Fourth of July 09 Beach Trip #6 The End

Friday, the sun woke us up to a bright and beautiful morning. Everyone was really ready to head for the beach cause this was our “last day”. You always have that day when you realize you have to go home tomorrow. How is it that a week at the beach seems to take forever to plan and get here and then is gone in a flash?

Everyone, including yours truly, rounded up all their stuff, and prepared to head for the beach. From every floor of the house came the sounds of greasing and spraying. I was heading down the stairs when I heard that unmistakable sound that is sort of a cross between a squirt and a splop. I rounded the corner to see my son and son in law dispensing large blobs of the dreaded white goo on themselves. Soon everyone was sufficiently SPFed, and we loaded all the beach gear in the back of the truck. The family walked down to the beach access, and I hauled the load of gear in the truck to my accustomed handicap parking space. This day we were early enough I didn’t even have to use the handicap space. I got a prime spot right beside the beach stairs. Everyone gathered up their load of “gear” and soon we were all installed in “a spot” on the beach. I was safely landed under my industrial strength umbrella, and had done a special rig that allowed the breeze to blow through the screen windows in my umbrella. (this is really a slick umbrella) I settled down with my book and some shade, my friends and family, and all was well with the universe.

We enjoyed the morning on the beach, and as lunchtime approached, we decided to adjourn to the house and then the boat. We reversed the process of beach landing, and hauled all the “gear” back to the house. We had a good lunch of tasty leftovers and some new veggie additions, and planned our afternoon. While we were eating lunch we got some good news: Vickie and I have been on the waiting list for the “dry stack” at Carolina Marina in North Carolina at Belews Lake. For those who don’t know a dry stack is a big building where they store your boat on big shelves and put it in the water when you want it. Well they had called and left a message on my cell phone that our slot had opened up. This was really cool since we were #20 on the waiting list this spring when we first asked them about getting in. It is a very nice facility, and the lake is pretty close to our house.

Vickie and Marian decided to go shopping. This left us with the perfect number for an afternoon of water sports. (thanks to Miss Vickie, but as she said, she could go boating anytime and thanks to Marian, she really didn’t want to go because of back pain) Tom, the boys and I headed out to launch the boat, and we told the girls we’d pick them up at the dock.

Well that was the plan, but when we got to the boat ramp, it seemed everyone in the general vicinity had the same idea. There was no place to park the truck and trailer. Well, I thought about it, and so I just dumped Wes IV, Tom, and Jon off with the boat, and told them I’d meet them at the dock. I took the truck back to the house, parked it, and joined the girls to meet them at the dock. All went pretty well, and soon we were out on the water. We headed upstream to the area where we had been the other day. Our intention was to let some of the folks ski. When we got up to where I thought we might pull someone, Jon got suited up and jumped overboard, turned out the water was waist deep, and he ended up standing in the ooze. We worked at trying to pull him, but the wind and current combined with the bumper-to-bumper boat traffic made it nearly impossible. We gave up on that, and put out the tube. Jon rode that and then Aylea. It was sort of like riding in the ocean however with all the boat wakes.

Finally I made an executive decision, and said let’s head downstream to the other end of the island and see if it is any calmer. Turned out it was much better. The swinging bridge at Sunset Beach only opens once per hour, so far fewer boats come that direction. We were able to get everyone a chance to tube, and we even anchored and swam a little. Even Tom got on the tube. I might not have mentioned it, but Tom is the Chief of Police in York County PA. I told the kids, “too bad I know him, this is just what I always wanted to do---drag a cop through the salt water at high speed on the end of a rope”. I told Tom later and we had a good chuckle over it.

While we were swimming, the bridge opened unexpectedly. We heard a great huge horn, and through came a barge, pushed by a tugboat, carrying a huge bridge girder. He proceeded upstream, and the little boats just had to get out of his way. It was surprising to see such a huge boat, but then I remembered that the Inter Costal Waterway is there for much more than recreation. It is a vital waterway for commerce on the East Coast. I could imagine what it must be like for that tug boat skipper threading his way up the channel with a bazillion rookie ICW boaters like me to contend with. Need to mention what a joy Greta was during this boating afternoon. She rode the boat, went in the water, watched mommie and daddy tubing, and generally had a big time. Very amazing behavior for a 2 year old.

As the afternoon came to a close all had recreated their fill, and we headed back to the dock. Tom and the boys dropped me and the girls off at the dock, and I went to fetch the trailer. I got the trailer and headed for the boat ramp. When I got there we had a giant traffic jam at the boat ramp. One lady couldn’t back up her trailer-this was quite comical to watch, as she almost backed it over the side of the ramp. Since it was only a jet-ski trailer, it ended up with a guy simply picking the trailer up to get it oriented properly as she backed it up. Then one guy’s boat was broken down and blocking the first launch, then while successfully avoiding a collision with the side of the boat launch, my son accidentally changed launches at the last minute, meaning that our boat was in the wrong slot for loading, and the guy in that slot was trying to back down to launch and couldn’t figure out what to do. My son didn't want to tempt fate and risk a mishap on his (otherwise uneventful) second time driving my new boat by moving it to the other launch, and the guy trying to launch didn't want to move to let us unload and get out of the way.

We were all sitting there in our trucks kind of looking at each other and I saw Tom talking with the guy that seemed to have terminal indecision. Low and behold everything started moving and all of a sudden, we all got straightened out. I found out later Tom had just “explained” to the guy he’d either have to move or sit there forever, despite his protests about losing his place in line. I should note that Tom is a very easy-going, friendly guy, but in his position as a career police officer, he has gotten good at this sort of very persuasive "explaining" that gets the desired result without making everyone angry. We certainly appreciated him putting on his "chief" hat for a moment to sort everything out with a minimal amount of drama. We got the boat loaded and headed back to the house. Of course on the way back the tube blew out of the back of the boat on the road. Tom and Jon jumped in another vehicle and went back for it.

Everyone turned to, and we thoroughly scrubbed down the boat to get all the salt water and sand off it. Meanwhile the ladies managed to put together a great dinner from all the stuff left in the refrigerator, and we sat down to a great communal meal reliving all the great moments of the day, and sharing good times. A great end to a great week.

Soon after dinner, everyone once again turned to and we began packing, cleaning, and preparing for the exit on Saturday. All hands were on deck, and when everyone finally turned in for the night, we were the requisite number of hours away from departure in the morning.

Just to finish up, everyone got loaded up Saturday morning, and the leaving was uneventful. For us the traffic was relatively ok, no back ups but I-40 was pretty frantic.
Wes IV reported “we didn't really run into bad traffic until we hit 95 when 64, 295 and 95 all merge together above Richmond, where, just for good measure, it goes from 4 lanes to 3. The combined beach traffic made for a longish ride home. Very few dead stops, but a lot of time where you'd be motoring along at 65 and then all of the sudden it'd slow down to 30, then go back up to 65 or 70. As far as I can tell there were no accidents, and the root cause seemed to be that the VA State Police were doing an "admirable" job enforcing the speed limit, but what it was actually doing was causing a chain-reaction backup due to a combination of rubbernecking on flashy lights and standard "oh crap it's a cop (slam on the brakes)" halfway across VA. I counted no fewer than 6 traffic stops along that stretch. What should have taken us 6 hrs took closer to 7 with only one 30 min stop for lunch. Because we stopped fairly early on in the trip (about 11), that ended up being a nearly 5 hour nonstop stretch of driving for Tom and I - we were amazed that no one needed to stop, but VERY ready to be out of the car when we finally hit home.”

We had an unusual event while riding on I-40. This big lighted sign over the roadway said “SILVER ALERT CALL 511” So we dutifully called 511 and got to listen to 9 traffic messages none of which had any particular bearing on anything that had to do with anything. Still haven’t figured out what the “SILVER ALERT” was supposed to be. Perhaps it was an Al-Qaeda secret alert for terrorists. The forty bazillion people traveling I-40 all calling 511 at the same time allowed them to slip a message through the cell overload. Or maybe the cell companies paid North Carolina to do it to waste minutes. But anyhow everyone got home safe, and we are vowing to do it again.
More later,
Wes

Fourth of July 09 Beach Trip #5

Thursday morning dawned sort of cloudy and rainy looking. The forecast was iffy so we didn’t plan anything too involved. Some of the folks went to the beach after the sun did come out. But a little while later I looked up from my keyboard and it was pouring down rain with rain lashing against the sliding glass doors in the kitchen. I had used the morning and on into the afternoon as it turned out, to catch up on my writing and manage posting some photos to the web. Miss Vickie disappeared early in the morning to the beach, and never returned even through the rainstorm. She spent the day in pursuit of sharks’ teeth. She was rewarded for her day of labor with some prize finds.

Miss Vickie reported her day on the beach was interesting. There were not a lot of people on the beach because of the poor weather, but the folks who were there wanted to know what she was looking for. She became the “shark’s tooth guru” teaching everyone what to look for and helping them.

Thursday night we were having Ragu Bolognese ala Wes III. Yours truly had started around 11:00 AM (assisted by daughter Aylea) to prepare my well-tested pasta recipe. I even brought my Lodge cast iron Dutch oven all the way there since I feel it is a necessity. (if you are driving—flying is a different story) Aylea and I chopped, sautéed, browned, deglazed, crushed, simmered and stirred. I had even brought San Marzano tomatoes from my stock at home. When all was properly combined it went into a 225º convection oven for the rest of the afternoon.

