Hitchhiking

Hitchiking

I haven’t hitched a ride since I was in college.  Yesterday, I needed three, along with two taxis, to run my errand.

So, the background is this.  We continue to live on a damaged keel.  We’ve done a little sailing but very little, out of caution -- and apparently against the insurance company’s unvoiced preferences (I failed the last time I tried to read someone’s mind).    Late last week we learned that the insurance adjustors would prefer that we not sail at all until it is replaced.  Their fear is that one particular “slice of the outer skin” is exposed and could flop off and damage things like the propeller or the rudder.  (I have been diving the boat every day and each time I check this flap of fiberglass skin, I cannot even wiggle it…but I’m just the owner and the insurance people have become our dictates for another two weeks.)

Marney and I decided that I should try to meet the latest insurance person, in-person.  Thus the reason for a trip yesterday to his office about ten miles away.

Before I remark on the trip itself, here is an update on the keel.  We have purchased a new keel.  We have paid for it to be crated and shipped.  It is traveling on the Caribbean’s primary carrier:  Tropical Shipping.  We have a tracking number.  (NOTE: If you’re really curious you can google Tropical Shipping and type in 11953695.)  The “package” was received last Tuesday (15^th) at 11:30 in the morning, it was loaded onto the vessel at 8:30 pm on Wednesday (16^th), and the vessel sailed at 11:00pm that evening.  Pretty cool.  Nothing new since then but I think some update is due in the next day or so.

So, the new keel is on its way.  We have arranged a work crew to do the replacement, led by the man who is the boat yard manager for the Moorings Charter Company and has overseen hundreds of these keel replacements.  We have a date to haul the boat, Friday April 1^st at 7:00am and a date to launch again on Monday April 4^th at 1:00pm. 

On my trip to Nanny Cay, I couldn’t find the surveyor/adjustor in question.  But I found the surveyor we have worked with before.  He first saw the pictures and helped us think through this little problem.  He said, “Why not remove the flap of keel? That’s the only thing I see that could possibly concern the insurance company.” So, we have now arranged for a diver to slice off this section of the hard fiberglass skin and we are hoping we can sail with friends between now and HAULOUT day!

So…back to hitchhiking.

In 1968, I was in college, having a date with a girl in a city about three hours away.  And an over-the-road-18-wheel-big-rig trucker stopped.  He gave me a lift in exchange for help unloading the last of his cargo.  He dropped me within ten miles of the campus and I was able to find a last ride back to school.  That was nearly forty years ago.

Yesterday, I started my trip with a $3.00 taxi/bus to town.  In the mini-van was an elderly gentleman and we started talking.  Turns out he is the Philosophy Professor at the Lavity Stout Community College, the only college on the island.  He was on his way to the airport to meet a friend to discuss a book. 

I rode the taxi to the end of the line in Road Town.  Then I walked to the far side of the downtown, past the ferry dock and started sticking out the old thumb.  Actually, the “sign” for notifying a cab or paid ride is to flatten your hand parallel to the ground and move it downward.  But it’s not far from that hand motion to recalling your four fingers and simply hold up your thumb.  It felt a little odd partly because my 40-year old memory keeps telling me to use the right thumb, but here, where driving is different, you use the left thumb.   And I didn’t have high expectations about catching a ride – it was something to do until the next bus/taxi came by.

However, at the edge of town, ten minutes later I was offered a ride from Lawrence McKoy.  I got in and we started talking in those opening generalities.  I learned that Lawrence works as a “joiner” and was headed to work, about 100 yards away from my destination.  A joiner is someone who does woodworking on boats, by the way.  Lawrence builds cabinets, repairs shelving, etc.  He is from Haiti, has three children, has been in the BVI for 16 years, but his children are all back in Haiti.  He last went home two years ago, but will go this coming June for his youngest child’s (daughter) high school graduation.  He learned similar things about me – three children and my upcoming 50^th high school reunion in late September.  And before we parted company I was given his business card and learned that between he and his wife, she misses Haiti the more. 

