And Now You Know

.... the rest of the story.

On the 27th we sailed north. To the north of Carriacou there is a small island which is part of Grenada proper, Petite Martinique, and past that a private island. You could tell it was a private island because all the boats were suddenly eight times as big and ten years newer. We anchored in water that was like a swimming pool, clear all the way down, like cerulean liquid crystal.

We went snorkelling around the corner of the island and saw strange and colourful fish, lots of coral (including some that I refer to as 'pumpernickel coral'), and plants. The water was incredibly clear and you could get within five feet of this stuff. Amazing.

The next day we sailed back down south, planning on being in Grenada for my birthday. Since we'd gone north around the west side of the island, this time we went to the east, all the way down and around and back to Hog Island. It was a much better sail from the point of view of my stomach; the keys are, face forwards, don't try to read, and keep yourself somewhere the air can get to you.

For my birthday my in-laws picked up two lobsters, one 3-lbs and one 3.5. The lobsters in question were different than the ones we get here, with spiny shells, big horns over their eyes, and no claws. Instead of claws they had a thick-based and very long set of feelers covered with spikes.

The birthday dinner was scrumptious. I got lots of good presents. Good times were had.

On the last full day we had in the south, we went for a tour of the island. We had a bus to ourselves, which was nice.

I should explain about the busses.

When I hear 'bus', I think of a big, diesel-powered mass transit system. The Grenadan bus sits in the environmental niche between this sort of vehicle and a traditional taxi-cab. They are large, high-ceilinged vans, invariably of Japanese origin, reasonably new if festooned with colourful decals of a typically religious flavour and equipped with numerous extra seats of somewhat dubious safety certification. These busses are driven around the island on predictable circuits and you can go as far as you like for $3.50 EC, which works out to a little under two bucks.

My lovely wife's parents arranged this form of transportation for the day and we took advantage of it to tour the island. We visited a rum factory, and bought some spiced rum punch; we checked out some waterfalls; we bought stuff from local craftsmen; we got pictures of ourselves at Leaper's Point. It was a great day and a great way to see the island from a more local point of view.

Our last day we went for one last swim in the sea, then packed our bags and headed to shore -- shore being, of course, a bar. We picked up the lambi roti's we had arranged for and then off to the airport for us.

The final count for myself was 14 swims in the sea, 13 books read (and one short story), 3 islands visited, 3 or 4 snorkel swims, 1 scuba dive, and a metric ton of rum, wine and beer.

It was an amazing vacation and it was non-stop fantastic right up until we got on the plane to come home. That, in retrospect, I now see was a mistake.

We passed through security pretty easily, did a bit of shopping in the terminal (gates 1-4 being, basically, a set of doors in one wall labelled "1" through "4") and then sat down to a beer.

The plane servicing Grenada flies from Toronto to Grenada and then back again. It blew its arrival time due to storms in Toronto. Once it had arrived, after my lovely wife and some other folks were paged to come have a look at our luggage, they decided to apply yet more security, apparently because some idiot lit his underwear on fire this one time. Why they couldn't have done this when we went through security, or at any point during the hour we were waiting for the plane, I don't understand. But, like all airport security anywhere ever, it accomplished its one and only possible end, which was to impose delay.

We got on our plane and taxied out to the runway and ... waited. And waited. And then went back to the terminal, because our exit slot had been bumped 45 minutes because of congestion over Puerto Rico, and also now we needed to top up on fuel.

We eventually did take off, and then flew a round-about path back to Canada, skirting the edge of a massive area of turbulence. Even the edge-bits we were getting weren't in any sense smooth. I watched the Bruce Willis move 'Surrogates', quick review: fun movie, not much substance there, good work on makeup/SFX making the surrogates look mostly human but just slightly artificial and creepy.

We were supposed to have a little over an hour to get to our connecting flight in Toronto. We arrived well after it was supposed to have left. Pearson was a mess, with lots of missed connections and people not knowing where they were supposed to be going, and more than a few idiots bitching about how hard done by they were in particular (the poor princesses).

We had the option of putting into a hotel for the night or trying to catch a plane to Ottawa that was scheduled to leave at 12:15, and since they told us this at 12:05 that seemed like long odds, but I volunteered to try to make it. We hauled ass and managed to get there in time ... only to wait, so that a planeload of people from Saskatchewan could also be accomodated. By the time we took off our estimated arrival in Ottawa was now about 2am.

We had stayed in a nearby hotel the night before we'd left, and left the car there, since we could get a free shuttle-bus back when we got home. That shuttlebus doesn't run between 2 and 4 am. Consequently, when at about 2:45 we'd arrived and retrieved our bags, we were stuck taking a cab, just like roughly half the population of metropolitan Ottawa, all of whom were now in line ahead of us. We did eventually get a cab and get to the hotel, and then had to chisel a half inch of ice off my car, and then drive home. The Rocket did fantastic work keeping our driveway clear but it had been snowing all night and the snowplow obligingly filled in the end of our driveway for us, so we had to break out the shovels and get that out of the way. Final time in bed: 4:45.

Christ, I feel tired just writing about it.

Anyway, the trip was fantastic overall, wacky coming-home-related hijinx notwithstanding. I have lots of pictures that I'm going to host on one of these new-fangled internet picture gallerias. I'll drop a link once I get that done.