I retired to the kitchen table, with a view of the beach and waves rolling in, to capture some of the events of the week. Folks came and went, shopping, eating, beaching, playing guitar hero, just regular daily stuff for a sort of off and on rainy day at the beach. It was a nice day of respite in some ways. You can’t ask for a better “writers perch” than overlooking the ocean, with a happy family surrounding you, and dinner from your own hands slowly simmering in the oven.

Sometime during the day, my son discovered the house we were renting had a hidden elevator. He was looking at the breaker box (like nosy engineers often do) and noticed a breaker labeled elevator. Once he did it was obvious there was a locked door, all in alignment, on each floor. On their own they appeared to be just locked “owners closets” but when taken as a whole they spelled elevator. Me being a half cripple, it was a little disappointing that the owners of this particular house chose to let me struggle up and down four flights of stairs all the time when I could have ridden. Just a word to the wary, if you rent a 3 or 4 floor beach house with kitchen and gathering area on the top floor, be sure to ask if it comes with an elevator and if that elevator is only for the privileged.

As everyone started gathering for dinner, I made some Yoder’s cole slaw and got some Barilla Plus pasta ready to boil. I am partial to Barilla Plus spaghetti with my Bolognese and what’s even better is it is good for you. Tom and Marain had made the trip to Myrtle Beach for the day and called to see if we needed anything. I ordered up some crusty chewy bread to go with dinner and everything came together nicely.

The food must have been ok cause it got snarffled up with just a few leftovers. Anyone who would like the recipe let me know. It’s somewhat laborious to make, but rewarding in the finish. While I was finishing up dinner Miss Vickie returned from the beach and cooked up a massive tray of her famous peach Jello shots. These went into the refrigerator for later appreciation.

After dinner, we got out the Rummy Cube game. It is one of the few games I can really play. (I’ve just never taken the time to learn a lot of the others, sorry kids) We had a bunch of spirited players, and half way through Miss Vickie passed around the tray of her special libations. We played and talked and sparred until everyone succumbed to the call of the bed. The whole day was wonderful.
More later,
Wes

Fourth of July 09 Beach Trip #4

Wednesday morning dawned bright and pretty. Everyone was chomping to get to the beach. Carrie and Creston especially wanted to get in some beach time cause they had to go home today. Everybody scurried around and hauled all “the gear” to the beach. I decided to disconnect the truck from the boat and use it to haul my stuff (and my butt) down to the beach access. I used my handicap parking privileges to secure a spot near the beach access.

The beach on this particular day was nearly perfect. The wind was low, temp was in the middle 80’s, and the water was warm. I sat under my mother of all umbrellas and watched the world go by. Intermittently I got up and spent some time in the ocean. I really love to swim in the ocean when I get a chance. Miss Vickie spent her time searching the beach for anything collectable. Mostly she is currently interested in sharks teeth and sea glass. She has a big time and the patience of Job searching for both.

Sitting on a well populated beach during the 4th of July week caused me to wax analytical about all manner of things. The first thing that came to mind was how wonderful all these folks can still afford a vacation with their families even with the economic troubles we currently face. An then gazing at the ocean and remembering the MRAP vehicle we saw on a trailer at the Rest Stop on the way down got me thinking about all the kids who are over seas and at home keeping our way of life safe. My kids were here with me at the beach---I am a fortunate man. An then there is the thought that even with adversity—life is good if you take your fun where can find it.

Carrie and Creston packed up had lunch and headed up the road. They had to drive back to the DC area so Carrie could go back to work tomorrow. Vickie and I agreed with each other how fortunate we were to be happily retired and free to live life on a slightly different plane. We enjoyed the beach till mid afternoon, and then made a run to the local stores for some supplies.

This is a good time to mention a really cool service we found on this trip. Anyone who has ever been to Ocean Isle Beach in the distant past knows you used to have to travel all the way to Shallotte to go to the grocery store. Then years later they built a new Food Loin down the road toward Sunset Beach. That and the local small IGA were the only food supply sources available. Also anyone who has ever been to this or any beach for that matter knows how it is always a mob scene the first couple days at the grocery store as everyone tries to stock their larder for the week. While planning for this trip, I got an Email from Lowes Foods (whom I have a green points card with) telling me about a new service called Lowes Foods To Go, an on line shopping service. I sent a note to my daughter in law, Emily, about it thinking it might be useful for our beach trip because they had a store nearby. She embraced it quickly, and soon we were preparing an online shopping list for the beach.

It turned out that this service is beyond cool. I even put in my green points number so we could take advantage of the specials. How it works is that you prepare an online shopping list, complete with prices, sale prices, and quantities. You then pay a one-time charge of $5.95, which allows you unlimited on line shopping at that store for a week. You then transfer your shopping list to a shopping cart, and put in your credit card number, selecting a pick up date and time, and place the order. At your appointed time, you show up at the Lowes Foods, and pull into one of their special Lowes Foods To Go lanes, push a call button, and the person asks for your name. Then they politely say they’ll be right out with your order. They proceed to bring out everything you bought, load it in the car, and refuse to be tipped. (read they are not allowed) This is shopping like we always thought it might be in the future. We have used the service several times subsequently all week with similar favorable results. I can only imagine how useful this type of service would be for a busy mother who works and tries to keep up a family household. Emily said she is going to try to find a similar service near her home in Manassas. I can only imagine the young kids running around the store being shoppers for the to goers.

On the way back from the store, we picked up a nice big watermelon at a roadside stand. The kids fixed Chicken Marsala with Portobello mushrooms and risotto for dinner. My son used the couple quarts of hand made chicken stock from my previous days endeavors in the risotto. We topped it all with fresh cold watermelon for a great feed.
More later,
Wes

Fourth of July 09 Beach Trip #3

Tuesday morning arrived bright and sunny. The weather report promised only the possibility of scattered and or isolated storms, so we decided to take the boat and venture out to our deserted wild beach. Our current rental property is on the ocean side with a great view of the ocean from the lovely kitchen/living area on the top floor. It is also in close proximity to the houses that are situated on the canal system at OIB that was devised to create more waterfront property. Since we were planning to ferry some folks out to the remote beach, and we had 6 lifejackets for 10 folks (Greta had a dedicated midget lifejacket) we looked around at the closest canal to us to see if there might be a dock we could utilize to facilitate the transfer (the boat ramp dock is not quick walking distance from our house). We found a vacant lot just down the street complete with dock. The nice lady next door said the owner (a builder) would certainly not care if we utilized the dock so we were all set.

We loaded up everything in the boat and with the first wave of folks, headed for the remote beach. We easily beached the boat and headed back for the balance of the crew. Cell phones came in quite handy for this endeavor. We turned one canal too early, so I got some additional practice in “advanced low-speed jet boat maneuvers” in order to turn around and head back to the correct canal to meet our waiting party. With everyone transferred to the beach, we picked a smaller crew and decided to try some water skiing. We spent some time trying to get folks up on the skis, and only once managed to suck the ski rope into the boat impeller. Needless to say yours truly was a little embarrassed by that particular event, but the operation of a jet boat does have somewhat of a learning curve. The convenient clean out port allowed us to quickly untangle the rope and we continued. Mostly what we found out was it is pretty much difficult to ski on the ICW during July 4th week---the boat traffic is pretty busy. Next time out we are going to try going up the Shallotte River a ways and see if that’s not a little better.

We spent a nice afternoon hanging out on the remote beach—looking for shells, swimming, sun bathing, and just generally having a big time. Finally the weather started threatening a little so I suggested we probably ought to start the return trip. As it turned out, about the time we got to the dock, it was pouring down rain. But then we were all wet already and wearing swimming suits, so other than being a little cool it wasn’t a big deal. We off loaded most of the gear, and then headed back to the boat ramp. We had one couple we wanted to let try some tubing if we could (Creston and Cary, Emily’s sister and her husband) since they had to leave Wednesday. We hooked up the tube rope and they got on it in the water. We took off pulling them and they were having a big time. We managed to use a sharp turn to slingshot them enough that they actually were moving faster than the boat for a short period of time. Fun with angular velocity! After a while it started to rain a little, then it started to rain a lot. We got them back in the boat and headed again for the dock. We got most everyone off loaded (in the downpour) then the boys and I headed for the ramp to get the boat landed. It was really crazy driving the boat through the pouring rain.

We got the boat trailered OK and headed back to the house. The plan for that evening was to go to a restaurant to celebrate the various anniversaries/birthdays/whatever that had happened in the last couple months. (just another way of saying both sets of grandparents took everyone out for dinner) We went to Captain Nance’s in Calabash. What trip to the beach in this part of the country would be complete without a trip to Calabash? A wonderful time was had by all, and appetites were well sated with all manner of fried crustaceans. (I remarked that this particular restaurant had a Lipitor dispenser in the bathroom instead of a condom dispenser). I seem to remember ice cream somewhere on the way home as well, all in all a wonderful day at the beach. I was dead tired when we got home and crashed for a while with a book on my chest.
More later,
Wes

Fourth of July 09 Beach Trip #2

Sunday at the Ocean Isle Beach: everyone headed for the beach. I am somewhat of a beach aphobic. I really like it I just don’t like the sun and sand and wind and suntan goo. I used to like Ocean Isle’s beach OK cause we’d put up a gazebo on the beach we could leave up all week, and it was great to sit under. But a couple of years ago, the Ocean Isle folks got the idea that the gazebos were interfering with the breeding habits of the sea turtles. Now I’m as environmentally friendly as the next guy, but I was a little put off by the whole “no gazebos” thing (as were some other folks I know who quit coming to Ocean Isle because of it). In my sometimes-cynical view of life, I figured it was probably cause the local government wanted to either run or franchise some kind of beach umbrella rental business, and needed a monopoly. My daughter knew of my beach issues, so compromised by getting me the mother of all beach umbrellas for Father’s Day.