After my efforts to meet up with the surveyor at the large marina complex was met with partial success, I walked back to the road and stuck out the old thumb again.  (this thumbing is a bit more necessary because few taxis drive this section of the roads…and even fewer buses.)  About five minutes later, another young man stopped and took me back to Road Town.  His name is Richard Georges, and I learned he is originally from Trinidad, his parents moved here when he was young, but he doesn’t consider himself a native (“belonger”).  (Or maybe the true natives/belongers don’t consider anyone not born on this island in this category.)  Richard teaches English Literature at the community college.  I mentioned the philosophy teacher I had met (didn’t get his name), but Richard immediately knew who he is.  Richard’s interest is in the cultural evolution of life on the BVI, he writes poetry and is one of two founding editors of Moko Magazine.  (From the website:) “Moko is an online journal based in the Virgin Islands that publishes new works by writers and artists from or based in the Caribbean. We publish fiction, poetry, essays, criticism, photography, painting, and other visual media.“  (NOTE: if you’re really curious, google “mokomagazine.org” and check out the latest issue from Nov/Dec 2015.   It looks to be a great read!)  Richard was on his way to the library (on a Saturday) to do research on a book or poem, and we had a delightful conversation.  Trying to appear erudite, I told him I was currently reading Joseph Conrad’s Typhoon.  He seemed impressed – sort of.  A second ride and a second great visit with a stranger.

So then, I took a long walk to the Moorings Base, found the boat yard manager and we had a quick conversation about the upcoming haulout.  I caught my second $3.00 taxi/bus and took it to the new Home Depot-like store by the name of Clarence Thomas Supercenter.  Every time I hear that name I think of our Supreme Court Justice and wonder if he isn’t a business entrepreneur on the side.  I picked up a one-foot long chisel.  You never know the tools you are going to need on a fiberglass boat.  Then I headed back to the road to catch my last taxi/bus.  Only before one arrived, I had the old thumb out.

This time I was offered a lift by Augustina Cello Zambrano.  She was originally from Argentina but the politics there were so awful that her parents moved to Uruguay when she was a child.  She grew up in Uruguay, became a lawyer, and was on her way to the airport to pick up her boss.  She works for a small trust office here.  She was young-looking enough that I blinked when she said she had three grown children in Miami.  When I told her about my background – including German and Russian Jewish folks, she said, “I know.”  She said there are many Wassermans in Argentina/ Uruguay, her ex-husband is Jewish, and I’m sure she would have a fascinating story or two about the Jewish community there.  She talked about being a “free bird” and didn’t know how long she would stay here, but she loved living in the islands.  And she took me right to the parking lot of the marina.  I left with another business card because “you never know when you need a lawyer”. 

Quiet and kindly Lawrence.  Thoughtful and creative Richard.  Happy and carefree Augustina.  Imagine!

Lots of people will ask where I’m from.  They assume I’m a tourist and most are noticeably surprised when I say we have been living here for seven months on a boat.  I think much of the curiosity about us is the reassurance that island tourism still works. 

But I am fascinated by the way life unfolds.  I didn’t completely resolve the latest keel challenge, though I came home with a good plan we’re pursuing.   The hitchhiking was the best part of my day.   I have no idea what about my appearance led these three interesting folks to stop and give me a lift (HE looks harmless enough).   I think it’s life on a small island.  Can’t imagine doing this in some large city – anywhere.   Maybe it’s non-Belongers looking out for each other (obviously I’m one).  I remember Augustina talking about how she celebrates Christmas with other ex-pats.   

Regardless, I had three great conversations with three interesting people.

It takes a chunk of the extrovert in me to hitch a ride -- to sit as a guest in someone else’s car and open up and ask questions -- but the rewards can be so great!  I’m glad we’re here, bashed-up keel and all, and look forward to some other ways God will surprise us in these coming days.

And…

(Even though I’m not back on the water yet)

Fair winds and calm seas, friends.

Dave

PS Yesterday, Palm Sunday March 20, the diver used a hacksaw to cut the fiberglass flap into pieces.  We tried to jigsaw the pieces together, but with not much success.  We spoke with the insurance agent and we’re good to go! 

The blue chunks are the fiberglass and the three brown chunks are the foam filler