sky2

After much ado, we are here in the wee hours of the morning bound for O'hare airport in Chicago. It is an airport I've been to countless times, each time an adventure, and a gateway to even bigger adventures.

I was telling Mark about the time Danny drove me into O 'Hare... how Danny kept telling me "not to worry"-I would get there on-time, how I told him to take my bags, how I sprinted all they way to the gate, and the jet started moving as soon as I sat down. I remember there was no one in line to check in...I thought I was in trouble...I also remember a kind soul on that plane-she offered me a stick of gum, and the gesture was more marvelous than it seems.

So-here I am with Mark Dauenbaugh and we are taking the journey of a lifetime. I would never have thought of going there before I met him, so it is because him that I am on this bus right here right now.

We have an ambitious itinerary: Rockford to Chicago to Baltimore to Miami to San Juan to Grenada, staying at Miami overnight. Then going back: Grenada to Barbados to Miami to Chicago and then...finally Rockford after two nights in Miami....insane, eh?

Day two

Everything worked out. I got us through Chicago, Miami, and San Juan and did an excellent job supplying the paperwork necessary for travel purposes.I felt so efficient.

We amused ourselves this morning by watching the high traffic flow of people coming and going to Miami: buses, cars, taxis, vans and shuttles all moving through with the guidance of a street patrol...almost like air traffic controllers.but of course with none of the glory or prestige in such work. Yet, if this man didn't control the traffic, I guess the air traffic controller would be out of a job... Got to keep the masses moving...

Perched up on the front of the ship tonight and was amazed... to look up and see the sails and there are so many ropes I can't imagine what they all do...

A goddess of poetry
came up from the sea
to shake my hand
and seduce my muse.
The two of them
go round and round: a halo
of sparks and light,
a whirlwind moving through
playing the games
poetry plays and all I know
is to chase them.
Slippery as they are,
I will never hold them,
but still i run --
because that is what i do.

I think this is going to be the kind of trip

I'll never forget.

Day three

Grenada: I saw it's back alleys and ghettos, the richer residential homes, the post office, a little shoebox of a building where people come to collect their mail. I refused street vendors and taxis and finally chose a man who showed me all different types of Grenada: happy, hungry, torn, healed and broken. There are many peaks and valleys, water falls, trees, flora and fauna. And then there is the ocean... the Caribbean Sea. OMG - the water is so clear - and 800 feet deep in places we cruised by today.

The houses are on stilts for the rainy season, but they slide when the earth turns to mud...and it does just that.

The ship cradles me - rocks me like a baby... this ship takes care of me.

The ocean is a turquoise blue-and a fine and dazzling emerald green in places. A few flying fish skim the water. And I believe the air bubbles of dolphins--many dolphins, but that's not for surly certain.

How does the ocean affect me? Well, feel connected to it - as if the brine was calling me home: spirit to spirit: the ocean and me. It almost feels like I'm on another planet in some other realm of truth-I have discovered a whole new dimension in a three-dimensional world.

What would happen
if all my poetry
fell into the sea?
Would I cry or be relieved?
Would it do magic,
float on the surface
as a flying fish, or drop
as an anchor heading
for the bottom?
Would it feel
the crush of the waves?
Would it choke
on the salt and the brine?
Would it drift under
the belly of a ship,
or swim past portholes
with the legs of a crab?
Would it wash ashore
five or fifty years from now?
Would my poetry
find me somehow?

We saw the tree that produces pods of the cocoa bean, bought some raw chocolate, tried spiced rum chased with water, bought a bottle for $14. I saw nutmeg split open, the pit (mace) covered with a thin red membrane. I saw mango and banana trees, ate a banana for breakfast that tasted the way bananas are supposed to taste.

Day five

Yesterday was a day for Bequia. Captain Earl took us around the island in his speed boat. For most of the day, on one side were rocky islands, on other, the Caribbean Sea stretching into a seamless eternity. We had to walk a sort of wannabe path to Beliene Falls. I made it through with Mark's help. I went all the way. I'm sitting on quarter deck now, watching the waves rolling out... how can a monotony of waves be so exciting to watch?

Mostly, we went around in his speed boat at 50 mph.. .as a fellow passenger says, "We were hauling butt." I just leaned into the curves-I could have put my hand in the water, but didn't think that would be advisable...

Day six

Okay-now yesterday...

Sailors sure are opinionated...eh?

Captain Marty took us the island of Mustique-lush, beautiful, but thirsty looking. We ate lunch at The Firefly-a very luxurious, up-scale place. At least the exchange rate helps us out around here.

I asked the captain if he thinks fish feel pain and he said, "Nature would be pretty cruel to let them feel pain..." He believes they have a system that shuts down-such as when people go into trouble and end up dying of shock, in reaction to trauma. He says whales and dolphins are different-that they have more substantial brains and nervous systems... whales are even mammals.

Jamie and her fiancée decided to stay on the Passion when we were dropped off at the Yankee Clipper...they make me sick anyway. Perfection never lasts-it always comes undone-sorry, but we live in a dirty world and chaotic and ugly. Don't get me wrong. I believe that people can love, but not that exuding, public, dreamy, fairytale-ish love or idea of love that they demonstrate. . .

