Sea Stars and Soursop.
Every swim this week is a new one for us, as we’ve never run a trip here before. Often we’d scout a location like this first, sending a guide or two on a mission to find good swimming spots, partners on the ground, check out the grocery stores, stuff like that. We skipped all of that this time because we have Captain Jason. He knows both what we do and how we do it at SwimVacation as well as the ins and outs of these islands. He’s been suggesting swimming locations for us all week, and we’ve taken his advice every time. I can’t express how valuable this is to us.
We woke on our mooring off of Sandy Island, ready for a big swim. Jason dropped us off about 1.5 miles from the town pier at Carriacou, then followed along offshore. I started us off on a brisk pace to get some water behind us, then we fell into a more relaxed pace as we swam over lots of bright orange sea stars, the inspiration for SwimVacation’s logo. Heather sensed we needed to mix things up a bit, so we formed a Conga line. The lead swimmer takes 80 strokes before dropping to the back. Everyone behind the lead swimmer benefits from the drag, and it makes the yards go by quickly. We climbed aboard Antares tired but satisfied from a swim that turned into about 2 miles.
We were out of ice and bananas, and curious about this little town at Carriacou, so we dinghied to the pier. A set of comically unstable steps led up from dinghy dock to to the pier, and from there we explored the streets. One word describes this place perfectly, I think: charming. Faded pink and blue buildings with tin roofs lined the beach, sturdier structures lined the back streets. It was lunch hour, and the workers streamed out of the banks and government offices (think dozens of people, not hundreds). Little retail stands were everywhere, mostly with little old ladies selling colorful fruits and vegetables they’d grown in their backyards, jars of sauces and candies they’d made in their kitchen, as well as things like toothpaste and toilet paper. I bought something from all of them. We all gathered on some steps and traded bites of the goods we’d purchased. I love this stuff. Heather dropped in to the local phone carrier’s stores to try to figure out our wifi woes while I got some smoothies for us. These islanders have a way with smoothies, it’s uncanny. Heather was able to figure out the wifi problem by speaking with our carrier’s competitor. Success!
The fish market displayed barracuda, snapper, parrotfish, and a massive yellowfin tuna that was being sliced up as we walked in. Miriam had given me the go-ahead to purchase some fish for dinner, so I bought 4 pounds of tuna in 2 big steaks and a pound of conch. Before heading back to our yacht, I spied a big green bottle of local cooking sauce at one of these little stands. The woman told me it was made with thyme, peppers, ginger, and probably another dozen ingredients I’d never heard of. I poured it in the plastic bag holding the tuna, and put the whole thing in a cooler. We also came back with soursop, golden apples (not really apples), coconut scones, hot peppers, onions, nutmeg syrup, calalloo (a leafy vegetable), 2 bags of tiny limes, tamarind balls, and other assorted chewy tropical things.
We moved to a spot on the north side of Carriacou, behind a barrier reef that held an old rusty shipwreck. We’ve been laying low in the middle of the day, when it’s really hot out. Around 4pm we jumped in for a swim to the wreck and back. The conditions were what we call “sporty”, with a stiff breeze and a 2 foot chop. We charged. Looking at the wind, we figured the swim back would be a lot easier. Once at the wreck, we had a chance to check this thing out. A big rusty hulk, kind of creepy. Waves smashed through it, and large parts of the ship had caved in on itself. We headed back to the yacht, ready for the waves to push us home with ease. Not the case. Turns out there was a current against us. Miriam and Melinda put their heads down and charged, even when five strokes got us nowhere. I actually had to look behind us to make sure we were making progress and putting distance between us and the wreck. We were, though it didn’t feel like it. Finally back at Antares, we flopped aboard, proud of our effort.
Jason moved us to a little cove off Petit St. Vincent, another one of the Grenadine Islands (though technically across the border). We made some cocktails with the limes and the nutmeg syrup we’d found in town. Chef Miriam made an amazing Ceviche with the conch. I stuck the tuna in the oven for 15 minutes, and Zack plated it with Miriam’s rice and broccoli. There’s nothing like being on a boat, eating local food with friends.
Another nighttime splash cooled off the deckhand and the guides, sending us to dream of sea stars and soursop fruit.
Hopper