With the whole family happily “down at the beach” I hung around doing some kitchen snack prep work like peeling and cutting up 5# of carrots, making dip, marinating meat, etc. (subconsciously anything to avoid the beach). Finally I decided to brave it, and greased up to make the journey. Just as I got to our spot on the beach and landed in my chair under my new umbrella, it started to rain. I apologized to everyone for bringing the rain, and we packed up for the return to the house.

Dinner that evening was fajitas both of the beef and chicken variety. Previously on Saturday night we had baby back ribs and rotisserie chicken that had been started at home then finished upon arrival. Also great corn on the cob hand imported from the farmlands of York PA by Em’s mom and dad. Both nights’ chicken carcasses made their way to a large pot and were cooked down with various condiments to become stock for later usage. Everyone has been pitching in with the kitchen duties, and it is sort of a “fun for all”. As with most big family gatherings, after dinner each night we settled down for a nice quiet session of Guitar Hero World Tour on the Playstation at 125 db. Life is good.

Monday morning, Miss Vickie disappeared to her favorite beach pass time of wandering, and I got some of the young folks together, and said, “let’s go see about getting the boat in the water.” It ended up being Jon, Aylea, Wes IV, Greta, and me as captain. This was Greta’s first boat ride, and so we made sure that she was properly outfitted with her lifejacket, sunscreen, hat, and sunglasses. We rounded up everything and headed for the free boat ramp that lives under the Ocean Isle Beach high-level bridge. It’s a real steep ramp, and puts you right into the Inter Costal Waterway. We got the boat launched uneventfully, and headed down the ICW to see what we could see. Heading South (which is actually West because of this islands peculiar orientation) we came to the famous Sunset Beach swinging bridge (as in swings open), which is soon to be replaced with a high level bridge, much to everyone’s aesthetic chagrin. The posted schedule said the bridge only opened on the hour, and being it was 10:30 we elected to head the other direction.

Heading North (which again here is actually East) we passed our launch point, and then on to the mouth of the Shallotte River. We looked around there, and continued up Waterway till we reached the harbor and high level bridge to Holden beach. Along the way we passed the opening between Holden Beach and Ocean Isle Beach where you could make a turn and head out to the Atlantic Ocean. Also in that general area we found a great stretch of beach where we could bring folks with the boat and hang out. Greta was a natural at the boat riding, and had a great time. She comes by her love of motorized conveyances honest, as my family has the gene that causes us to have some amount of gasoline in our veins, starting with my mother, then me (which you already know), and carrying through to both of my kids (and apparently my granddaughter). We returned to our launch point, and successfully trailered the boat for the return to the house, planning a future trip to our beach find. We discovered at home that we gave the boat its first contact with the dock, due to some telltale yellow plastic stuck in a couple of the screws on the bumper strip of the boat. Oh well, it wouldn’t be my boat if it was completely pristine.

That night we had a modified clambake (fresh shrimp, some of the most buttery clams I have ever had) along with crab cakes and some more of the wonderful York corn. This evening we settled down for some lively board games and conversation.
More later,
Wes

Fourth of July 09 Beach Trip #1

It all started a few months ago when my son called and said they had rented a house at the beach for July 4th week. He wasn’t sure exactly who was going to be there, but it would be a group. We ended up with Wes IV (my son) his wife Emily, granddaughter Greta, Aylea (my daughter) and her husband Jon, Carrie (Emily’s sister) and her husband Creston, Tom and Marian (Emily’s parents) and Miss Vickie and I. I said we’d love to go and mentioned that I might want to bring my (old) boat, but that I wasn’t sure cause the whole boat thing was somewhat up in the air at that point. Well now it is 4th of July week and we are happily at the beach with family, good weather, new boat, and new truck to pull it with. The in-between is quite a story.

To start with, I had some trepidation (actually a deep seated phobia) of going anywhere on a holiday week. But since the kids were willing to do it, I said what the heck. Then I read how less people were traveling this year etc. etc. so I started worrying less about it. Also, I figured all the accommodations at the beach would be slammed, and I have an additional phobia about crowds. It all turned out to be useless worry because now that we’re here it is and was no worse than any trip to the beach we’ve ever made. The crowds are definitely manageable, and the traffic getting here was pretty much a non-event.

Also in the planning stages I still had my 78 Checkmate boat and our 03 Tahoe to pull it with. In the ensuing months the Checkmate went to a good home and was replaced with a new Yamaha SX230. That happened the last week of April, and then the rains started. We bought the new boat and it rained almost every day for about 6 weeks. So we pretty much had a “yard yacht” brand new that had never been in the water. Meanwhile the beach trip was fast approaching. We had intended to take the boat on our last trip to Hilton Head, but that just didn’t seem to work out either. Then in the meantime, we determined the Tahoe was working way too hard pulling the new boat, so it went to the Chevy dealer and came back as a big red pickup with the max towing package. So all was well for a trip to the beach. I hoped.

Jon and Aylea (my daughter and son in law) came from Pittsburgh and made our house their interim stop over. On Friday before the trip, a lot of “plans came together” and our new bed rug and toneau cover were installed on the pickup. Since we didn’t really have to be at Ocean Isle till 4pm or so, we had time Saturday morning to load the truck and boat. We ended up with pretty much everything we owned that had anything to do with the beach loaded in both the truck and boat. Since it is a crew cab as well, Jon and Aylea rode with us. The queen mary pulled out of the driveway with four people, their luggage for a beach trip, plenty of water toys, 5 or 6 cases of liquid refreshment, and towing the boat. I was apprehensive how this was all going to go.

Soon however, I got the feel of driving “the rig”. We pulled out on the Ridgeway by pass and it wasn’t long till I had the cruise control set on 70. Vickie had a white-knuckle death grip on her grab handle. (which she had off and on all the way to the beach especially on the Durham Freeway) One thing is certain, for all its faults, GM still knows how to build a honkin’ big 4 wheel drive truck that will tote your stuff in comfort and safety. After a while and some driving adjustments, I was ready to pull “the rig” anywhere in the US.

We arrived at Ocean Isle pretty close to our scheduled time with the only delay being a slight backtrack in Wilmington when we thought we might run out of gas. Ooops. Did I mention that the truck fuel computer is off by about 5%? I looked at the fuel range vs. the miles left to go and decided we better get gas while we could. Rt. 17 south of Wilmington is pretty much nothing till you get to the beach turnoffs. Our truck being a crew cab short bed has only a 26 gallon fuel tank. The longer bed trucks are available with a 36 gallon tank that I wish ours had. Pulling the boat with everything we own and running 70-75 mph a lot of the time yields mileage in the 10-11 range. One time I was in the fast lane passing a Honda Prius, and I looked down (down is the operative word here) scoffing, “heck buddy, I’m using 4 times as much gas as you are”. As he looked up cowering and hoping I didn’t run over him. J I wanted to break out in a chorus of “I’m proud to be an American”.

We got close to the beach house we were planning to stay in, and called the kids. They were already there, and told us to come on in---they left us a good parking space. Turned out the parking space IS good, but involves stopping traffic on the main road to allow me to back the boat under the deck with about 2 feet to spare on either side. With the help of my son and son in law, however, we got the boat safely landed an all our “stuff” hauled in and stowed. I was glad to be here, but now have considerably more confidence traveling with “our rig”. We’re all looking forward to a great week of beaching, boating and fun.
More later,
Wes

Hilton Head Day Four

Wednesday ended up being another quite day. I caught up on my writing, and Brenda worked on her jewelry. The radio announced that Wednesday was “Root Canal Appreciation Day” No one was too excited about that. Jerry and Vickie took turns napping in the morning. I did some prep work in the kitchen, planning sliders for lunch and steak for dinner. Once again we had intentions of going to the beach, but just about the time of day when it got warm enough for the beach, the afternoon rains came. So Vickie and I took off for the store to pick up a few things, and books and resting were the pastime of choice at the condo. Once again it poured rain for at least an hour. It was a little dry when we got here, but not now.

While we were sitting on the back deck, we saw a Red Tailed Hawk fly in and land in one of the trees close to the condo. Vickie went out and was able to get numerous pictures of the bird as it posed for her. Then while we were sitting there watching the one bird, its mate flew past with one of our local squirrels in its clutches. I’ll never forget the look on the squirrels face as he flew past dangling from the hawk talons. Sort of like---oh krap, guess I’m going to be on the lunch menu today for the hawk chicks.

One day this week the girls had a girley kind of day and put on long artificial nails and fixed their hair. Now all week Vickie is learning how to do stuff with long nails again. Another cool thing, we discovered an interesting new snack food at the Fresh Market. It is okra that has been deep fried quickly with no batter (like potato chips) in canola oil and then dusted with sea salt. It makes you think it is good for you because it is bright green. Somehow even though it’s fried because the color is green it seems healthy.

