Part 5 -- Pete's Pub
If you've ever been to the British Virgin Islands, and visited Bomba's Shack, you'll recognize its soulmate in Pete's Pub. Sand floor; semi-permanent structure; trees sprouting through the roof; clothing, business cards, signs, and other debris attached to the ceiling and walls; graffiti everywhere. However, Pete's, unlike Bomba's, is more of a "family" beach bar (if such a thing can be said to exist), because it is less risqué -- few (if any) undergarments of unknown provenance attached to the rafters and no reputation for hallucinogenic mushroom tea served at monthly Full Moon parties. Of course, there is plenty of opportunity to get in trouble here for those truly determined to do so.
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and we had such good intentions. We were going to check out Pete's Pub and the gallery, have a Kalik or two, and move on to Lynyard for the night. While enjoying our first round of Kaliks, we started strolling through the gallery but were shoo-ed out after a few minutes because the gallery was closing (siesta?). A few more Kaliks, and we started horsing around with the bartender, Bronson. Noticing all the graffiti, Jeff dinghied back to Easy Breeze to pick up the Marks-A-Lot I had so thoughtfully packed. We left our autographs in a few spots, using both our boat/bar aliases and our real names. After all this effort, Bronson showed me the pot of markers he had at the bar for just this purpose -- oh well; it's much more fun to do it with your own marker.
It was the pot that caught my eye. Pleasing shape, light blue glaze with a wave pattern etched into it. I collect ceramics and I NEEDED this pot, crafted by a Marsh Harbour potter named Alice (forgive me if I've got it wrong; I know it was a ladies' name starting with "A" but the day starts to get foggy at this point). We started bargaining with Bronson and his cohort (Pete's son?) for the pot, but cash wasn't convincing them. Then Jeff sweetened the kitty by offering up his Adam Sandler CD, which features the reggae song called "Ode to My Car" (better known as "Piece of S**t Car"). That, and $25, and the pot was mine mine mine. Jeff brought the CD over, and we played the CD, much to the delight of most of Pete's patrons, but not so much to the "Clean People," who soon departed.
I first observed this group of people soon after arrival. They were a large group of perhaps 3 generations, and they were notably CLEAN -- fair skin, groomed hair, fresh clothing. They must have come by CAR. Us boat people, on the other hand, are notably scuzzy -- sunscreen smeared all over us and our sketchy clothing, unhealthy tans, never able to really get dry, haphazard grooming, funky hair, and that not-so-fresh smell that comes from irregular bathing. At this point, the world was divided into Clean People and Boat People.
By about 4:00, it was time to decide to either order more Kaliks and pay the $10 mooring fee to stay, or make tracks for Lynyard. Bronson voted that we stay, and so did everyone else. I abstained from the vote because, as cruise director and first mate, I'd made too many decisions this week. However, as head chef, I observed that we still had lots of food left in our own galley. So, rather than waste it, I asked Aubrey, the wild-haired chef, if he would grill our ribs for us. He was agreeable, so Cap'n Rick and I dinked over to Easy Breeze and brought the ribs over. Feeling a little peckish, I brought over the evening's planned happy hour munchies as well, and was soon at the bar, cutting up brie and apples and sharing with my crew and other patrons.
At this time, the gallery re-opened, with Pete himself presiding. I was admiring Pete's work, especially a gold cuff bracelet with a lizard on it. I told Pete how much I loved frogs and lizards, so he drew me a leaf with a lizard on it, which could either be a pendant or a brooch. Wasting no time whatsoever, I corralled Cap'n Rick into commissioning such a brooch to be my birthday present, and he and Pete worked out the formalities.
Back at the bar, more people were arriving, and we had a great time chatting with both locals (Rhonda from Cherokee) and visitors. I especially liked talking to the Dickerson family from Georgia, who own a home in the area. The mother was my namesake, and she and her husband had 5 kids with them, ranging from teenagers to 13-month-old Ira (cute enough to eat). They had such a great, easy attitude, demonstrating that you can take your kids to a bar without corrupting them. Jeff showed the older girls how to do the Carolina shag. As the evening wore on, we switched from Kaliks to lethal Blasters.
As darkness fell, the kitchen started serving up our dinner, starting with salads, followed by our pork ribs, grilled to perfection with a tangy, vinegary sauce, together with peas-n-rice and coleslaw. They did this for us for a mere $6 a plate and it was probably the best meal of our charter.
More dancing and goofing around following, but by about 8:30, the Kaliks and Blasters had taken their toll on me. I gasped at the size of our tab (over $175) and closed it out -- our boat kitty was now officially depleted, so the crew of Easy Breeze would now be drinking on their own nickel. Cap'n Rick gently ferried me back to the boat, while the rest of the crew closed the place at 11:30.
It was a rough night for all of us. I couldn't sleep and believed that the boat was spinning around the mooring all night (this observation was shared by Jeff and Theresa as well). Somehow, I doubt it was the wind causing this phenomenon. Friday morning found us all a bit subdued, not only from the previous day's adventures, but from the fact that Theresa had to return to Washington today (she had to prepare for a business trip to -- get out the violins, gang -- Hawaii). I discovered that of the shoes I wore back to the boat, one was mine and one was Jeff's; happily, he wore a similar pair back.
We have a 15 mile sail back to Hopetown to drop Theresa at the ferry dock, and the seas a very rolly today. A few of us are encountering the queasy whispers of seasickness and I administer some Dramamine. (As a matter of background, I normally apply a Scop patch as soon as I get on a sailboat for an extended cruise, but haven't needed one this week at all. However, despite my tendency to get seasick, I suspect that Pete's Blasters have a little more to do with my queasiness than do the rough seas.) It is overcast today, a welcome respite from the constant need for sunscreen. We arrive in Hopetown around 11:30 and snag a mooring. Leftover spaghetti feeds the crew. Cap'n Rick gets some more ice from Harbor View grocery and we leave Theresa at the ferry dock. So now it is just me -- one blonde chick -- with the 3 guys, heading for Delia's Cove on Guana Cay.