We caught a good sized tuna...

He talked about a whale that had beached itself and some do-gooders rescued it and it exploded on the bed of a truck... whale guts everywhere.rotting whale innards. I asked him if he would have known that the whale would have to be cleaned and gutted before putting the whale on the truck or else something like that would happen, and he said of course. He laughed at the people thinking they could rescue the whale, when they knew nothing about what they were trying to do. It was, to him, humor along the lines of city slickers. . .

So we returned to the ship after a quick swim on Macaroni Beach and an island tour of Mustique-came back to the Clipper exhausted. We ate superbly and went to bed...

Today, well today, isn't over yet-we are at full sail and headed to a beach.

Mark and I went on the beach and spent a lot of time in the water. I lay on the floating mat and he took me around while he swam. We had some great fun...it was a romantic, special time-by the time I know and accept where in this world I actually am, it will be time for me to go home-where I shall have to learn all over again.

I'm stupefied for words to describe this place-it's miraculous, rnagical, arnazing, awesome. It cannot be described how beautiful this place is. The sea is so clear, the sand so pure. The color of the sea runs from cobalt blue and turquoise to indigo and emerald green.

Day seven

This morning, we traveled to the beach at Mayreau Island.. .supposedly, the best beach was on the other side of the mountain, but we tried the hike, and the incline was very steep, and Mark was barefoot on the concrete-very, very hot. So we made it almost to the top, and cut our losses...i.e., we turned around...and the beach we taxied into was fine and suited our purposes just fine.

We floated on the blue mat for a couple of hours-and ate very little salt water although we almost lost our sandals in the strong ebb and flow of the waves-I'm not sure which force was stronger-I just know that the waves coming in and going out could knock me on my butt.. .and they did a few times-and so even though I was initiated in the art of body surfing at Macaroni Beach, I'm still learning my lessons--eh? Oye, Oye!

The passengers just assisted in raising the sails. The crew makes it look so easy.

Day eight

We saw whales yesterday afternoon-saw them blowing, but not breeching...a whole squad of them. They were pretty far off from the ship, but I saw them-that's the closest I ever came to one - and so it goes.

I never did get a chance to see the green flash.

Supposedly,

when the sun goes down

and falls into the Caribbean sea,

there is a quick burst of green light.

Speak to me:
Tell me your secrets
about the ebb and flow of your tides
and whether or not the moon
ever gets in your way.
Show me your turquoise peaks,
your cobalt blue depths,
let me hear the dolphin chatter,
the whale's breath
and his song of himself.
Spit up your sand dollars,
your sea urchins and all of the beauties
of your coral reefs.
Tell me your tales---the ones
that will make me wise;
I promise to listen
to each of them,
to pray over them,
and to worship God.

Have I written about all of the strays down here? Well, they hardly ever get fresh water and all of them are dehydrated. Another thing, there are many pregnant or nursing dogs and this one little pup 1 saw was taking a lickin' at the beach.. .for walking up to a tourist. He yelped so miserably that my heart broke.then she put him in a cardboard box and hit him whenever he peeked out... very sad...

Day nine

I dreamed about that dog last night-she drank salt water at the shore, but in my dream, the water was fresh and all the other animals got to drink too, but the people all thought it was salty. Even the natives didn't know the water was fresh-though all the strays knew and told each other and carne far and wide for a drink.

And so our vacation is winding down. . .

We have taken six rolls of film... we are still sleep-deprived...but there is a path along the river we plan to walk...and maybe we shall try out that pool.my shoulder is starting to peel a bit...so if we go out, I will have to wear some sun blocking lotion...I have a good tan going-I definitely have had enough sun to show everyone at home that I was here-that's my best souvenir.

***

We are sitting here on a veranda in Miarni. Mark has designated today as "catch up day," meaning that it's a day to catch up, to sum up, to collate the whole trip, a time to let fantasy catch up to reality... we are finally able to stand still and kick back and let Monday come to us.

We weren't escaping, we only wanted to open our worlds to other ways of life, and the Grenadines certainly have unique ways of life-pirates are now taxi drivers, the shops open at three, and the islanders seem to drink a lot of rum or at least they like to watch Americans do so.

We see that what we have isn't perfect, but it certainly works for us.. .just like Sylvester's life works for him...a young man sailing free on the Caribbean sea-with a hobby of making dolphin necklaces to sell to people he meets.

My favorite part was drifting along in the sea. Two people alone in such infinite space, lost in our own world where no one can reach us...drifting, drifting freely, almost as free as Sylvester...for a while. All I needed was a taste of it. We get this life at home in our own way-such as when we decide not to answer the door or the phone, when we go to Great America without telling anyone, when we decide to go to a special place for dinner.

It's strange to look behind and see all then oceans, rivers, creeks, and lakes I've journeyed to get to this point...I've tasted my share of salt and have come through many rough waters. There have been times when I didn't know if I was going to make it...I've swam, floated, almost sunk, almost drowned, but mostly, I've been kicking and paddling with my arms. I've treaded deep waters, and I've done more than survived-I have lived gloriously all the way through.

My Carribean Journey