Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
We were sorry to be leaving again. We had made a few friends amongst these sailors, and it
was sad but part of the cruising way: always meeting new people and always saying good-
bye, good luck, sayonara, ciao, take it easy, God speed, whatever; it all amounted to the
same thing. Easy come, easy go, ships in the night.
The morning dawned, and another sunny windless day unwrapped itself. We rowed ashore
on a glassy sea to the harbormaster's office to clear out. “Ah, da tweens!” he smiled indul-
gently. “You are going to Hawaii sí? That's a long trip! Good luck to you both, sí.” We had
evidently been forgiven our earlier transgressions.
Next, we went to the supermarket and purchased a few more items from our final list and
then went around to the general dealer to meet the friendly shop assistant.
“Oh, 'ello dere, I get sumsing for you guys!” she smiled warmly, pulling a large parcel
out from under the counter. She shyly rustled opened the paper layers and showed us four
freshly baked, heavenly smelling loaves of brown bread. She went under the counter again
and produced a plastic bag with a quantity of potatoes, some small onions, and a cabbage.
She even brought out a bottle of red wine which she proudly placed on the bar, beaming
from ear to ear. We were amazed. This time I grabbed her hand and put it to my mouth and
kissed it, “Thank you so much, you are a real sweetie!” I said.
“Yes, that is very decent of you; what do we owe you?” asked Gavin, pipped at the post for
once.
“Nutting! You guys is so brave to sail out dere in dat big sea; you take all dis for good luck,
sí?”
We were floored by her charm and generosity and thanked her again, waved our goodbyes,
and headed back to the boat.
We returned to Déjà vu, waving a last goodbye to some of the sailors who were up and
about, and hauled Baby Vu up on the deck, lashing her down very securely. It would be a
long time before she would be used again.
We saw a few cats paws were ruffling the ocean top, and a very light breeze was felt on our
faces. We bent on the lightest and largest sails we had. The engine was started and Gavin
performed his foredeck duty of hauling up the rattling anchor and stowing it in the anchor
locker in its coil of warp and chain. I engaged the gear and upped the revs, turning the boat
around and out to sea. We waved a response to someone's fog horn blast and fixed our eyes
ahead. Suddenly, it seemed, we were back at sea. The time had gone by so quickly again,
and there was the usual feeling of sadness at leaving.
