Beach Combing in Saint Pierre

Isla and I love beach combing for "treasures".  It's a little ritual we have that each time we land on a new beach, her and I slowly walk the shoreline picking up shells, rocks and anything else that catches our eye.  Isla is a very patient, thoughtful and inquisitive child and this little hobby of ours suits her perfectly.  We'll stroll along, sometimes hand in hand, sometimes with her trailing me - and each time she finds something of interest she exclaims, "OoooOOOooo!! Mama wook!" and she holds up her stone, shell or - her personal favorite - beach glass (this has subsequently lead to her now excitedly picking up shards of glass in the streets, unfortunately.  We're working on differentiating).  When our travels took us up to the Northern end of Martinique to the quaint town of Saint Pierre, we were treated with the very best beach combing yet.

This little seaside town, which upon first glance looks a bit ramshackle and run-down, has great historical significance.  While it was once considered the cultural capital of this beautiful island and had a well-earned reputation of being the "Paris of the Caribbean", sadly it's fame was solidified in 1902 when the eruption of Mt. Pelee completely destroyed this place, killing over 30,000 people and leveling everything in it's path.  The town still bears the scars of this tragedy and is full of historical ruins giving it a slightly Roman feel.  Many of the ruins have either been incorporated into the modern architecture or left to be slowly reclaimed by nature amongst the living.  It's a very cool place to explore.

When we swam to the beach from our boat, we didn't even think about the fact that the blast which completely decimated this town might have washed some of the remnants of the buildings and homes into the sea.  On our simple stroll along the beach we found weathered bits of terra-cotta tiles, sand-polished bits of plates, tiny pieces of once intricate porcelain tiles and other remnants of yesteryear.  And - wow - if you are a person who loves beach glass, look no further!  There is every size, color, and shape of glass imaginable and we could have easily filled a wine bottle with pieces that we saw just at our feet while walking.  We collected a few bits to bring back to the boat to add to our collection and now we not only have little tiny pieces of history with us, but fond memories of our time here in Martinique.

Hurricane Ivan

The face of Grenada was forever changed when Hurricane Ivan slammed into the island with winds that reached up to 120 mph on September 7, 2004.  Obviously we were not here at that time, but if you ask a local about it - they'll recount it with a sorry shake of their head like it was yesterday.  It absolutely devastated the island - demolishing 90% of homes and leaving most of the population homeless.  It ripped away trees, land, and the livelihoods of even more.  The damage was not only physical, Grenada suffered terrible economic effects as a direct result of Hurricane Ivan as well and still to this day the country, particularly the agricultural sector, is trying to regain it's footing.

Being from the midwest where we don't typically deal with or pay much attention to hurricanes (or tornadoes, tsunamis, earthquakes or landslides), it is hard to imagine this kind of destruction.  While, on the surface, Grenada has bounced back very well - there are still plenty of reminders of nature's wrath on every street.  Piles of cinderblock rubble where a house once stood, a roofless abandoned store front with blown out windows, the outline of structures that once stood proud now overgrown with foliage. The church pictured here is one of my favorites, proving that there can still be beauty in mayhem and destruction.  Buildings like this are everywhere in downtown St. Georges.  While many think Grenada is far enough south to be considered "safe" from the hurricane belt, Ivan is a solemn reminder that nature doesn't always follow the rules.

The "Hurricane Belt" compliments of The Advanced Aquarist

"Nature understands no jesting. She is always true, always serious, always severe. She is always right, and the errors are always those of man." 

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Love,

Brittany & Scott

Rastaman Vibration

Selwyn, my beautiful Rasta friend - inside and out.

Rastaman vibration, yeah. Positive! - Bob Marley

I had a completely different article written for today.  Sure, it was on Rastas and a glimpse into the Rastafarian culture, but that all changed when I met this guy, Selwyn.  Sometimes, life puts you in the path of someone on purpose.  Sometimes the Universe works to give you exactly what you need and you just gotta roll with it.   But let me back up...

I went to town the other day with the sole mission of getting a great photo of a rasta for the afore-mentioned article.  That's all.  Just one photo.  I got off my bus and immediately saw this beautiful man.  I walked right up to him and I said, "Excuse me sir, I am writing an article on Rastas and I was wondering, would you mind if I I took your picture?"

He looked at me with this puzzled expression and replied, "Sister, sister...before you take my picture, you need to slow down." He looked at me seriously, "Tell me...why do you want to write about Rasta?"  I smiled, and told him my love of the Rastafarian religion and how I wanted to paint a more realistic picture of the Rasta life - one that went beyond the dreads and the pot smoking.

Selwyn pondered this a moment and said.  "Come, we must talk first.  Please, sit down."  And we went into a little corner bar and had a seat. "Tell me what you know about Rastafari" he asked me as he pensively twirled one of his dreadlocks between two fingers.  I told him what I knew of the culture, the beliefs, lifestyle and - most important - the conviction that we are all One.  "It's more than that sister," he began, "It's about love and faith in the Almighty, our savior".  He began to tell me about his love of Jesus Christ, and how we must all accept a higher power in order to live life and love everlasting (for some Rastas this is Haile Selassie, but as in all religion, there are variations within).

