Thursday, March 31, 2011

Goodbye Becca

(Becca in Rodney Bay)
 
 
Fort Vieux is where one of the two airports on St. Lucia is and where Becca left us.  Money was low, commitments back home were pressing (or so she said), and it was time for her to go.  Arriving late morning,we had the rest of the a day to spend in the town.  Becca's flight left the next afternoon.  After a good swim to wash myself and my clothes, Mark and I went ashore to wandered around town and look for internet access.  Nate stayed to help Becca pack.  
 
Fort Vieux is not a stop for cruise ships or even private boaters to any large extent.  The only draw there is the airport and there is another one on the island farther north, closer to the resorts.  Its a regular, working town, not particularly pretty and not set up with the amenities that transient sailors desire.  The harbor was filled with commercial vessels.  There were no showers, no WiFi, and no pricey restaurants serving American food to tourists.  As Mark and I walked along the streets, we had the new (for us) experience of being the only two white people we saw.  No one paid us a second's notice.  After being followed and harassed everywhere we went in Soufriere by beggars and taxi drivers and tour guides, it was great to be ignored.
We all walked Becca in to town her last morning but Mark and I peeled off at the internet cafe and let Nate go with her alone to the airport.  It was a long walk with little shade.  When Nate returned, sad and sweat stained, our crew now reduced to three, we joined him silently in the street and headed for the harbor.

Along the way, we stopped to pick up a family value meal from Kentucky Fried Chicken, our first fast food in many months.  I hadn't seen a McDonald's since leaving Florida, but we had noticed several KFC locations sprinkled through the Caribbean.  This one had a line but, we got complimentary grape jelly with our biscuits.  Worth it.  
 
Back by the water, we bought necklaces with pendants of polished drift wood from an emaciated old man sitting out on the fishing wharf, then took the dinghy out to where Strolla lay at anchor.  It was noticeable how much faster the little boat went with only three people in it.

The value meal was supposed to feed a family of six.  The three of us finished it without too much difficulty but, I was grateful to be wearing a bathing suit with an elastic waistband.  When the last greasy crumb of chicken skin had been licked up, the last biscuit used to wipe up the last dollop of mashed potatoes and gravy, we settled back into various positions of repose, sated beyond comfort.  As we reclined in silence, watching the sun drop towards the watery horizon, bare-chested save for our new pirate necklaces, each lost in his own thoughts, wondering what the trip would be like without Becca.

Becca, you will be missed...

(Fine tuning the autohelm)


(Dance Party Roosevelt Roads)




 



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