Later we decided to avail ourselves of the Club House activity opportunities, however when we got there we found the normally deserted building had been occupied by two other residents and the pool table was taken. The ping-pong table was available but there were only 2 paddles, and the only ball had a dent in it making it flat on one side. Jerry and Brenda tried ping-pong, but the square ball made for some rather strange bounces. Vickie and I attempted to play a game of plain old-fashioned checkers. So once again we headed back to the condo, but now since it was late and the rain had given up, we took Jerry’s Bocce Ball set out onto the 4th fairway, and had several spirited games of Bocce.

As it started to get late, we headed in and started dinner. Jerry and I walked over to the provided outdoor gas grills. These grills just happen to be on the shore of the Turtle/Alligator pond. What could possibly go wrong with the combination of impending darkness, alcohol, raw meat, and alligators. Well we survived and it was interesting watching the critters watch us cook. One particularly aggressive turtle chased me around I guess thinking I was going to feed him. We assumed that quite often these denizens get the odd piece of meat from the grillers. Even though the sign warns it is a $1000 fine to feed or molest the alligators, turtles are not specifically mentioned. At one point I counted 14 turtles and an alligator watching us cook.

We had a lovely meal of rib eye steak fixed to our special traveling recipe. When we travel I always carry my Rachel Wray Santoku knife and Lawry’s Garlic Salt Coarse Ground With Parsley. We buy a small bottle of olive oil, and Jerry usually brings gallon storage bags. We rub the steaks well with the oil, some pepper, and Lawry’s. Then put them in the refrigerator for at least a day, sometimes two or three. (we have used this recipe in numerous countries and states) We paired the steak up with some great corn nuked in the husk (Vickie’s special recipe) salad, and some very nice Shiraz Jerry scored at the Piggy Wiggly. For desert we had a great meringue topped key lime pie from the Fresh Market. Would have been a $150 dinner for four here in Hilton Head, but we eliminated the middleman and did it for about $40.

Once again we had a great evening playing many spirited games of dominoes until it was time for bed. Another very relaxing great day was in the books.
More later,
Wes

Hilton Head Day Three The Bike Wreck

Hello, more musings about nothing particular and everything in general.

Tuesday morning we all lazed about getting our individual breakfast choices, checking Email, perusing through the news on line, showering, watching bad golfers, and in general just living a relaxed resort kind of life. Brenda had started working on a bazillion piece jigsaw puzzle. Jerry and Vickie were helping and or kibitzing. Got me wondering who actually started calling them jigsaw puzzles? Did some guy paste a picture on a board and then cut it up with a jigsaw in little pieces for his kids to put together one rainy day? Sometimes you just have to think about these kinds of things. It is very nice to travel with our long term traveling companions. Over time we have learned to accommodate each other’s idiosyncrasies, and we can relax together with minimal stress.

Later as we all finished preparation, we loaded in Jerry’s Explorer and set out to explore (pardon the pun) the island. Jerry and Brenda have started a business distributing Kazuri Beads. While on their safari to Kenya they visited the Kazuri bead factory in Nairobi. Here they saw the process where Kazuri beads are hand made by the local residents. When they returned they decided to get involved in distributing the rare and unusual beads in the U.S.A year or so later they have a web site www.kakarjewelry.com and are attending bead shows regularly. That is actually how we came to be at Hilton Head this week. They had a local bead shop to visit along with a bead show this coming weekend in Charleston. I had to chuckle at the name of the bead shop, “Hemp Seed and High Tide Beads”. Even more entertainment was had as we actually visited the shop. Jerry and Brenda went into the shop to conduct their business, while Vickie and I wandered the little strip mall containing the shop. Jerry later reported the owners looked the part of creative artists.

First on the list of interesting stuff was a bunch of Yuppie women discussing their bead purchases on a bench outside the bead shop. Allow me to digress a minute about my use of the term Yuppie. Yuppie is not a derogatory term for me, but more a descriptive term. And to me the root term Yuppie has many sub types however most are unnamed. Let me say that I also consider myself the antithesis for some Yuppies. In my opinion they perceive my eccentricity as a threat to their very formal and organized rich peoples lives. I just find the whole mess entertaining and food for my ever-wondering mind. End of digression, oh and let me record it here: I just promised Vickie if she could get me a hotel room with a window overlooking a good view of Fremont Street, with my laptop, Internet connection, pocket tape recorder, and a good supply of liquor, I’d go with her back to Las Vegas. (I notoriously hate Las Vegas since among my many vices gambling IS NOT and the place bores me quickly)

Back to the strip mall: the ladies discussing their bead purchases gave the appearance of being rich and bored. In addition they looked suspiciously at me as I made notes on my pocket recorder and observed life. I moved on down the mall to “The Island Gold Works” looking in the windows at many beautiful items on display. I got to the door, and there was this sign with a new approach to business (for me). The sign said “Open, Please press buzzer and wait for assistance”. I didn’t figure they wanted to talk to me so I moved on down the mall. Soon I was standing in front of “The Encore Consignment Store”. I looked inside, and it was a Yuppie consignment store, which looked to me like a fancy women’s store. Vickie made a circuit through the store and reported it was stocked with all types of high end “stuff” there on consignment. From looking at some shoes displayed out front, according to Vickie, you could buy “used” $250 shoes for $45. Interesting concept, would be a shopping bonanza for folks who weren’t from here. Also in the strip mall was a cool looking bar---not open darn it. And on the end was a real tearoom with little old ladies drinking tea, reading books, and chatting quietly. Beside the tearoom was a Cat Clinic, and the “Dr. Is (was) In”. Everywhere at this mall Yuppiedom was in evidence especially in the parking lot. There was a preponderance of Mercedes, Exotic SUV’s and other high end transportation. While Jerry and Brenda finished their business, Vickie and I landed on a bench and perused the proffered free literature proclaiming the attractions of Hilton Head. Interesting reading. Vickie found a residence that was now down to $845,000 from it’s 2006 appraisal of $1.6 million. I read an interesting article by a guy who retired from “The War on Drugs” and was now a “Security Consultant” to a security company servicing the residents of Hilton Head. (think he was a high end security system salesman) I also read about this cool solar device that is supposed to be able to heat water even on cloudy days. Article says it is especially good for heating hot tubs and touted possible Federal Tax credits. I tore out the page and intend to investigate upon returning home.

We left the Yuppie strip mall and headed to Sea Pines Plantation. Sea Pines is the original development on Hilton Head Island. It was started and planned by Charles Fraser, who is buried under the Liberty Oak overlooking the harbor. His theory was build the attractions first I.E. the marinas, the golf courses, the swimming pools, and beach accesses, then plan the community around them gently preserving and working with the natural vegetation. The result is a beautiful blend of houses, condos, recreation, shopping, ponds, trees, alligators, birds, and bike trails. It was so successful Charles’s overarching plan of having restrictive development covenants attached to land became the standard of the resort industry. His tenants were used in the development of several other SC developments including Kiowa Island. He was a truly great man.

We had a great lunch at one of the restaurants overlooking the harbor at Harbor Village. The food was great, I had a cup of (very good) Crab Bisque, and a Cuban Sandwich, Brenda had a Chicken Panini, Jerry had a Blackened Tuna Wrap, and Vickie had a Pulled Pork Sandwich. All came with Sea Pines Chips, which were great kettle cooked potato chips. We also ordered the special drink of the day a Bahama Mama. We figured the special ought to be special. We weren’t disappointed---the drink was especially ordinary and the price was especially ridiculous. All in all lunch reminded us we were in Hilton Head by being ridiculously over priced.

After lunch I wanted to tour the harbor and look at the boats. I stopped, just out of curiosity, at the fuel dock. The fuel pump had the most recent sales still recorded on it. The first one was “Off Road Low Sulfur Non Highway Diesel” $2.369 per gallon, last sale 395 gallons for $937.24. On the gasoline side $3.119 per gallon last sale 40 gallons for $127.24. It’s obvious the gasoline still contains “Road Taxes” which is pretty ridiculous for a boat. In VA there is some mechanism for recovering the “Road Tax” paid on boat gas. We have not explored it yet, but with the new boat holding 51 gallons of gas, we probably will.

After visiting the fuel dock, Vickie and I continued our tour of the harbor. We saw some beautiful boats, and wondered what the dockage must be to stay in this particular (very special) harbor. I say very special because the 18th green just across the harbor is featured in the PGA Verizon Heritage at the Harbor Town Golf Links. The boats (yachts) did not disappoint either. I made myself a note to look up Lazzara Yachts because that was the name on a very beautiful yacht we saw moored there. (which I did, and they are incredible)

After viewing all the sights at Sea Pines, we returned home via the Fresh Market and Piggly Wiggly to obtain sustenance for the balance of the week. After we got back and unloaded all our stuff, everyone settled down to do whatever, and Miss Vickie took her bike back to the beach to look for shells. I took the opportunity to explore a little, and found the “Club House” that is associated with our group of units. It has a nice pool table, ping-pong table, beautiful work out room, and a shelf of books and games. Amongst the games I found a box of very nice 9 spot dominoes, and we have passed the last two evenings with spirited dominoes tournaments. (don’t want to jinx things, but yours truly has won the last two nights)

After exploring the clubhouse, I went and soaked my lower legs in the hot tub at the pool for about 20 minutes. While soaking I watched the turtles and alligators in the pond next to the pool. Then I headed back to the condo. I hadn’t been back too long when Miss Vickie came in quite distressed. Seems as though she had lost control of her bike on the bike path, and rode down an embankment wedging herself between two trees and under the bike. She had to be rescued by 2 ladies. Good news is she didn’t break anything, mostly cuts and bruises, and no alligators or snakes got to her. Bad part is the unmerciful abuse she has had to endure from all of us. We took good care of her, and got her soaking in a warm whirlpool bath, and gave her some Tylenol for her pain. Cut on her finger required bandaging, and she had to get some dirt and blood out of her swimsuit cover up. Jerry wanted her to go back, lie down in the weeds and recreate the wreck so we could take a picture for the blog. (Vickie didn’t think so) By Wednesday she was doing better, but has not been back on the bike again yet.
More later,
Wes

Hilton Head Day Two

Well we got here Sunday afternoon, and now it is Wednesday morning. We have not done a lot of structured things, but have enjoyed our time greatly. This will probably be a Sienfieldesque blog, a show about nothing.

