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From: CHILLIGUY 10:04 am To: ALL My First Trip Retort (part one) I’ve never written a comprehensive trip report before and
really didn’t want to now, but I opened my big mouth and certain people are
holding me accountable, so here goes. My
memory for detail rivals that of elected officials when caught with their hand
in either the cookie jar or Cookie’s knickers.
I just don’t remember a lot of the little things in life, names,
places, tax deadlines and proper laundry separation to name a few. These lapses
create obvious problems in writing a traditional (and accurate) trip report, so
I’m just going to let loose with my thoughts on a few things. Part one will focus mostly
on places and part two on people, nightlife and the last days. This will all be written “tongue in cheek”…Meaning that at all times my tongue will indeed be in my own cheek and not exploring that of a easily impressed Hooters employee who I’ve longed to, but have yet to meet. That would make for both sloppy typing and disgusting reader comment regarding the bodily coordinates of said cheeks and frankly I’m insulted in advance that some of you might think that I would poke around in an area of questionable freshness while doing this. So, anyway, what I getting at is that I’ll try to keep this light and that if I insult anyone, well, too bad, you don’t know where I live. THE PARTICIPANTS To Rudd or not to Rudd? That was my question. I’ve done
lots of singles cruises and swore them off a few years go. They became too
predictable and frantic and even though my last was just fine, I decided to give
them up. But along came Rudd and a Sailing
list full of characters I wanted to meet. Railbait, Kelly,Bonesy, Da Big
Guy,Ass2345 ( or some numbers I don’t remember.
It was the prefix that caught my eye.) Body shot Bob and others. After meeting them it turned out that I’ve sailed with a
lot of them before. I didn’t remember them and they didn’t have
the social decency to remember me. This was a good start! A clean slate,
no memories, lawsuits or offended girlfriends to
get in the way. With few
exceptions the Delphi contributors were pretty much as they posted. Railbait was
hilarious using few words. Da Big Guy
was indeed big and had an infectious and evil laugh. Kelly had a smile that
could light up San Quentin. Bonesy certainly
was…. Dellie has a heart warmer than a tropical breeze. Mike Lee’s a good
guy, but shocked the shit out of me. Beverly,
Linda and Sheri were kinda quiet but dangerous. Jeff, a fellow GPS club member
has great Windjammer potential.. Bob
and Anne were a cute couple (well, Anne was cute, Bob was just a Bob I guess)
And Ed Rudd had a babbling brook case of
the sweats all week. So everything was pretty much as I expected with those
guys. Some of the others: Clare, Lucy and Rob were fun to watch
and fun to be with. Timmer’s a great guy and the GPS club’s-founding member.
Kat and Dee were a hoot. Robin was a first timer, was all smiles and a sure bet
to sail again. Charles was steady
and knew when to go fly his kite. Don ( a.k.a. Lloyd, Flipper, Basshole, Bottom
feeder & so on…) was way out
there and I’m sure he’s got a lady friend at home with genuine baited
breath. Jim and the whole southern Ohio crowd
were a pleasure to be around. Rick, well, ….hmmm…. might be able to read, so
I won’t say anything. And finally, Ed Gordon,
the man was (and is) a true inspiration. PUERTO'S OF CALL Our first stop after a fine sail (a little less than 24 hours, which is indeed fine) was Los Testigos. Truly a classic beach stop. Pure, soft sand, pretty water that changed hue hourly due to the discharge of about 200 bottles of refined Caribe (Though they like to, Windjammers don’t leave everyplace exactly the way they found it) and a great breeze. A lunch was brought ashore and hamburgers were promised. Now, when I think burgers, meat usually comes to mind, but it wasn’t meant to be. They were veggie-burgers and I silently dammed the McSprout lover who invented these foul patties. Anyway, it was a fine day. Charles flew his kite and some local frigate birds did some sniffing around to figure out if was worthy (and stable) enough for united flight (a bird nooner, ¼ mile high club, a little tail kinda thing) and I found it fascinating (and comforting) that other peckerd (Spell-check had a major problem with “ peckerd”. I really wanted to use “pecker” in this thought somehow, but could never get the wording just right.damm) creatures of this earth were as hard up as myself. Flotillas of blue mats and a lot of laughs made this a great day. Oh yeah, Bonesy pulled his trunks down a few times. Margarita Island was next and frankly I didn’t like the
