1981 (8) – A Mouse in the House

Disco Dancer.  Mixed media, 8" x 10"

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

To add a little excitement to our lives, we thought we had a rat on board!  At night we could hear an animal jogging around on the deck, lap after lap.  We suspected a rat because he made so much noise, though we couldn’t imagine how one could get on board, as we were out at anchor.  After a couple nights, Ed got a look at it and decided it was only a mouse. 

Ed wanted to catch the mouse on deck, rather than inside the boat.  When night came, we’d close the boat up tight – all the ports and hatches, with the exception of the companionway.  When we heard the fellow doing his nightly run, we’d shut the companionway. 

Ed set a couple of traps, but they were duly ignored.  The mouse came back into the boat through a ventilator shaft.  The next night, Ed stuffed all the shafts with dishtowels.  The mouse pulled out a towel, and went down the shaft.

The following night, Ed was ready for him.  Ed made a long tube out of an old sail.  He attached it at the bottom of a shaft, with strings at the top to make a bag of it.  Ed added a towel at the top of the ventilator shaft to mislead the mouse.  He blocked the other vents with cans.

Well, the mouse frolicked around, and then I guess he settled down for a nap.  Ed finally went on deck with a big stick.  He found the mouse in one of the rope coils on the cabin top, and managed a couple of glancing blows.  The mouse escaped, headed for the cockpit, and that was the last we saw of him.  Ed took the whole cockpit apart, and went through every conceivable hiding place he could think of.  It’s possible the mouse went out through one of the scupper holes, and right into the water.  

How did this fellow get on Tropic Moon?  Our best guess is that he came home from work with Ed, in Ed’s tote bag.  We’re pretty sure he didn’t swim out to the boat.  And, even though he cost us several nights’ sleep, I couldn’t help but hope he made it back to shore.

1981 (7) – Dennis & Gert – A Stormy Couple

Riffraff Reef.  An art quilt, 22" x 31"

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

For most of the 1981 hurricane season, we were pretty busy tracking storms.  It almost seemed that, if you didn’t get a real biggie to clean the air, you were plagued with lots of little ones.  That year, conditions in the south Atlantic didn’t seem to be particularly favorable for development of big storms.  What we would have was, every three or four days over several weeks, reports of “disturbed weather” to the east, with the additional comment that further development was possible.

Hurricane Dennis was the most damaging storm of the 1981 Atlantic hurricane season.  It took almost two weeks to achieve hurricane status, up near the States.  When Dennis reached the Caribbean, it had degenerated from a tropical storm into a tropical wave.  While it didn’t look like Dennis would give us any serious problems in the Virgin Islands, we decided to go to Hurricane Hole on St. John, to wait for Dennis to pass our location.  It was a Monday, and, as Ed put it, it was either go to Hurricane Hole, or go to work.  (Mike, Ed’s boss, wasn’t happy with Ed’s choice.)

This was our third annual pilgrimage to Hurricane Hole.  It was good practice – sort of like a fire drill.  Very few boats went, although the Moorings sent over their whole charter fleet.  Dennis didn’t amount to anything; we got less rain than we would have in a normal week.

Riffraff Reef.  Detail.

We had more excitement a month later, with Tropical Storm Gert.  A depression when it crossed Antigua, upgraded to a storm as it approached St. Croix, Gert passed south of us.  Tropic Moon was moored in Maya Cove.  After setting a third anchor, Ed went to work, leaving me alone on the boat.  The storm was far enough to the south that steady winds seldom exceeded 25 knots.  But when the center of the storm passed our longitude, the northerly propagating swells came right through Salt Passage, breaking 6-8 feet high on our protecting reef.  As the storm tracked westward, and the wind changed direction, Tropic Moon shifted position.  Eventually, she was holding on only one of the three anchors.  Dressed in my foul weather gear, I went up to the bow.  I let out rope on one anchor, and pulled in on the other two, until I had Tropic Moon again balanced on all three anchors. 