Monday morning, no one got moving too early, and those who did, indulged in nothing more than a good book or relaxing breakfast watching the golfers tee off on #4. (which is quite the entertaining pastime) Vickie and I took the complimentary bicycles that came with the condo, and rode down to the beach. Actually twice cause the first time we couldn’t find it, and had to come back for directions. After directions, the second time we made it to the beach and to our surprise found very nice facilities and a pretty beach. They had chairs and umbrellas for rent ($30 for an umbrella and 2 chairs for 1st day and $18 a day after that, payable in advance). The water was cool but not frigid I thought even warmer than Outer Banks in June.

After scoping out the facilities Vickie and I headed back to the condo to report. We checked in with our friends, and after some research found we could hit the main pool bar for a hot dog for lunch. Vickie and I rode the bikes back, and Jerry and Brenda walked, opting for the exercise. We soon were parked at a pretty much deserted pool and pool bar. We ordered (from the very unpersonable bar lady) some of the proffered tropical specialties, to go with some dogs and burgers. In a little while our lackluster food arrived, essentially plain but with a basket containing little plastic packets of condiments. We built some quasi-palatable creations, and washed them down with reasonably good drinks. The whole thing introduced us to the Hilton Head motto: If it isn’t overpriced, then you’re not in Hilton Head. Apparently in this area of the country, the economic downturn is not being considered. (although the occupancy looks to be about 30% but that may be because it is still May)

After our mediocre but at least properly overpriced lunch, we retired to the condo intending to hit the pool. But Mother Nature had pretty much decided that was not to be. The skies began to blacken, while we watched and listened to a thunderstorm roll in. (like we hadn’t had enough rain last week in Martinsville) Checking the weather on the Internet, we found we were in the path of a severe thunderstorm warning. We opened the bar or should I say reopened the bar, and settled down to watch the fun.

Golfers are a curious breed; they just will not admit that it is really going to storm until it is raining so hard they can’t see the ball. And then what is this whole thing of holding a metal rod in your hand on a flat grass field while it is lightening? Seems like a death wish to me, but then this is Hilton Head, and I’m sure they don’t refund those overpriced greens/cart fees once you have paid them.

We watched the golfing ramp down as the rain ramped up. The rain continued to RAMP UP. Pretty soon it was raining literally in sheets. We could look out across the golf course and see sheets of rain moving down the fairway. Then the golf course began to look like a pond, and after a while the whole fairway was under water. I reminded my compatriots that this was a swamp until they decided to fill it in and build stuff on it. We had a couple funny events happen during the storm. It was raining so hard Jerry and I could not resist standing out on the front porch and watching. The lightening/thunder was loud, but by time differential not all that close. All of a sudden the lightening struck something close by and issued forth one of those giant SNAP sounds that scare the poop out of you. Everyone in the condo screamed, and Jerry and I bumped into each other getting in the front door. We had a good laugh about it. It was even raining so hard at one point; I put on my new prescription snorkeling mask just to try it out. After we were back inside from the lightening scare, we were watching the waterfall coming off our upper roof, when we noticed a drink cup Brenda had left out on the patio table. She had had water in it on the way back from lunch, and had left it empty on the table. Well now the cup was full to within 1 inch of the top with rainwater, all in about 30-40 minutes. After the storm abated, Vickie took her bike back down to the beach since it was low tide to look for shells. When she returned we decided to go with a rerun of last nights dinner and polished off the second half of Jerry’s lasagna from the previous night.

Our condo comes equipped with many games, puzzles, and movies. One very cool entertainment feature of the condo is the step on the stairs to the second floor that at the quietest unexpected times sounds amazingly like flatulence when trend upon. This has been the source of untold verbal sparring and laughter. Of course this is from the same crew (missing Jimmy and Judy) that almost laughed themselves silly in a cabin at the North Rim of The Grand Canyon on the last night of the season when Miss Brenda produced a secretly packed whoopee cushion. This same Miss Brenda conned us into a game of Trivial Pursuit for the evening. Only problem was this particular Trivial Pursuit box contained a game based solely on the 80’s. Due to some marital discord and/or relationship issues (for most of us) the 80’s were better forgotten, and that is about what we all did. Therefore trivial questions based solely on events from the 80’s were daunting for us, to say the least. Trivial Pursuit turned into Trivial Pursuit of a Coma. Finally we all conceded and allowed Brenda to win (since she was whipping our butts anyhow). As we carried over our Trivial comas everyone drifted off to the beds with the lure of another relaxing nights sleep.
More later,
Wes

Hilton Head Day One

Well hello again from the road. After what seems like a forever hiatus, for my knee surgery, we are traveling again. My total right knee replacement was a tough and painful procedure. The therapy following surgery gave me new definitions of the word pain. I now have more respect for folks (and there are many) who share with me that they too have had knee replacements. Mine happened on March 3rd and I am just now feeling like tackling the world (albeit in smaller pieces). But one thing is for sure, my leg certainly works better than it did pre-surgery, and I can’t say enough good about the medical team that made it happen for me. Thanks to Dr. David Martin and Crew at Wake Forest Baptist Hospital.

Today finds us at Hilton Head SC ensconced in a lovely 3-bedroom condo on the 4th tee of one of the many golf courses here. Previous to this we had only ever spent 1 night on Hilton Head Island, and really didn’t understand too much about it. We are guests of our frequent traveling partners, Brenda and Jerry Williams. You may recall from past musings, Jerry and Brenda are Miller (nowadays MillerCoors) retirees like Vickie and myself. We all worked at the same plant for almost 30 years, so have much in common. In addition, Jerry and I are both ex-Yankees, while Vickie and Brenda both grew up in Danville VA. The condo is one of the bazillions on Hilton Head nestled in amongst the pine trees, creeks, golf courses, swimming pools, alligators, and private homes. We were talking yesterday; this development really is a mature endeavor. Jerry remembers coming here on a sales pitch tour, over 30 years ago and some of the earliest development started in the early 50’s. Thanks to wise and carefully planned development, however, the island recognizes over 35,000 permanent residents, and has become a year round resort destination for millions.

We drove down from Martinsville on Sunday via Charlotte NC and Columbia SC. Jerry and Brenda stuck to the Interstates and Vickie and I drove the Vette via Rt. 321 through the SC back country. It was a beautiful day and we all arrived safely. Vickie and I had an interesting trip, especially south of Columbia SC on Rt. 321. Rt. 321 must have been a main route prior to the Interstates. It reminded us often of the little town “Radiator Springs” in the movie “Cars”. There were old strip motels, old Stuckies buildings, and old gas stations most of which were abandoned or closed. We left Columbia around 11:30 am. Vickie suggested we might want to get something to eat, as there might not be anything soon along the way. I thought it was a little early for lunch so pressed on. Turns out she was very right. We ended up not finding anything to eat till 12 miles from Hilton Head on the route we took.

Along the way on our trip (about 380 miles) from Ridgeway to Hilton Head, we had a few interesting moments. First happened on I-85 near Charlotte: out of nowhere a tractor-trailer tried to pass me in the right lane whilst both of us were doing about 73-75 mph. In front of him was a white van that was going about 65. He was determined to pass me, and had I not slackened speed, I guess he would have run me off the road or rammed the white van. It was a scary moment. He then proceeded on to tailgate one of his brother truckers at about 80 mph. The next came as we used the Interstate System to by-pass Columbia SC. We came in on Rt. 321, and had to head west on I-20 (briefly) then cut south on I-26 (briefly) then turn off again on Rt. 321. This particular grouping of roads makes for some harrowing lane changes and abrupt off ramps. Oftimes stellar braking or light speed acceleration was required to accomplish the desired trajectories. Further down Rt. 321 we were riding along, heading south and approached the town of North. Off in the distance we could see what appeared to be a huge airliner, but it was way too low and was banked at a very great angle. I commented to Vickie that it looked like the plane was going to crash. We lost sight of the plane, but as we passed through North (South Carolina) we once again caught sight of the plane, and there appeared to be not one but 2 planes. This time I recognized that they weren’t airliners, but very large military transports. It appeared as if they were on some type of maneuvers, but were flying awfully low. Vickie studied the map to see if a military base was near, but the closest was the Department of Energy installation at Savanna River. A little while later when we were crossing the Edisto River south of North, all of a sudden this giant plane crossed over the road directly above us nearly at tree top height. It was very loud and exciting. A few more interesting items of the day were as we left Neeses, the road sign read Norway 5 miles Denmark 15 miles so on we went. Later in Fairfax SC we found out we had missed “The Cooter Fest” by just one day. Wonder if Ben Jones (the original Cooter from the Dukes of Hazard) was there? Google tells me he even has a book out.