place. Way too many people, buildings and cars. But I had a few
options for the day. I
vacillated (Big word eh? Spell-check liked it and it kinda has a kinky, grease
it up, Vaseline, make grandma gasp undertone,
so I’m pretty happy with it) about doing the Angel Falls tour. My new best
friend Railbait told me about this Ultra-light
deal where they strap you into the rear of a motorized kite and buzz you around
and annoy people on beaches, the
ship, prison yards and retirement communities. That seemed like a winner to me
because I love flying and it would give me
an opportunity to do some high-level spitting where windage and airspeed would
add to the degree of difficulty in hitting
my targets and I like a challenge. Like I said, sounds like a winner. But then
two thoughts came to mind. One was that a big-ass frigate bird (with a matching big-ass
pecker….. ok, beak..) might get amorous and at the very least cause us
to do some serious evasive maneuvering and the other, was that a lot of
women were doing the Angel Falls trip. So, I
made my decision and was no longer Railbaits best friend. I rarely do tours because at sometime or another they’re
going to cram you into a mini-van. I don’t like mini-vans! They
aren’t pleasant to look at, (they all have weak chins) and are designed
to carry children. If I were to ever buy one, it would
mean sure alimony payments in the years to come. Ahem………. Anyway, I
almost always get stuck imprisoned in a window
seat next to some social misfit whose guardians sent him away because
“they” needed a vacation. I politely smile and nod
while he explains his belief that serial killers are motivated by static
cling and my only recourse is to feign a mild brain
hemorrhage after making sure his shirt is not electrically attracted to
mine. And so it usually goes. But
not this tour! Transportation ruled and I was in internal combustion heaven.
Sure, the falls were great, in fact really
wonderful and breathtaking and I’ll get to them. But damm, getting to
them and back gave me an extended (beak? no!)
opportunity to travel in curious contraptions. The falls are roughly 350 miles from the Margarita airport
and because of our tours size two airplanes were needed and it
was explained that because of weight considerations one of the aircraft
would have to make a fuel stop an hour into the
flight. I had a feeling that the refueling airport might be remote and
interesting, that there was a decent chance that guy’s
wearing camouflage would do the refueling and that even counting the
extra gas we might be a few “kilos” heavier, so I
wormed my way onto that plane. It was an odd looking thing, held 18
passengers and along with the usual “fasten seat
belt” sign on each seat there was a Russian phrase immediately above
it. Being a worldly guy I figured the plane was
Russian and that the phrase either meant, “fasten seat belt” or “
seat belt won’t help at all, and prepare to kiss your
capitalist ass goodbye”. I was strangely comfortable with the latter
interpretation feeling that I was on vacation, and
therefore invincible. (Except for, of course, my digestive system). I was seated next to the lovely and very British Clare
during the flight. She had remarked prior to the flight that she was a
nervous flyer and tended to tightly grab hold of whoever was handy during
turbulent moments. Being the gallant weasel
that I am, I created a diversion while boarding (I blurted something out
about a strong marijuana odor and the lack of a
propeller on the right engine) bypassed a few aisle hogs and plopped down
next to her knowing full well that I put myself in
place for the cheapest of thrills, and that much closer to having a wing
dedicated to me at the loser hall of fame.
