A Fish Out of Water

Kalunamoo was hauled out of Chaguaramas Bay, Trinidad four days ago. We elected to sail from Prickly Bay, Grenada, a week earlier than planned as the weather looked right and we could use the extra time at Power Boats Boat Yard for boat work.

That completed voyage 16. We’ll spend a few weeks here setting up some boat work with Ali, the primary vendor for most of the work. Refinishing the cockpit enclosure, some new woodwork for storage under the floorboards, hull cosmetic work and applying anti-fouling to the bottom will be his major work. Raymond will address a dripping hydraulic steering pump, and loose engine control cables. Sean will do some canvas repair, Johnathan will service the outboard, and I will do some plumbing work to enable our refrigeration to work while on the hard. The reefer unit uses a water cooling system which is no problem when afloat, but impossible while on the hard. I will plumb it to use sea water when floating and circulate the on-board fresh water when hauled. It will be like keeping fish alive while they are not in a tank of water.

And that brings me to the main topic: fish out of water. That common expression is popularly quoted when the surroundings don’t match the expected or required conditions of life. A condition that is so dire it may be considered an existential threat. Fish cannot survive long without swimming in a watery environment.

Of course that is from the viewpoint of the environment. The fish didn’t change at all, it was the environment that changed. But it is assumed that it is the fish’s dilemma and not the environment. Kalunamoo looks like a fish out of water when “on the hard”. It is not her fault or dilemma. But what of her crew?

Maureen and I, will fly back to New York for our two month plus summer visit with family and friends. Doctors will always be in the mix as we have reached that age when they become like good friends that must be visited and talked with at least once a year. Do we become like fish out of the water?

In a literal sense, just about! As mentioned above our refrigeration is designed to “breath” the water, much like a fish, to function. Cold storage, not to mention the ice needed for rum drinks, could be an existential issue for us. Kalunamoo itself needs support to stay upright while on the hard (with jack stands). Mobility is obviously impossible. Yet, we do live aboard even when on the hard. But what of us?  Daily “swim calls” which are functionary daily bathing’s, are de rigueur. Granted, land based bathrooms serve a similar, if not an exact duplication, of this ritual. Many other daily routines are, likewise, similar and so don’t pose an existential threat to survival. In a larger sense, however, it does seem that living off the boat is living like a fish out of the water.

When we were in Grenada, we visited the underwater sculpture park at Moliniere Point. Cruising friends Muna and Fred suggested a  tour via on an old wooden sailboat out of Port St. Louie. LOL, why not go on a sailboat tour? It is possible to sail there ourselves, as we have passed the area several times, but having a guided tour is usually much more interesting. It also came with lunch and rum. And so, we went. After about an hour sail, the boat moored off Moliniere Point. The sculptures are in about 25 feet of water and scattered about the sea floor among coral ledges and breaks. They would be difficult to find without a guide. The only way to see them is either by snorkeling or with scuba gear.    

At first Maureen was a little hesitant to snorkel as she hasn’t snorkeled in years. “If you see one fish, you have seen them all.” Well sometimes that is true. In any case, she donned a mask, fins and snorkel and did well. She was pleased with what we saw despite a leg cramp toward the end of the long swim back to the boat.

To get a close up look you can dive down 20 feet to be eye to eye with the sculptures for a brief moment and be in their world. That world is quiet and very peaceful, unperturbed by the anarchy of surface winds and waves. They are, however, affected by their own environment of currents and storms. After years on the bottom, they accrue a marine covering and will eventually become part of the underwater eco system.

I don’t have any underwater photos, but you can visit this site to see what it looks like and a description of each sculpture.

https://www.puregrenada.com/underwatersculpturepark

The whole park turns the expression, a fish out of water, upside down. These sculptures seem content in their watery environment, far from the madding crowd ashore. It was an interesting afternoon, and we were soon back aboard Kalunamoo planning the sail to Trinidad. A weather window opened, and the overnight sail to Trinidad was taken.

Our 16^th voyage ended where it started. The next two months we will feel like fish out of the water as the hustle and bustle of life on land contrasts with what we have become used to over the last fifteen years. No doubt, aging has something to do with this also. As the older you get, memories start to outstrip dreams and possibilities seem more limited. But nonetheless life goes on as we accrue the patina of age. I do, however, have a sense that the world has changed and continues to change to the extent that many of us feel like fish out of water, or like the Moliniere’s Vicissitudes sculpture, surrounded by an environment at odds to our common understandings that will forever change us.

One of the sculptures is titled La Diablesse, from a Grenadian folk tale. She casts diabolical spells that only can be broken by turning your clothing inside out and walking home backwards away from the area. If it only was so simple!