It was two weeks ago yesterday since we entered this safe, welcomed harbor. There were 4 maybe 5 other boats at anchor. We drove around surveying the surroundings to select the spot where we wanted to live. Over these weeks a community has formed. There are now over 30 transient boats living here. A few vessels have arrived and departed but there is a core of us who have come to know about each other. What we know is incomplete and sometimes random but it gives an identity none-the-less. Sometimes it’s the captain’s name or their hailing port or the repairs needed to make ready to set out once again. There is a 57’ vessel with an 8 and a 10 year old aboard who are being home schooled (boat schooled) and another badly damaged vessel that came in under tow that is right now trying to determine their course of action. And there are those we have come to know with more detail. There are the two single-handlers who over the course of this past year have made a friendship that has followed them to distant ports. They have shared charts with us and knowledge and their playfulness… We have introduced them to Jack and Marcia and the family grows. At night instead of the porch light we see the sparkle of the white anchor lights atop the masts, or with some of the smaller boats, the white light of a lantern hanging from the boom. I was surprised at how this made me feel a sense of belonging.And then there is the town. Let me tell you about Flea. The picture would be incomplete without knowing this yellow, plump goddess of a cat that knows more people than I will probably ever know in my lifetime. She confidently trots about the streets, stopping when she gets the slightest bit of attention. Apparently the locals know her well and we passers through soon learn of her distinction. Folks call her by name and she responds. One evening before we knew her whole story we met a couple that had just come across town followed by “a friendly cat” – later to be known was Flea. The couple was flattered by the attention and when they were heading back home they called “kitty” and she went along with them. I heard one older dignified lady with an English accent stop and stoop down in the middle of the square rubbing Flea’s belly and speaking to her as if she had just met up with a long lost friend. It is impossible to not be drawn into this scene.
Marcia and I decided to mask the unpleasantness of doing laundry by doing it together! Jack and Dan helped us lug the bags to the Laundromat and left us there to do other errands. The place was hopping with most of the washers and all of the dryers spinning non-stop. Because of the volume it was necessary to empty stopped dryers into the rolling baskets. The attendant was busy with the “dropped off” bags of dirty clothes. The first dryer I emptied was full of towels and it seemed like a good thing to fold them before they got wrinkled. Marcia did the same. Before long the attendant, Zena, realized what we were doing. She was full of gratitude and verbalized our good deed to anyone within earshot. Zena looked after us, too, and a couple of times she added time to our dryers. It made for a playful afternoon at the Laundromat.
And so it goes… life aboard Gypsy in St. George’s harbor. Everyone is not cut out for this life. Making do with what we have aboard with minimal chance to get necessary parts is standard. No mail yet with our roller furler part but Dan has improvised replacements. Essential strangers reach out to one another with a generosity that is not always evident in busy lives. We have been offered parts out of our neighbor’s stock of spares. Neighbors travel to each other’s vessels to assist with mechanical problems. I overheard Kennedy offering a replacement flagpole to Jack and Marcia. Finding the commonality in our compatriots, as well as their uniqueness, is the richness of each day. I had expected to find the value of this journey in the cultures of the countries that we visit; I have been humbled to learn that I can start right here with my fellow cruisers.