Back in flight after a disappointing refueling (and a few sadly
satisfying bumpy moments) I noticed that Jtar (the hut)
making his way to the open pilots compartment and begin speaking with
them. A few minutes later I noticed that he and
the pilot had changed positions and calmly decided that Jtar wanted to
play pilot, sit in his seat and make cool airplane
buzzing and rat-a-tat-tat sounds while keeping his hands and feet clear
of anything that controls flight. I was wrong. I fly a
lot and I’ve piloted 4 or 5 different types of small aircraft and can
usually detect altitude or course changes fairly quickly,
and I did! This guy had flown the plane for a few minutes and I had a few
immediate reactions. One was that he didn’t do
all that well if he was trying for straight and level flight. And the
other was that I was jealous. Hell, if someone other than
the pilots were going to put these passengers life in peril and have fun
at the same time I wanted it to be me. It had to be me because I’ve always
believed I was put on earth expressly for situations like this! To boldly put
myself in a position were my
competent (but limited) skills and 007 coolness would transform me from my
everyday Chilliguy existence into someone
Tom Clancy would want to write a thousand or so pages about (or something like
that, I get carried away at times I
guess). I knew we’d be starting our descent for the falls landing strip fairly
soon so I decided to stay put, and to grovel,
beg and if need be bribe my way into flying this beast. Wonderful Falls from Grace You don’t really see Angel Falls from the bottom up on
this trip. You fly in and out of the canyons surrounding it because
it’s just too remote to hoof it in unless you’ve got the time and the
inclination. I would never be so inclined. What we did
was land at an airstrip close to some smaller nearby falls (maybe 10
miles away from Angel Falls and yes, I forgot their
name, I’ll call them Fall’s lite) and prepare yourself to get really
wet. The nice people there truck you over to a lake and
here is where I got transportation woody again. You’ve got to cross a
creepy looking copper colored lake to get to Fall’s lite
and they pile you into 15 passenger trees with outboard motors to get you
there. What a great idea! Evergreens with Evenrude
outboards! I almost cried for two reasons. One was that the idea was so perfect;
the other was because I didn’t think of the idea. Ok, I guess they were really dugout
canoes, but they were one-piece trees with a 40 horsepower gasoline
engine strapped on and that was really cool and I’d love to own one.
After our tree trip a guide took over and lead us on a little walk to the
side of Fall’s lite which we would walk behind and get
really wet. On the way up we passed some tourists who had just walked
behind the falls and they all looked really wet. I kind of like to control how wet I get and how quickly I get
that wet, but a person has no control here.
The force of the falls when you get behind them is so great it sucks the
air out of you for a minute. You have to concentrate
to keep from doing an impromptu cliff dive even though there is a four foot or
so shelf your walking on, you can’t see all that well because you’re getting really wet
and all during this I couldn’t help but think that this would be a fine
place to make whoopee (preferably with a partner). In fact I told the
person behind me how I’d like to have a carnal
cave-man interlude here and didn’t hear a reply, so I spent the next
couple of minutes worried that whoever was behind
might not be female and if not, they didn’t think it was an offer.
After you get really wet the trail leads you to a beautiful
clearing where a 50-yard wide set of rapids looks over a few different
sets of falls. We spent 15 minutes or so there taking
pictures, waxing poetic and applying cream rinse, knowing that we had to
leave the way we came and get really wet again.
After another walk and tree ride we had a fine lunch, some did some
shopping, the GPS Club had a
meeting (with dry units) and then it was time for the trip back. Parked near the
airstrip were a couple of odd looking
bi-planes. Gps Jeff and I walked out to one being worked on and the mechanic
said it was a Russian designed An- (something)
and was fairly new. Really cool and while we checking it out its twin took off
and didn’t even use the runway (even
though the runway was 10 yards away). This got Jeff (he’s a pilot also) and I
charged up again to fly a little on the way
back. After take off we circled Angle
falls for a while and that view is truly a wonder. I almost expected to see a
somewhat annoyed King-Kong looking up at
us because the area looked so remote, lush and beautiful. I loved it and we
settled in for the rest of the flight.
After 20 minutes I got really antsy, the ride was smooth and figured that
there was no reason to remain seated (the “person
“ next to me was asleep, so even if it did get bumpy, well….) and I went up
to talk to the Venezuelan pilot. I started
with small talk, told him I was a pilot, asked him if he had a sister,
those kind of things and I saw him looking at my baseball cap and decided to give it to him in exchange for me
flying a little. He agreed and I started to get a little nervous.
