"Stop, or I'll TOOT" - Stories from Matin d'Or

This is a tale I've been promising myself (and my friends) to write for years.  It's from my Ruff Life days in Parguera, Puerto Rico, circa 2000.  I once said I'd run the story and pictures past them for pre-approval, but I'm changing my mind; frees up my creativity.

I'm just hoping they'll still speak.

I was working at kite shop Volantines one day when this tall, blond Salty Dog with a thick British accent (which I mistook for Australian) asked,

(sic) "Hello there.  I don't know if you remember us from last year..."

To be honest, so many boaters passed through Parguera over the years, one 'stick' looked like another, but there was something familiar, I think I said.

That was the beginning of a 26 year friendship when in fact we haven't seen one another in, oh, I'd say 20 years.  But Pam and Roger are the kind of friends you can pick up a conversation with as if it were yesterday; you know what I mean.

Their sailboat, Matin d"Or, was a big Westerly Oceanmaster, close to 50-feet (seemed to me) with the tallest mast in the anchorage.  Like other cruisers, they'd stopped in Parguera for provisioning on their way to Venezuela or elsewhere south of a particular latitude before hurricane season began on June 1st.

Cruisers handed out 'boat cards' with the name of their boat, the type, often the size and other statistics, names and mailing addresses and other personal info. I have a stack somewhere, but happily Matin d'Or's was within easy reach so I could ID the make.

My Ruff Life (l) arrived (without cards) in 1998 and remained anchored in la Parguera until 2009.  Those early years were great for Parguera was still undiscovered; before the 'la' was dropped.   I typed up a page of local info (dinghy dock access, water, groceries, supplies, etc) which either Cap or I would dinghy over to newcomers.  We gave rides to marine stores and lent our PO box for deliveries.  You become fast friends quickly, being in the same boat so to speak; but then they'd move on and we'd have a chance to visit again maybe on their way back north.

But Pam and Roger really liked Parguera and for a number of years, while they cruised up and down the Caribbean, they would return and stay for a month or longer.  It was heaven for me because rare was the chance to have girl-chats in English, and Roger and Cap got along well.  We often partied with other couples in the anchorage, here's Yvonne from Holland with Pam behind.

Roger is a wine connoisseur and Matin d'Or's hold (cellar) contained a large assortment of tasty vintages (cases - I won't say how many).  He brought some from Britain and acquired others while island-hopping.

 

I loved listening to Happy Hour stories of this island and that, for even if I'd wanted to move, there were islands where Ruff Life would not have been permitted to anchor.  She was never officially documented; only an Oregon boat registration.  (L) Here's Dutchman Peter with an intentionally blurred Roger, to preserve some dignity.

The wine was nice, but what really got everyone going was Roger's famous Punch, a red concoction that kicked your ass (look, in every picture, we all drank it).  I'd be sorry the next morning, but it really was delicious; and besides, I didn't have to drive the dinghy home - just not fall out.

Over the years we shared different experiences.  Pam came to some of my classes at Michaels, where I taught Norwegian Rosemaling of all things.  Knowing my difficulty with mixing colors, she presented me with a beautiful set of six pages explaining Color Theory (l).

Pam's aids were true works of art which I treasured as much for the artistry as the knowledge.  I returned them to her for that reason years later, but not before scanning each one.  As I've said in the past, there's only so much I can fit in a coffin.

One year Matin d'Or needed a new television set, so Cap drove Roger and Pam to the Mayaguez Mall, where they found one in Sears.  The way Cap told it: They were driving around to the back side of Sears to pick it up, when a policeman on a motorcycle in front of them lost his balance and dropped his bike.  Embarassed, he looked at our car's occupants (Cap never said if they were laughing) then noticed the car didn't have a current registration sticker (we were dead broke at the time).

The policeman righted his motorcycle and walked back to Cap, demanding his license, etc.  I think he claimed Cap 'tapped' his bike and that's why he fell. It was the Memorial Day weekend and the parking lot was packed.  The officer called for backup and a number of police cars from different municipalities arrived, lights flashing, drawing a crowd.  Their intention was to 'escort' the group to the Mayaguez Police Station; until Pam asked sweetly (sic),

"Do you mind if we first go 'round to pick up our telly?"

The crowd grew, which only rattled the officers more, but after a brief confab they agreed.  Some cars left, and the remaining 4 or 5 took off, lights still flashing, with Cap in the center.  The motorcade crawled their way through the parking lot to the back side of Sears and stopped while our friends went inside.

The police still intended to haul them all down to the station, but while waiting they finally reached their Supervisor who astutely decided it wouldn't be a good look for tourism.  They told Cap to return the next day with the sticker and fined him $250; might as well have been $250,000.

Cap, of course, wanted to fight the fine and dragged Roger with him to court.  Roger wore shorts and flip-flops, but his size and accent apparently impressed the Judge enough to scrap the fine, or significantly reduce it.  I think the officer was admonished for making such a fuss.

Friends Gayle and Joey, whose vast spread (r) is along the southwest coast enjoyed entertaining and always welcomed drop-ins, so we'd include Pam & Roger whenever they were in the anchorage.  A good time was had by all; I know everyone has great memories.

I also know from experience that while cruising it's nice to be included in the local culture in more intimate ways (as compared to the Vegetable Lady you see each morning);  which makes the experience that much more enjoyable.  Pam and Rog are personable and loads of fun, and easily fit in.

We'd reciprocate on Ruff Life, even though the venue was smaller; made even smaller by the inevitable RAIN which accompanied 99.9% of my get-togethers, most frustrating.

At the time, and I assume still, my friends were far advanced in the ways of computers.  I watched them experience the frustration of finding compatible-this for their laptop-that; which reminded me of Aunt Cathy learning  to use her first microwave in 1973.  Not me, no thanks, I thought both times.

Yet here I am, 'prattling on' about nothing in particular.  I learned phrases like 'faffing about' (puttering) and 'cock-a-snoot' (thumb your nose at).  Always fun to learn more about furriners, isn't it?

I'd become a licensed Artesana working with higueras, seen here drying in a hammock on the top deck.  But if you look closely in the background you can see Roger in one of his favorite spots for chillin' while tannin'.

I once asked Roger (for the purpose of this article) a bit about his background with England's police force.  These notes don't make sense and are my words, but it'll give you a sense:

- 10 yrs Inspector

- Well-respected
- Ran counter-terrorist search team ('80s, Thatcher)
- Hotel bombing.

I only now looked that up and I'm assuming this is it:

"The hotel bombing during Margaret Thatcher's term was the Brighton hotel bombing, an assassination attempt targeting Thatcher and her cabinet at the Grand Hotel in Brighton, England."

Not everyone's CV includes something as James Bond-ish as that.  So one day, Roger and Cap were discussing the differences in police tactics; in particular the peculiarity (to us) of British Bobbies to carry whistles instead of firearms.

"So what do you say when you're chasing a subject, 'Stop, or I'll TOOT!'"

I always thought that'd be the perfect title.  That first year, Pam painted this charming watercolor of Ruff Life from their vantage point.

Eventually, as cruisers inevitably do, Pam and Rog tired of the lifestyle, not to mention all the hard work and expense.  They sold Matin d'Or and went back to their comfy home in Herfortshire; where Pam faffs about in her garden and Roger cocks-a-snootful at his tastings.

It's hard to convey the happy feeling of a familiar sailboat coming into the anchorage, or the sadness watching it leave.  But that's cruising - always comings and goings.

I'm sure I'll see my friends again some day...on dry land.

Cheers, my friends!