We spoke back and forth for a long time, me explaining my beliefs and he articulating his.  He asked me many thoughtful, intent questions and finally he leaned back in his chair and asked with an inquisitive smile, "What made you interested in Rasta?" I explained to him my love of Bob Marley (which began many, many years ago); how I believe he was a true prophet, how his music spoke to me and continues to do so.  He put his hand up in a stopping position.  "No, not his music sister..."  Selwyn smiled kindly as he interjected, "His message." He raised his forefinger,  "His message spoke to you."  He patted his heart with his fingers in a 'peace' sign.  From that moment on, Selwyn and I were on the same page.  Then, he did something really, really cool.  He told me to close my eyes and he gently placed his hand atop my head and said a prayer.  When I opened my eyes Selwyn had tears in his as he took my face in his palms and smiled.  He pointed to his tearing eyes and said, "You see this?  This is love.  We are one."  It was beautiful.  We embraced in a huge hug and our bond was solidified.  "You okay," he said with an approving nod and a smile, "You okay".

The roots of Rastafari (often pronounced Rasta-far-EYE:  this is known as "I" talk and is the accepted lingo among Rastas) began in rebellion in the 1930's and (as a former rebel without a cause) I have always had a place in my heart for those who staunchly reject being told what to do.  More than an African hippe movement, Rastafari was a reaction against colonial rule and more of a lifestyle than organized religion though all Rastas believe in a higher power and one Almighty ruler. 

The culture is one that is often misunderstood and controversial, due in large part to the Rasta belief that 'ganja' (marijuana) is considered the "holy herb" and is smoked openly - often for enlightenment.  What a lot of people don't realize is that in addition to this, many Rastafarian's shun alcohol and other (non-natural) drugs and view them as poison; tools used by society to confuse rather then enhance people.  They believe in eating organically, and many here in the islands have their own little gardens free of chemicals and pesticides*.  They tread lightly on the earth and many adhere to a strictly vegetarian diet.  Of course, the most tell-tale sign of a Rasta is their hair - they do not believe in cutting it and wear it in "dreadlocks" which are often symbolic of a deep, spiritual journey.

There is so much more to this incredible religion - so many variations and nuances.  What I can tell you is - at it's heart - just like at the heart of all of us, it's all about LOVE.  I feel so lucky to be able to interact with these beautiful people, like my friend Selwyn, on a daily basis.  There is so much we can learn from each other and in the words of the prophetic Bob Marley, the most famous Rasta of them all, 

...None but ourselves can free our minds...

Love,

Brittany & Scott

* Incidentally, I always seek out street food sold by a Rasta...always vegetarian, nutritious and delicious! Soya pies, vegetable wraps, organic coconut bread....YUM!

Lockin' Through

Seriously, locks are friggin' cool.  For example - we began today at about 590 ft. above sea level (or something, we don't have our charts with us at the moment so I don't know for sure) and we ended today at around 460.  That is...neat.

Locks are intense.  Locks are rugged.  Locks are hard-core.  Locks are...cool.  Nothing like starting out at "x" feet, and then ending at "x minus 50 feet" (and they said I wasn't good at math!) in a matter of 15 minutes.  I mean, that is just. plain. cool.  Or maybe I'm just easily amused?

Here's what they look like, from our perspective:

See that green wall behind us, we started at the TOP of that! This was lock #2 in a 2-fer.

The doors ahead...where we are going...

Once you get to the proper level, the gates open.  I don't know why, but I *always* think of Wizard of Oz when this happens.

Bye bye lock!  Thanks for dropping us a solid 50'!

We've got 30 more locks to go!  Thanks to my dad for getting us our super awesome industrial Easystow fenders so we don't scratch up our boat!

More tomorrow!  For now, there is wine to be drank...or drunk....whatever...

Love,
Brittany (& Scott)

The Erie Canal!

The Erie Canal is FULL of History.  

It was an incredible feat at the time, and provided a much needed "Gateway to the West" for the East Coast.  Huge barges were used to move goods along the canal, pulled by horses and handlers.  The canal meanders through gorgeous Upstate New York and is just full of beautiful vistas and panoramas.  In between the stretches of vast land, orchards, and farms are little towns and villages that feel as American as apple pie and baseball.  You can literally pull up and dock nearly anywhere and just step off of your boat and into the heart of a little "one horse" town.  Lovely.  

The days of the barges are gone, but the history is still here.  Now, the canal is mostly used for pleasure boats and cruisers - and for us, ironically - it is the passage to the East! 

Yesterday Scott and I found this old book in the Lock Masters office and poked through it.  So very cool.  I love older books and illustrations.  The pages even smelled all musty and library-like, not enough books smell like that anymore. 