I sat down and took the controls from the co-pilot and felt that
everything was going well until the pilot told me to look at
the climb indicator. Well, it was going up and although that’s not bad
in itself, it meant that I’d have to trim the airplane.
I’m used to small aircraft where pilot and co-pilot share a lot of the
controls, So I reached over
and used the co-pilots trim control instead of my own and the pilot just
laughed. Anyway I got it going pretty
level and after 5 minutes I told him to take over. He remarked that I did a lot
better than the other guy. I smiled back
and went to my seat feeling happy, satisfied, relieved and totally puckered.
Jeff went up a bit later and took his turn
and he seemed to do a fine job. After I had a chance to think about it,
what really amazed me was that everyone onboard
(with one exception that I know about) really weren’t bothered that we
flew this airplane. Jeff and I knew it was totally safe,
that the co-pilot could take over in a second and that we wouldn’t come
close to doing anything even remotely risky, but my guess is that most didn’t care and I still think about
that. Windjammer passengers
are indeed an amazing breed and I love them for that!!!! Upon returning to the ship my ex-new best friend Railbait
said that he did the Ultra-light Deal
with his newest best friend Bonsey. They talked about how great it was and I
knew I had to leave these two when they started arguing about who took pictures
of who, and what they were going to wear tonight. The next two stops we made were both beaches and I don’t
have a clue what they were called. I guess I really didn’t care what they were
called when we were there either. It really doesn’t matter (to me at least).
But getting there was really special.
You have to travel an inside passage through Mochima National Park and it’s
breathtaking. Sort of like sailing through
a mini Grand Canyon with dolphins. I love dolphins, but every time I see them I
always blurt out something insensitive.
It’s usually something low-key like “ we’re in shotgun range!” “ Hear
they taste a lot like chicken” or I make
some kind of tasteless “blowhole” joke. I can’t help it and it
usually kills any chance I had of getting lucky that week because females
generally lose their sense of humor around dolphins and stray
dogs…..Ahem……… Both these beaches were
ok I guess. We only stayed at the one for 3 or 4 hours because the ship
was going to move, but I do remember that my
new-old-ex-new best friend Railbait and I found a beach cabana that had a
table with a built in ashtray and some really uncomfortable chairs. The others sharing the cabana with us
weren’t nearly as impressed with the built in ashtray as we
were, but my guess is they were the same people that didn’t like my
dolphin jokes. The other beach was better (and cleaner). Captain Matt made
an arraignment with a beach restaurant owner for us to have
free use of his beach chairs and umbrellas, but warned us that we’d
have to pay for using this amigos neighbor’s beach
equipment. I arrived at the beach a little late and settled into a nice
shaded chair. Two minutes later a local man was
chattering at me and I decided I was in the wrong chairs, my shipmates
thought this was particularly funny. I didn’t though because
it meant I had to switch to a really uncomfortable chair. Why do they even have
beach chairs that elevate your thighs,
lower your butt and leave your feet dangling? You can’t lie down or stretch out in them and nobody my
age (or older) can ever hope to look even semi-cool sitting in
them. They create a disgusting fold(s) in your mid-riff at a time in life
where you just want everybody to forget you have
one. Ahem…………. We had a fun lunch at a restaurant close
by. The owner greeted everyone with shots of. …Something, and brought a rather odorous platter around showing us his
“fresh” seafood offerings. Mike Lee ordered some kind of tentacle
appetizer for everyone, I had the langoustinos, and others had that, sea
bass, barracuda or red snapper. Everyone seemed
to enjoy their meals and the owner was pretty funny, he even laughed when
I used an English to Spanish dictionary to ask
if “ any women were for rent” but I figured I’d be pushing my luck
if I tried one of my dolphin lines on him. PUERTO LA CRUEX Ok, it’s really Puerto La Cruz, but I hope you get my “
drift” by the way I butchered its name in the paragraph title. It was
our last stop and our debarkation point. This was another good-sized city
and was pretty much what I expected for a good-sized
South American city. Lot’s of cars and people again End of part one. |
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