The wind and the chop in the harbor were wild; Tropic Moon bounced around like a hyperactive puppy at the end of her leash.  When Ed got home from work, I could see him standing on the shore with the carpenter Ed traveled with, to and from Road Town.  It was obvious to both of us that it was too rough for me to row in with the dinghy.  Ed signaled me to stay on the boat.  He undressed, and gave his clothes and tote bag to his friend for safekeeping.  Ed walked to the head of Maya Cove, near the reef, and got into the water.  He swam across wind and current, while being pushed sideways by the rough waters.  I started breathing again when he reached the boat!

Each year during hurricane season, we seemed to acquire more anchors.  Ed had wanted some extras to set up a mooring in Maya Cove.  That way, when we left the mooring, we’d still have a full complement on the boat.  Ed located a pair of 35# anchors, for $25 each, from one of the charter boat companies.  That brought us to six anchors.  Maybe that would be enough...

1981 (6) - Kim and Doug, Yacht Regen Tag

Regatta.  An art quilt, 35" x 29"

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

I tried to figure out why we got along so well with Kim and Doug.  I decided it was because we must think alike, or be crazy in the same ways because, after all, we did choose the same boat.  When Tropic Moon was built in 1961, she was one of a total of fourteen yachts made to the same design.  Regen Tag was one of Tropic Moon’s sister ships.  Forty-two feet, steel-hulled ketch, teak cabin trunk - she looked just like us! 

Kim and Doug found Regen Tag in Florida.  While they were getting her ready to go cruising, they were docked next to another boat that had a crew member named Stumpy.  When we were in Grenada getting Tropic Moon ready to go cruising, we were docked next to a boat whose captain was this self-same Stumpy, a native of Grenada.  Stumpy had told Kim and Doug about Tropic Moon, so they had the vague idea of keeping an eye out for us, even though it had been two years since Stumpy had last seen our boat. 

Kim and Doug, with three friends as crew, sailed Regen Tag down to the Virgin Islands.  One day they were touring Tortola by car.  In driving past Maya Cove, they spotted Tropic Moon resting at anchor.  They didn't meet us that day, or the day in June when they brought Regen Tag through Maya Cove. (I was in the States for the month, and Ed was at work).  They finally did meet Ed by going to see him at the shop.  Ed wasn't surprised to hear about our sister ship.  One evening he'd been having drinks on a British boat when Martin, glancing out into the Channel, had exclaimed, "Oh Ed, I say, there goes your bloody boat!" - as Regen Tag sailed past. 

Regatta.  Detail.

It was two months later when they sailed into Road Town and I saw Regen Tag for the first time.  I rowed over for a visit, and was given a tour.  While the boats were alike on the outside, the interiors were totally different.  While I felt like an idiot, I kept pointing out things (our hall is in a different place; we have a dresser instead of a door here; your galley looks longer than ours).  Kim and Doug came over for drinks that evening.  In going through Tropic Moon, they exclaimed and puzzled as I had done earlier, so I felt a whole lot better about my behavior that afternoon.

Doug thought it would be fun to compare Tropic Moon and Regen Tag under sail.  The two weekends we planned to sail, there wasn't any wind.  We did meet one weekend with the two boats over at Little Harbour on Peter Island, a pretty palm-fringed bay.  While Ed was taking advantage of the clear water to scrape Tropic Moon’s bottom, he was kept company by a four-foot fish.  When we all went swimming between the boats, the fish followed us back and forth.  It seemed to enjoy hanging out in the shade under Regen Tag's rubber dinghy. 

At first we’d thought the fish was a tarpon.  I went snorkeling, and when I swam back to Tropic Moon, I was still wearing my mask.  As I neared the boat, I spotted the fish against the hull – right under our boarding ladder!  He “grinned” at me; I saw a whole mouthful of teeth.  I called up to Ed, “Are you sure that’s not a barracuda?”  I waited till the fish moved away from the hull before I went to the ladder.  We looked in our fish book, and determined it was a barracuda.  Seemed friendly enough!

That night Kim and Doug barbecued chicken on their grill.  Kim had made two salads to go with the chicken – one fruit, and one vegetable.  We had a peaceful dinner under the stars.