Spent the entire day at sea and in bed, trying to shake off the monster hangover from the night before while getting my video diary edited and trying desperately not to be seasick.
I was alright until the crew fed me, and then it was all downhill from there. We got into Point Lisas in Trinidad at about 1am. I fell asleep, happy that I was going to get off in Port of Spain in the morning.
Woke up still in Point Lisas, Trinidad. We hadn’t moved on to Port of Spain. Something was wrong – the electric generator had failed and the crew couldn’t get the doors open so the cranes could access the cargo. The technician was supposed to arrive at 7am. By 3pm he still hadn’t arrived.
The crew, not to be outdone by the lack of power to cook anything, found a pallet of wood, smashed it apart with fire axes, dug out an old barbecue and started cookin’. But by late afternoon, it was obvious that the ship wasn’t going to Port of Spain today, so I said my goodbyes and got a taxi for the short ride to the capital.
I started looking around for a lift off the island, but it was Sunday, everything was bus up shut, and there was nothing I could do.
I stayed at the Inna City guesthouse, rose with the lark and headed down to the docks. All the boats were not leaving until Wednesday. I tried all the shipping agents. Wednesday. Too many days on the one island – I arrived on Saturday night! I was really really stuck.
I wandered the baking hot streets for hours looking for somebody to help, but there was nobody. Then I got a text from Lorna. She had made contact with a woman called Annette Callender of Trump Luxury Tours who might just be able to help me.
Annette had many contacts and I was assured that something would come up tomorrow.
A good bit of news – I got my mobile Internet USB stick from Vodafone, so it’s a little easier for me to get online now.
Ended up going out on the lash with a group of Merchant seamen (and woman) and a crazy cool guy from Trinidad called Marcus. We had a few drinks and I stuffed my face with street food before heading home for an ‘early’ night about half twelve.
Spent the day on the edge of my seat. Annette picked me up in the morning and took me to Chaguaramas where all the yachties hang out. She organised for a radio announcement to go out for someone to take me to Grenada. Nothing.
We returned to her house where we watched the inauguration of President Obama while making phone call after phone call and I sent out an Internet SOS. I’m not going to make it to Canada for the 12th February. I am going to miss my connection – if getting around the Caribbean is going to be this hard and take so long every day, I’m done for. It’s a massive worry.
Eventually we got word from France that a guy called Alain (thank you Alain!) was going to let me on his yacht that was headed up to Grenada at 2am. Better late than never, so I jumped at the offer. He wasn’t there – his boat was being taken north by Ted, John and Linda from England who would be captain and crew for the next day.
I met up with my yachting companions and after passport formalities, a pizza and a couple of beers, crashed out on the yacht for an early night.