This morning, we went down our first lock - a 50 footer in Lockport!  We are moving along nicely, and just enjoying this very calm and slow paced motor along one of America's most historic waterways.  

This is the life!

Love,

Brittany (& Scott)

Oh, Canada.

I've been all over the world, yet I have never visited our friendly neighbor to the North...Canada.

Until today, that is.

Our new friends decided today was the day to play hooky and embark on a spontaneous adventure.  Niagara Falls is only about an hour from here so they (being the wonderful people they are) took Scott and I to see it.  Man, those falls are INTENSE.  The mist from the water rises above the falls like smoke and you can see it from miles and miles away, they are that powerful.

What is crazy is how calm the water is just before it hits the ledge and makes the 180 foot drop.  I shudder to think...

After the falls, we took the short drive to Niagara on the Lake - which is just one of the most darling little towns ever.  Beautifully maintained, quaint and full of European-style cafes and pubs (it was British occupied during the 1800's and, therefore, has a very British feel to it).  So naturally, we drank.  I never met a British Pub I didn't like.

That's a LOT of water!

It's a long way down, Tonto!

Main Street in Niagara on the Lake

Liquid lunch time!  How great is this British pub?  They serve Shepard's Pie and Fish-n-Chips!

They say this is one of the oldest Pub's around...

Fort George (across the lake)

Beautiful day.

At least there are still leaves on the trees, right?

It was a fantastic day with fantastic people.   Thanks to M and T for an all-out awesome time!  Love you guys!

Love,
Brittany (& Scott)

The Sea = Free

Last night, I was watching the History Channel's "The Story of Us" and learned a something very interesting about the seamen of yesteryear.  During the mid 1800's capitalism was just getting it's legs; factories were able to run longer and people able to work later as a result of a new oil made from whale blubber.  It was also during this time that slavery threatened to divide our nation into North and South..."where is she going with this!?" you ask...read on...

The whaling industry during the 19th century was one of (if not the most) prominent business at the time with hundreds of ships leaving the North East coast every year.  While I am in no way a supporter of hunting whales - during the time leading up to the civil war this industry was one of the first to ever employ slaves as equals.  The sea became a place of freedom for escaped slaves fleeing the south.  Although life aboard a whaling ship was hard, dangerous and potentially deadly - it was a risk worth taking and better than a life lived for someone else.

Fredrick Douglas, visionary, American abolitionist and reformer wrote:

"You are loosed from your moorings, and are free; I am fast in my chains, and am a slave! You move merrily before the gentle gale, and I sadly before the bloody whip! You are freedom's swift-winged angels, that fly round the world; I am confined in bands of iron! ... It cannot be that I shall live and die a slave. I will take to the water."

Douglas's linking of freedom and the water was not arbitrary or simply for poetic license.  Nantucket - the birthplace of the U.S whaling industry - had begun to get a reputation for being a "land of opportunity for Blacks", largely because of the massive amount of black sailors its fishery employed.  Although he never went to sea, Douglas worked for a shipyard in Baltimore and saw it first hand.  A life at sea was, literally, an escape from a life in chains.

This is not the first time the sea and its men would be ahead of their time - blacks were often employed on pirate ships as well, again often as equals.  Scott and I went to the Field Museum here in Chicago a while back and saw the "Pirates" exhibit about the slave ship turned pirate ship "The Whydah".

After the Whydah's human cargo was unloaded in the West Indies, the ship was captured by notorious pirate Sam Bellamy and his motley crew. Hailing from many nations, they included ordinary seamen, free black men, political dissidents, escaped slaves, indentured servants, Africans freed from slave ships taken at sea, Native Americans, and runaway plantation workers.

Compared to life on land, pirate ships were islands of freedom in a world of few options.  Life aboard a pirate ship, while still very violent and unruly, was *somewhat* of a democracy.  Pirates needed leadership - but the Captain was no sole dictator. A pirate captain was really only "first among equals."  Once a pirate had become a "citizen" of the ship, he had an equal vote, an equal share of the booty, and the chance to be elected an officer. These rights extended to everyone on board—black, white, and Indian.  These guys might have been ruthless, but they were fair!

The sea and 'freedom' are synonomous and rightfully so.  There is no place on Earth more vast, more romantic and more mysterious than the sea.  It holds endless possiblities for those who chose her.  This is precisely the reason why so many of us are inexplicably drawn to that endless horizon and have been since the dawn of man.  The spirit of the sailor - the desire to cast off and be free - remains the same all these centuries later and Scott and I cannot wait to join their ranks.  As E.E.Cummings wrote:  For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It's always our self we find in the sea.

Love,
Brittany & Scott

*Please note - I am not a historian and I understand that not ALL whaling/pirate ships were friendly to other races - nor were their 'causes' humanitarian in nature.  However, I found the fact that they were ahead of their time in practicing equal rights interesting.  Also, I want to reiterate that I am NOT a proponent of whaling.  Though the industry is all but gone, some countries, like Japan, still hunt whale illegally and this is a travesty.  To learn more go here.