We arrived in the vicinity of Hilton Head and made contact with Jerry and Brenda on the cell. Turns out they were about 45 minutes behind us so we looked for something to eat. Ended up at O’Rileys Irish Pub, where they were advertising Mother’s Day specials on Mimosas and Bloody Marys. I had a nice 3 salad plate with chicken, tuna, and egg salads on a bed of lettuce, and Vickie had some potatoe skin appetizers that were loaded with cheese and fresh bacon. The food and drink was great, and the very nice owner, (a yankee according to Vickie) spent a considerable amount of time locating the whereabouts of our destination. Hilton Head is a veritable rabbit warren of lanes, culs de sac, and dead end resort only roads. Mapquest and his brothers know little about exact locations on the island. With directions in hand, we reunited with our companions at the check in office. After check in, several wrong turns and dead ends later, we arrived at 335 Carolina Club. The place is beautiful, and we are glad to be here. The heated outdoor pool is just 400 yards away, and the beach is a 5-minute bike ride. Brenda and Vickie took the Vette (top down) to the fresh market, and picked up a few necessities. Jerry brought lasagna he had previously made and frozen for our dinner, the bar is open, and we are camped for the night.
More later,
Wes

Our Last Nights in St. Kitts and Heading Home

My struggles with the Internet service here have continued. For the last two days every time I tried to get on my Comcast Email, I was somehow redirected to the hotel wireless log in page. Finally yesterday afternoon, laptop in hand, I camped in the business center and wouldn’t leave until they admitted it was not my problem but theirs. After I spent an hour convincing them, they agreed to work on the issue. At that point, I took my laptop, and told them to call me when they got it fixed. I headed down to the pool with a large rum drink to get out of my mad. It worked. (Oh and the Email access was fixed when I got back)

Earlier in the day we drove to the very remote end of the island for lunch. It is indescribably beautiful, and there are wild goats and monkeys everywhere. We ended up (literally) at the Reggae Beach Bar and Grill which was at the end of the end of the road. You could see the island of Nevis very close by. The Reggae was an open-air board floored sand everywhere kind of place. There was smoke billowing from the grill in the back and the blender was buzzing away on the bar. All complete with the customary Reggae music background. The menu was interesting, and we made our choices. Vickie got a barbequed chicken salad, Brenda got a hamburger, Jerry got a Mahi Mahi plate, and I got (finally) my Conch chowder, and Conch fritters. The food came and it was wonderful. The plates all had a salad that had pasta, little black beans, lettuce, cucumber, peas, and some type of fried orange root vegetable that was delicious. My Conch chowder was perfect, with just enough sand in it so you knew it was real, also plenty of conch meat slightly chewy. The Conch fritters were made from conch meat and the orange root vegetable used on the other plates, crisply fried and delicious. Jerry commented the fish was perfect, and Vickie raved about her chicken.

Also today was our shopping day. We usually take one day and let the girls take us shopping in the little booths and stalls of where ever we might be. Today there was supposed to be no cruise ship in port in Basseterre so we thought that would be a good time. Unfortunately the woman who though she knew the cruise boat schedule didn’t and we pushed and shoved with all the cruise boat folks to do our shopping. We did find some cool shirts and stuff for the girls, and sent some postcards home.

On today’s docket is some possible snorkeling; it has been so rough that we have not been able to get in the ocean here. Today seems a little calmer.

Well I wrote the above earlier, and did get a chance to do some snorkeling. It was rough, but once you got away from the shore it was tolerable. They have a breakwater off shore from the Marriott beach, and all along the breakwater were numerous kinds of fish. I spent about an hour cruising around, and ended up with a lot of salt water in my sinuses from the wave action.

After snorkeling I retired to the veranda for some refreshing rum drinks and also laid by the pool for a while. We decided to go to the famous Mr. X’s Shiggity Shack for dinner. We drove over and got a great table right on the beach. I really wanted a Caribbean lobster, and they had that on the menu grilled. Jerry and I both ordered that, Brenda ordered Mahi Mahi grilled and Vickie ordered Spear Ribs, which was their take on spare ribs. We had the specialty fruity rum drinks of the day, and awaited our food. When the food came, I got a disappointment. Jerry got the last lobster, and they brought me Mahi Mahi without even asking. Since I love grilled fish, I went along, but I had expected more from a place that had been so highly rated in Trip Advisor. Guess I’ll just have to come back for my Caribbean lobster. They had a band at The Shiggity Shack, but their first few numbers left us cold, so we headed back to the Marriott. Turns out the Marriott had a great Reggae band playing in the lobby, and Vickie and I danced, drank and sang the night away. It didn’t hurt that I had on my Bob Marley shirt, and knew a lot of the words to the music they did. We were the sparkplugs of the gathering, and made a lot of new friends that night. I don’t really remember how many rum thingies got consumed, but when the band took it’s last break, Vickie hauled me off to the bed. (I think she just wanted to go to the casino)

Saturday was a pretty laid back day for me. After I recovered from all the snorkeling, swimming, partying, eating, drinking, dancing, partying, dancing, drinking, well you get the picture. Guess I sort of felt my age a little on Saturday (To put it politely).

Saturday night, we had a wonderful dinner of all the leftovers, sandwich stuff and snacks from the week, and packed our bags. Later we all indulged in rum-raisin ice cream from the Pizza Shack at the Marriott. Sunday morning it was up at 07:00 and off to the St. Kitts Airport. Now we’re on a 5-hour layover in St. Maarten, waiting for our flight to Atlanta. Tonight we stay in Atlanta, and then back to GSO Monday morning. We’ll have the first cell service in almost 2 weeks tonight so hopefully we can contact some folks. Leaving paradise.
More later,
Wes

Traveling the Island and visiting Brimstone Hill

Monday we hit the pool early. Vickie went by the Calypso Café and got some donuts, which went great with the rum punch, I started drinking around 07:00 since we really didn’t have anything else. By the middle of the morning, they said they were going to head off for the grocery store. At this point I suggested I would stay put and keep an eye on the pool. Just bring more mixers. They came back later and all I really heard was the streets are so narrow that one time Jerry’s mirror got brushed back (possibly on a woman). Also that the grocery store, an IGA, was quite minimal in it’s selection and that the prices were high. However, we got the basics for sustenance for the rest of the week and they joined me back at the pool. Vickie made sure I was properly coated with sunscreen, and Jerry brought me a wonderful sandwich.

I told them a story about while they were gone. I decided to explore, and after checking out the various shops and restaurants (all very expensive) and ended up at the pool bar where you can sit in the water and socialize at the bar. While I’m sitting there this fellow with quite a number of tattoos, all of which were high quality, sort of gruffly said to me the classic “Whad’a you lookin at?” Now you have to remember I was wearing my Stevie Wonder black RayBans, and the chance of him being able to see my eyes was slim or nothing. Since he was quite large I decided to ignore the whole situation and soon left the pool bar back to My Space at the other pool. After sitting and contemplating the whole situation over several more rum punches, I decided to go back and find the guy. I found him, and very politely asked him what his problem was. He said sorry forget about it, he was having a bad day. I accepted that and went on about my business. Interestingly enough later on that evening, he came over and shook my hand and said he wanted to apologize, he was really sorry; it was just a bad moment for him. Amazing how human interaction goes. If I had been confrontational with him at the first meeting………I probably would have got my ass whipped and been in big trouble in a foreign country. As it turned out, I turned the other cheek, and all was well.

The next day I asked Jerry if we could try and find a local produce market so I could get some ingredients for a couple of dinners. He agreed and despite his harrowing first driving experience, we set out again. This was my first time as navigator. I’ll have to admit it is pretty weird sitting behind the dashboard where you are used to driving except all the controls are on the other side. We soon learned the technique of me watching the left side and folding the mirror when necessary with Jerry driving and doing the same on the right. Roundabouts are especially challenging. We found a little market down by the ferry terminal (ferry to Nevis) and I got some nice produce. We then headed on around the island on some of the skinniest roads I have ever seen. The roads are about a lane and ½ wide, and they allow parking on most of them. It’s pretty insane driving. After a while, Jerry made a right turn and we found ourselves headed up the access road to Brimstone Hill Fortress.

Brimstone Hill Fortress is a very significant point in the history of the Caribbean. Because of this fort and its commanding view of the surrounding waters, the English managed to maintain control of the West Indies and its lucrative sugar trade for hundreds of years. We got to the top of the winding access road and found it was $8 per person to visit plus $5 for an electronic guide phone thingie. We were a little hesitant about the steep entrance fee, but after viewing the fort, we were pleasantly surprised. Wisely, St. Kitts and England have turned preservation of Fort George over to a private foundation. All the money collected goes to support a small staff and the preservation of the fort. The Island Government contributes an annual stipend to assist with the work. The electronic guide really wasn’t necessary for us as Jerry and I had both read, “The Sweet Trade a History of St. Kitts” before coming here. We knew the significance the fort but it was just so cool seeing it in person. The views from atop the fort were astounding.

We continued our trip around the island, and in the process discovered we really didn’t need to spend the $89 per person to ride the old sugar cane train. The tracks ran pretty much parallel to the road and we got to see most of everything the train would have. Also we discovered the train only goes half way around the island and then they make you get off and get on busses. We followed our map and soon we were back at the resort. I just discovered recorded on my pocket recorder: I was supposed to report, on the way home from the fort, we saw 2 monkeys, 2 rainbows, and a site where they are building an old folks home that we all decided is where we want to end up. Also on the return trip we drove past the land fill which my compatriots that can smell said smelled pretty bad. Brenda commented it was quite a waste of beachfront property to make it a landfill. I figure in 10 years there will be high-rise condos on top of that landfill.

