international waters line. We wound our way through the US and British Virgin Islands and the anticipation grew as familiar sights, smells and sounds drifted our way. Like the strangely comforting odor of burning plastic from the incinerator plant in Pockwood Pond. Toxins wafting through the air takes me back to traveling through India and Mexico, and now also reminds me of long drives back to the boat after a night out in Roadtown with friends. The lights on the hills of Frenchman’s Cay became distinct, Christmas lights twinkling red and blue, and the ironic words “Silver bells, silver bells, it’s Christmas time, in the City…” sung with a lilting Caribbean accent wafted from the Jolly Roger Inn. I swung the boat hook over the bow to pick up our mooring ball line, and simultaneously heard, “Welcome back! Merry Christmas!” from the house on the hill above the mooring from a couple we had Christmas dinner with last year, just as my hand found a bottle at the end of our line. I was confused at first, a little pissed even, wondering why the heck someone tied an empty wine bottle to our mooring ball. Then I realized not only was it full, but full of Champagne! Another friend had hidden our welcoming gift in the not so chilly water. Nothing a bit of time in our ice maker couldn’t cure! As we settled on the ball and into the evening, drinks were passed around, as were congratulations on a fine delivery from the Chesapeake.
Christmas was a bit of a work day with checking into the country and tidying up the passage cluttered boat, but we ended the holiday by toasting mimosas on the balcony of a friends house overlooking the twinkling lights of Jost Van Dyke and our recent path through the Atlantic.
And, of course, Boxing Day. J was in the dinghy, bailing water from the previous night’s rain. He looked up and found Will’s grinning face just above the surface of the water. Will and Reneer, friends from last season, paddled out on their surfboards with a carafe of coffee and homemade Dutch fritters in a Ziploc bag. We sat in the cockpit with our friends, sipping coffee and munching on treats, lingering longer than we would have had we still been up north. Everyone was busy, or had stuff they had to catch up on; we had the boat to clean and prepare for guests, Debbie and Matt had to get back to their jobs after months away, Ian and Rachel were eager to tidy up their cabin and explore, Will and Reneer had a day off from their full time jobs to enjoy, but we sat and lingered in conversation, appreciating the stunning view and the magnificent concept of island time.
On Christmas Eve, soon after Matt spotted land from 40 miles off, we attacked a huge meal of Tofurky and Beef Tenderloin with all the fixings. As the pumpkin pie and apple cake made their way into our bellies, we crossed the international waters line. We wound our way through the US and British Virgin Islands and the anticipation grew as familiar sights, smells and sounds drifted our way. Like the strangely comforting odor of burning plastic from the incinerator plant in Pockwood Pond. Toxins wafting through the air takes me back to traveling through India and Mexico, and now also reminds me of long drives back to the boat after a night out in Roadtown with friends. The lights on the hills of Frenchman’s Cay became distinct, Christmas lights twinkling red and blue, and the ironic words “Silver bells, silver bells, it’s Christmas time, in the City…” sung with a lilting Caribbean accent wafted from the Jolly Roger Inn. I swung the boat hook over the bow to pick up our mooring ball line, and simultaneously heard, “Welcome back! Merry Christmas!” from the house on the hill above the mooring from a couple we had Christmas dinner with last year, just as my hand found a bottle at the end of our line. I was confused at first, a little pissed even, wondering why the heck someone tied an empty wine bottle to our mooring ball. Then I realized not only was it full, but full of Champagne! Another friend had hidden our welcoming gift in the not so chilly water. Nothing a bit of time in our ice maker couldn’t cure! As we settled on the ball and into the evening, drinks were passed around, as were congratulations on a fine delivery from the Chesapeake.
Christmas was a bit of a work day with checking into the country and tidying up the passage cluttered boat, but we ended the holiday by toasting mimosas on the balcony of a friends house overlooking the twinkling lights of Jost Van Dyke and our recent path through the Atlantic.
And, of course, Boxing Day. J was in the dinghy, bailing water from the previous night’s rain. He looked up and found Will’s grinning face just above the surface of the water. Will and Reneer, friends from last season, paddled out on their surfboards with a carafe of coffee and homemade Dutch fritters in a Ziploc bag. We sat in the cockpit with our friends, sipping coffee and munching on treats, lingering longer than we would have had we still been up north. Everyone was busy, or had stuff they had to catch up on; we had the boat to clean and prepare for guests, Debbie and Matt had to get back to their jobs after months away, Ian and Rachel were eager to tidy up their cabin and explore, Will and Reneer had a day off from their full time jobs to enjoy, but we sat and lingered in conversation, appreciating the stunning view and the magnificent concept of island time.
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