Grenada
12.04325˚ N, 61.74750˚ W
The “sporty” beam wind we were seeing along the northeat coast of South America slowly moved to our stern and then fizzled out, and we ended up motoring during our final night at sea. The moon was out, and we could see the lights of Tobago. In the morning – after a pancake breakfast provided by Dan – we set about cleaning Coda‘s deck and cockpit, including taking the covers off all the cushions and washing them with soap and water to get the salt out.
As we approached St. George’s Harbor in Grenada, there was a nice fresh breeze, so we unfurled the genoa and tacked our way into the harbor (Coda is fast, but she is not rigged for racing, so tacking is actually a pretty slow, painful process). We dropped anchor in 15 meters of water on the outer edge of a mooring field, roughly a quarter-mile off shore.
Wes’s family had asked that they have a chance to get to the dock to greet Coda as she arrived, so we completed our tidying activities, went for a bit of a swim, then got out all the fenders and docklines that had been stowed deep in the bow lockers when we were in Cape Town an eon ago.
We got word that welcoming committee was nearly to the marina. Wes hailed Port Louis on the radio to let them know we were on our way, then we weighed anchor and motored into an inner harbor known as The Lagoon.
There were staggeringly massive yachts tied up near the entrance to The Lagoon, including the world’s largest privately owned sailing catamaran Hemisphere. Coda felt downright petite in comparison.
Wes’s wife, his parents and his friends Jeff and Nancy were waiting for us as we found our spot at the end of E dock. Hugs and tears and congratulations were had all around. We welcomed everyone aboard, and we sat and talked in the cockpit for a few minutes before disembarking and heading to a nearby restaraunt for dinner.
Grenada has much more of a party vibe than any of our previous stops, but everyone was more inclined to turn in early for the evening. So far, everyone says they’ve had the best night of sleep since they left home, so apparently docklines have quite a soothing effect on a sailor’s subconscious.