Would like to take a minute to diverge into a discussion of the Marriott Beach Club here at the St. Kitts Royal Marriot Hotel and Casino. We have stayed at numerous Marriott Vacation Club properties, and many other time-share properties under different company management. This Marriott is a little curious in that it’s a hotel and casino first, and then a time-share second. In order to build their time-share units, they are converting hotel buildings to time share buildings. It has only really been open as a time-share for about 2 years. They don’t quite have it right yet. We waited 18 months to get a trade to a unit here for our unit in Aruba. I’m not sure it was worth the wait. The grounds are beautiful, the pools are very nice, and the beach is large. It just escapes me what the issue is, but I think it’s the hustle bustle of the Hotel and Casino. People are always coming and going and the time-share is just a tiny part of the operation. The units are nicely appointed, but not up to the standards we expect from Marriott. Examples are Sunday when we arrived, I reported the exhaust fan did not work in my bathroom, it is Thursday and no mention made of it. (I even gave the General Manager a note at the Tues night Owners Reception---that was a joke) And then there is the whole issue with the Internet access. No one seems to care, no one talks to each other, and all they do is jerk me around. This is at what is supposed to be a 5 star resort----whatever that means. And the windows are all cloudy in our bedroom, there are only three chairs for the deck for a unit designed for at least 2 couples. There is no broiler pan in the stove, and no cookie sheet for heating bread. I could go on and on but you get the drift. Rant over.

One cool thing that has happened, a family of Lesser Antillean Bull Finches has adopted us. I noticed them scurrying around looking for cracker crumbs when we were snacking, so I gave them some cracker. Now they come right up to the door and chirp merrily asking for crackers. Their sound is quite pleasant, and they are fun company. The males are very pretty with an orange red neck with the rest very black. About the size of our North American Goldfinches. They are very unafraid, and when we really ignore them, they will come in and sit on the back of the dining room chair and chirp loudly.

Well off to the pool for some sun and relaxation. Seems like I did that yesterday, and the day before, oh well it’s a dirty job but someone has to do it.
More later,
Wes

To St. Kitts and Jerry's Driving Challenge

Sunday morning, we packed all our things back, piled them in the rental car, and headed for the St. Maarten airport. Of note here is our discovery of how to operate the compactor in our villa 10 minutes before we were to leave. Four adults a new compactor, and we never could figure out how to make it compact. It is a new Kitchenaid, and turns out you pick up on the opening foot pedal with your toe to make it compact. We dropped the bags off with the girls at the airport, and rode down to turn in the rental car. Along the way we stopped to fill the gas tank. I was watching the meter spin round and round and it ended up at 25.458 liters $36.91 Florins. The guy came to the window and said $25 US so that’s what we paid him. Later reading the car rental agreement, we had a good laugh. Seems like the desk clerk, who seemed a little rushed, created a new address for Jerry. Jerry now lives at 176 Red Gerald Resort Martinsvill. Virginia VA 24112606. Hope they don’t try to send him a letter there.

Customs and TSA at the St. Maarten Airport were pretty benign, and we were soon safely camped in our boarding area awaiting transportation. Pretty much on time our Liat Air Dash 8 turboprop pulls up to fetch us. We walk out across the tarmac, and climb aboard an already ¾ full flight. We find some seats here and there and settle ourselves for take off. It is stiflingly hot in the plane, but we know as soon as they start the engines it will be ok. Wrong. They started the engines, and perhaps because it was a low altitude flight, the pilot never turned on the air that blows out of those little overhead twisty things. So as the automaton (read flight attendant) droned her way through pages of the usual text, we taxied out for take off. I figured it had to get cooler when we were off the ground. Wrong again. Luckily it was only about a 20-minute flight to St. Kitts, and after one more memorized spiel from the robot flight attendant, we were in St. Kitts.

Customs and immigration in St. Kitts was very low key, with the exception of the lady that kept telling us to change lines.

Here I have to diverge a little to explain my great fall. You know how they have those movie theater type ropes to designate lines when you have things like say immigration. There was a grand total of about 10 or 12 folks that got off the plane in St. Kitts, and there were four “lanes” designated by the movie theater ropes. Jerry and Brenda picked one lane and proceeded on through. Vickie and I picked another lane and were told to stand at the yellow line. Then soon a lady came and told us to change lanes. Since the ropes were only about 18” off the ground, I decided to step over them rather than walk all the way back to get in the other lane. Then in a little while she told us to change lanes again. I repeated the process only this time I caught the top of my crock on the rope and went down with my armload of stuff the rope and poles. Everyone thought I was dead or something and came swarming. A very nice gentleman held out his hand and helped me get up from the floor. I was unhurt, just felt kind of dumb. I overheard the supervisor getting all over the lady to be sure and make the folks walk back and go around when changing lanes. I still don’t get what all the changing lanes stuff was about.

Finally our turn came, and we were processed through immigration by a girl who sang most of the time she was processing our papers. She didn’t sing to us, she just sang. But the papers were processed, and our luggage was half-heartedly searched, and we picked up our Hertz car. Two interesting twists here: first you have to buy a 31-day St. Kitts temporary drivers license. No test is required, just that they copy down the info from your driver’s license and you give them $25. Just another mindless tourist fleecing these islands seem to be so good at. Maybe the US could learn from this---let’s tax the heck out of all incoming and outgoing tourists that are not American nationals. But then that would be un-American or would it. Second surprise was twofold, first they drive on the left here (like England) and second, our Honda Accord had the steering wheel on the passenger side. Jerry had experience driving on the left side, but never when the steering wheel was on the passenger side. So we loaded up the luggage, and timidly headed out into the St. Kitts traffic, all of us helping Jerry to stay to the left.

After a brief drive and only one wrong turn, we arrived at the St. Kitts Marriott Beach Club. We were heartily welcomed, and given a young fellow to escort us and haul our luggage to our room. This place was quite different than other Marriott Vacation Club we have been to in that it is attached to (actually part of) Marriott St. Kitts Resort and Royal Beach Casino. Therefore the lobby is quite bustling and busy. We arrived at our room, and were greeted by what we have come to expect from Marriott Vacation Clubs, very nice accommodations. (With a few exceptions I’ll get into later)

Our first surprise was that the grocery store was only open from 8-12 am. So we were out of luck there. The resort contained a few little shops, so Brenda and Jerry went off in search of necessities. Bless their hearts back they came with a big bottle of local sugar cane rum and some delicious fruity mixers. We were soon unpacked and down by the pool enjoying the trade winds. For dinner that night we availed ourselves of something called the Pizza Shack, which served pretty good individual pizzas, and an OK Caesar side salad. We then retired for the night planning our exploits for the next day.

What I have not spoken about here yet is the Internet access issue. All of the rooms were supposed to have wired Ethernet connections, of which our suite had 3. However no matter what plug I plugged into or what cord I used, it wasn’t there. So I called the “supposed to help you with everything” folks. They sent two different guys up with different cords, and then finally told me they must have a problem, the big I.T. guy wasn’t here, I should go to the business center and they’d give me some free time. Well I walked all the way to the business center (closing in 20 minutes) and the guy looked at me like I was crazy. He made some calls, and then told me to go back to my room and I would have wireless. I got back to the room (oh and all this involved walking back and forth about ½ a mile) tried the wireless and it didn’t work—wanted a code. So I called them back, and they said they could provide wireless, but it would be $20 for 24 hr. I promptly told them I wasn’t paying for something that was supposed to be free. So they sent another guy up and finally got me on wireless. Great---or not so. The only place the wireless works in the condo is out on the deck, and then doesn’t have enough power to upload anything, and barely read Email. So, tired of fooling with the stuff, I gave up and read a book till bedtime. It gets better.
More later,
Wes
challenge

Jet Blast at The Sunset Beach Bar

Last I wrote, we were headed for the Sunset Beach Bar to experience a uniquely local pastime involving the jet wash from huge jet planes. St. Maarten has only one active runway. 90% of the time the planes land and take off toward the mountains with the sea at their back. On the end of the runway where the planes start their take off is a narrow strip of public land outside the airport perimeter. This is where the Sunset Beach Bar is located. They have an old surfboard stuck in the ground outside the bar where they keep a list of all the landing and departure times. Also on the bar deck they have speakers so you can hear the conversations between the pilots and ground control. Landings are one particular sort of thrill. You stand directly in front of the runway and these huge planes hurtle toward you passing about 50 feet over your head. Looks like they are going to fly directly into where you are standing. The take offs are another thing entirely. Some brave souls have been known to hang on to the fence that demarcates the airport property. It’s said that one of the larger jets will actually blow them up so their feet are off the ground. We were not able to witness this particular type of lunacy. We did, however, get to see some brave young boys stand on the beach in the direct blast zone. When the jet started its take off run, they were pushed and then tumbled down the beach into the water. One young buck was able to save his beer but lost his camera in the process. It was sort of like a small Olympic sport, as all the patrons on the bar deck cheered for great performances.

