Hallalujiah! We are in the Seychelles! And even better, my crew can go ashore. I can send them off and away anytime I like! I probably shouldn't say this aloud, but I'm going to: I need some alone time. Think about it. Before this Covid situation arose, Andrew and Leslie would be gallavanting ashore all day, most days; Grin would be tied to the dock bothering other dinghies while Katherine Hepburn and I would be left blissfully alone in silence. I love my crew! But what is it they say? “A little absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
Our very first day in town, Andrew and Leslie unfolded Grin and left me bobbing in the calm anchorage. They explored the nearby territory - anywhere they could reach by dinghy and quickly found a grocery store within walking distance selling a bouquet of lettuce that made Leslie swoon. “People ask me all the time what food I miss most from home,” Leslie says back in my galley, chopping the crisp, neon green leaves into salad sized shreds. “I'm sure they expect me to say pulled pork, ribs, my mother's potato salad, cheese burgers, pizza, steaks...and sure, I miss all those things, but a lot of that we can find or make ourselves. What I miss most - is crispy, green lettuce, kale, swiss chard, and parsley! Oh....fresh parsley!” Leslie says as she inhales a deep whiff from feather soft Italian parsley fronds held tight in her fist. I admit it. Fresh, crisp greens are hard to come by at sea. Leslie makes do with sprouts, but they aren't quite the same.
Look at that floofy green head of lettuce!
“Mmm, yes,” I say.
“I’m more enthusiastic about the boat chandleries myself.”
“We also found a running track today,” Andrew reports. “Only about 100m from your stern, Sonrisa, there is a lovely park that has a running track, weight exercise equipment, and enough green space for any kind of workout regimen we can imagine!”
“Jump rope?” I ask.
“Yes, sure, why not?” Leslie says, “Our legs won't get soggy and soft anymore!”
"Good." I confirm. And, this is good. I admit, there just isn't very far to walk, run or jump within forty feet of sailboat. Swimming is good, but it’s not weight bearing, and I didn't want to say anything but both of my crew members are getting a little …. chunky. The Covid “19” I suppose.
A few days later, they rented a car with Steely Pete and Sapphire Jen. “Wish us luck!” Leslie says as she gathers her backpack and camera gear. "We are off to find the chandleries.”
“Excellent.” I say. I’ve been hoping a few items of boat bling might make their way back to me. The leak in the front cabin is just one of several issues I’d like to have improved. “While you are at it, my hand rails are falling off, and I don't really like the rusty nail spots on the beadboard in the forward cabin. I could really use some new cables and wires to the anchor windlass, I think they are corroding. And, have you thought about what you might need to rebed all the equipment that attaches through deck on the bow? It’s the only way to stop that leak, you know.”
Andrew says he promises he will fix that leak, but could he please have just a couple days to relax? I suppose. It’s not raining so much here right now, it’s the dry season, and my leak isn't so big as to let any small rain get in. I’ll be patient for a few more days. But don’t think I won’t start niggling at other things if he ignores me for too long!
They have the rental car for three days. Upon return on the first two days they bring bags and bags of boat-bling for me. New dock-lines to be spliced, windlass wires as requested, stainless steel screws to replace my old rusty nails on the wooden bead-boards (are you going to put those pretty shiney screws into all that old, ugly wood?), bags and bags of boat parts and menagerie. I approve. And so, on the third day with the rental car, I send Andrew and Leslie onward to have a day to “play tourist” and get the lay of the island further afield then Grin can carry them.
“A circumnavigation of Mahe!" Leslie declares, “That is the plan for today.”
“Do you think you can drive all the way around today?” I ask.
“Oh, I do think so. It’s not all that big,” Leslie explains.
Only six hours later, they return.
“What are you doing back so early?” I ask.
“We finished!”
“You finished? Already? You circumnavigated the whole island already?”
“Yep.” Andrew says, piling bags of more groceries on my galley countertop. Six hours and we stopped five times while we were at it!”
“No!!!” I say.
But, truly yes. They stopped at a cute cafe called Kafe Kreole located right on the beach with colorful fishing boats anchored out front. There, they enjoyed a cappuccino and a local dessert: Coconut Nougat.
Photograph probably by Sapphire Jen. In a tragic turn of affairs, Leslie’s photographs of this particular day went missing.
Carrying on down the road, they found a hike at the very Southern tip of the island that took them to a beach where Leslie experimented with new hairstyles, and they met a new friend. The beach had soft sand and the trademark granite boulders of Seychelles.
They stopped again for a long lunch, enjoying local delicacies like octopus curry, barbequed fish with creole sauce, daal, green papaya salad and the local beer brew: Seybrew. Leslie chased down an unsuspecting Seychellois man who emerge from the rocky surf to casually drag a giant octopus down the street. “Do you mind if I take your picture!” She says as she runs ten paces behind him.
It's not every day you see a man carrying an Octopus down the middle of the street.
After having been in town a while, now, though, we’ve learned this is actually a common occurence, one that happens pretty much every day.
The road on the West side of the island ends with a gap in the middle, so their circumnavigation required them to climb up and over the cliffs once, then back again, on some of the narrowest, tightest zig-zags any of my crew have seen. (And that is saying a lot given their driving experiences in the Marquesas.) Once back on the West side, they found yet another beach to stop and enjoy while all but the designated driver quoiffed a cold, bubbly Seybrew.
“Sonrisa! It has been more than six weeks since we had beer aboard.” Andrew said, cheerful to be reunited with one of his favorite beverages.
"Right, yes.” I say. “And, the beach looks nice.”
They closed their circuit with a stop into the grocery store, collecting a few days of perfectly fluffy heads of lettuce for cheaper than what is available at the grocery within walking distance.
“Six hours, huh?” I ask again.
“Yeah, six hours.”
Having just finished a passage through a thousand miles plus of wide open ocean, it’s a strange juxtaposition. This world can feel so big, and yet so small all at once. Is Andrew truly contemplating staying right here until Covid lets up and good sailing weather windows re-open again?
“Six. Hours.”