One thing worth mentioning: while Vickie and I were sailing earlier, Jerry and Brenda strolled the boardwalk and had a wonderful lunch at one of the oldest hotels on St. Maarten, The Pasanggrahan Royal Guest House. They had Bell Pepper stuffed with Chicken Salad, and a Tomato stuffed with Tuna Salad, both presented on a bed of lettuce pepper rings and other greenery. They said the food service and ambience were wonderful, in spite of two cruise ships being in town. Since Jerry and Brenda had a late lunch, we just grabbed something at the McDonald’s drive though on the way home from sailing. Amazing McDonalds is pretty much the same everywhere, but it tasted like they still used the good (including trans fat and flavoring) grease to cook their French Fries. They tasted like the McDonald’s fries I remembered.

The next day, we set out on a circumnavigation of the island to see the French side. We drove all the way up the other coast, and saw the numerous beaches and vistas. This is truly a grubby little island with great scenery and beaches. They are taking in an immense amount of tourist taxes and fees, but very little of it is going into infrastructure. It is also the land of speed bumps. Almost every road you drive on has periodic speed bumps often tall enough to scrape the frame of the car. The locals use the speed bumps as sort of crazy passing zones. They wait for the tourists in their rental cars to slow for the speed bumps and then they fly by at high speed passing while ignoring the speed bumps. This must be a shock absorber salesman’s heaven. Oh and they have speed DIPS which as you can guess are the opposite of speed bumps. We decided they are even worse and they don’t paint any of the darn things yellow, dips or bumps. On the way home from the circumnavigation we stopped at the Boathouse Seafood Grill and Bar for a late lunch. The food turned out to be excellent. Jerry and I had Fish and Chips that we both agreed were some of the best ever, and the girls had wraps that they greatly enjoyed. Tomorrow we pack up and travel on to St. Kitts.
More later,
Wes

12 Meter Racing in St. Maarten

Well we were up bright and early yesterday morning to get ready for our sailing adventure. We donned scopolamine patches at the prescribed time to ward of the dreaded motion sickness. At Christmas, my daughter and her husband gave us a brown business envelope with a Xerox certificate in it. The certificate was for our participation in the St. Maarten 12meter challenge. We checked it out on the Internet, and it looked like great fun. (Also looked a little scary) But back in St. Maarten, we had it all planned, Jerry and Brenda were going to drive us down to the port and take pictures as we left. They would have fun in Phillipsburg while we were out sailing. We arrived in Phillipsburg a little early on purpose to be sure we had enough time to navigate the traffic and find Bobbies Marina where the sailing was headquartered. We drove past the tiny sign for Bobbies a couple times till we found the entrance to the parking lot. Once landed in the parking lot, we still had to ask directions to get to the 12meter shop. It was over there through the alley down to the water and turn left….but watch out cause they are paving down along the water. But undaunted, we found the place in plenty of time and a very nice lady, who knew my daughter from Email, accepted our certificate and told us we’d be heading out in about 30 minutes. We wandered around and then sat down out front to wait.

Soon a pontoon sort of boat pulled up and tied up at the dock. It said 72 passengers max, so we were a little confused. The nice lady told us it was big cause it had to take the 09:30 folks off the racing boats and put us on. We saw a young photographer and his yellow lab get into an inflatable boat and head out with great speed to the harbor, wondering what his mission was. Once again we were talking to the nice lady and she was telling us all about cruise ships and the tourism industry. She told us there were only 2 ships in today, and they could hold 4 at their dock. They are expanding their dock to hold as many as 6 ships. She said last year, they would often have 5 or 6 ships and two of them had to moor off shore, tendering their folks back and forth to the shore. (The cruise ships don’t like that because it’s too much expense and trouble) She also said they actually had 9 cruise ships in port at one time and it was insanity. So the cruise companies got together and adjusted sailing schedules so now 4 at a time is about the norm.

Back to the sailing: At the appointed time we loaded on the shuttle boat with 12 or so folks, and headed out. We waved and Jerry took pictures. Two minutes later we were pulling back into the dock and Jerry took pictures again. Jerry and Brenda cheered and asked how was it. We picked up some stragglers, and then left again. (Little did I know I was really glad we went back to get the 4 young boys that got on) Now we headed out into the port area seeing all the boats, cruise ships, beautiful cliff houses, and brilliant blue green water. Soon we pulled in again, but this time it was at the water taxi dock near the cruise ships. Here we got back off the shuttle and met the rest of our racing folks. A real great guy was there to tell us the whole history of America’s Cup Racing, and divide us into teams. Vickie and I got on the same team, and our team captain got to participate in the coin toss for boat preference. We all discussed it, and told her if she won the toss we wanted Stars and Stripes (Dennis Conner’s winning boat from 1987). We won the toss and got Stars and Stripes. Then we got back on the shuttle boat, now sitting as two teams. They encouraged us to trash talk the other team and start getting our team spirit together. Later he came around and assigned us jobs for our up coming race. We had our choice of “active, semi active, or non active” jobs. Vickie and I both said we would try anything. I didn’t know at the time but Vickie whispered to Ron the job guy “Don’t put the man behind me(Wes) near a rope because he tangles extension cords badly” She ended up as the Main Sheet Trimmer with tangly ropes reporting directly to the captain. (Perfectly suited to her cause she is good with ropes and keeping them untangled) I ended up as a galley slave, better known as a Primary Grinder. (According to the crew on real race boats they use NFL linemen as grinders because of their strength and quickness) I’m sure he picked me for my strength and quickness.

Soon a delicate ballet started to get the shuttle “barge” alongside the greyhound like sailing vessels. We were safely secured along side our race boat, and we transferred off the earlier crew, and we climbed aboard. The ballet was repeated for the Canada II, which was the boat we were to race.

While they got the Canada II loaded up and for the rest of trip out to the race starting point, our crew (Captain, Mate and 1st Mate) taught us how to crew a 12meter boat. Vickie had to learn how to loosen or tighten the rope around her drum winch, which allowed the main sail sheet to go in and out. She had two Main Grinders to power her winch pulling it in. I was introduced to the job of Primary Grinder. The Primary Grinders supply the power for 2 winches, one on either side of the boat, which put tension on the jib (sail in the front). What we had to do is take orders from both of the mates, and when they told us, 4 people working together grabbed these rotating handles and cranked like hell in one of 3 “gears”. Luckily it was me 2 young boys from Brazil, and a young girl. These two young boys were part of the four we went back to pick up at the dock. Otherwise, it would have been me, the girl, and couple of old women as Primary Grinders. Of course you had to do all this cranking while bracing your feet at crazy angles as the boat heeled from side to side. To quote myself “It was more fun than fun”. The Captain would yell “tacking” which would be followed by a whole bunch of frantic grinding, ropes flying around and a big whomp as the sails took up the strain on the other side of the boat. At the coaching and encouragement of our Captain (His name was Captain Morgan----really) we started whooping and cheering when we got off a good sharp maneuver. Me and the other grinders started making great growling noises as we sprang to our work, and life was good. We had a perfect day, not too hot, waves not too huge, and 18 to 20 knots of wind. We tacked back and forth in front of the starting line maneuvering for position on the other boat. (I learned that the boat on the port tack has the right of way)

We had a good clean start, and began tacking back and forth on our 1st upwind leg. Even though they told us 20 to 22 knots was as fast as we’d be going today, it seemed we were flying over the water. We were pretty much in a dead heat at the end of the first leg, and rounded the marker smartly. We started the downwind leg, and they told the Primaries to take a break on this leg, which involve a cold beer that went down in about 4 swallows and never tasted so good. Half way through the downwind leg, Canada II passed us and the Captain decided to tack off for some better winds. (Surprising the Primary Grinders) Beer cans and water bottles hit the floor as we sprang to the task. We picked up some better wind, and were slightly ahead rounding the second marker. As we turned back up wind, we began a tacking duel with Canada II and I thought my arms were going to fall off. But every tack we were gaining on them, and one time we came so close to the other boat our Captain caught the perfect wave and put tons of water in the other boats cockpit. We had one more leg to go, and the Captain let our team captain choose the turn direction. He asked us if we had another tacking run in us and received a resounding yes, so we went for it. At times the sides of the boat were down almost to the water, but we were flying, and as we approached the official boat we did one last lightening tack, and ended up on the inside with the shortest distance to the finish line. We won by about 6 feet, and what a feeling. My arms were burning and the mate told us we just did about an hour, the real racers go for about 6 hours. Wish I’d discovered this when I was young. Vickie did a great job with her sheet trimming, as the Captain called out “Vickie sweetheart, give me 2 feet out” or “Vickie give me 20 feet out quickly”. By the end of the race it was mostly “Sweetheart”. She had a very difficult job, and handled it with precision.

After the race and a brief celebration, we went back into port and tied up to a mooring. We were the last race of the day. They offered if we wanted to go swimming, over the side was fine, they had a rope ladder to get back up. I didn’t think my walrus self could navigate a rope ladder, but Vickie went it. Turns out getting back up the rope ladder was pretty tough but the crew were good sports and helped Vickie make the climb. Soon we boarded the tender for the trip back to shore. We stopped by the shop for a complimentary Rum Punch, and some souvenirs. Turned out the photographer with the dog in the boat worked for them, and we bought a great picture from him of us at work on the boat as crew. That along with T-shirts that designate us as Stars and Stripes US-55 crewmembers 2009 topped off the day. If we ever return to race again and wear our 2009 T-shirts we will each get a free T-shirt for that race. Jerry and Brenda were there to pick us up, and we headed home via the Sunset Bar. The Sunset Bar is an outdoor bar at the end of the runway at the airport. Everyone comes there to experience the jet blast from the departing jets, but that’s another story. Regards from Paradise,
More later,
Wes