Salt Cay In The Fall

It is November on Salt Cay. Hurricane season is over and storms are just, well, storms. Manta Rays have been seen by divers and soon the whales will be heard making their siren calls in the water. When you hear that, you know the whales are coming.

Salt Cay is typically quiet in November as low season comes to an end. Soon the homeowners of Salt Cay will start arriving from Canada, all over the US and Europe to begin a stay that could last well into April or May.

Left: South of Dunscomb Point after Tomas

We arrived November 1 for a 3 week stay and planned to hit the water and check out the mantas, work on the pickup, take down the storm shutters and prepare the Compass Rose for the rental season ahead.

No sooner than we arrived and we started planning our hurricane preparations as Hurricane Tomas tore through St. Lucia with a vengeance. As predicted, he made a hard, hard turn to the north and headed right for us. Every "spaghetti" storm model (those maps with lots of colored lines) had Tomas pretty much coming over our house and Salt Cay. The eye of the storm that was predicted to be maybe a Category 1, 2 or 3 storm. It all depended on how strong he got over the Caribbean Sea and how much Hispaniola (Haiti and the Dominican Republic) and Cuba took out of him over land.

The Haitian's, already beleaguered by politics, history, the devastating earth quake of late and now another hurricane, did not need to be the saving grace for us.

The dock and sea wall project was well underway with heavy equipment and tons of cement in huge bags a crane picks up to mix with. They had to take everything off the seawall and prepare for high seas. The District Commissioner and a couple of Haitian workers spread tarps in 15-20 mph hour gusting winds to protect the precious cement for the project. I put all my weight into trying to hold down a tarp corner and it took everything I had to hold it while someone else wired them together, secured it with rocks, plywood, steel beams…anything that had weight and could spend the night outside.

Fortunately, we were prepared at the Rose. I was prepared because when I was here in August, Hurricane Igor came through as well. I had Lucknor (my handyman) and his friend Ronald (both very nice Haitian gentlemen) fit every piece of plywood and t-111 there was on the property to our big patio screen windows. Fortunately we had lots of that left over from cement forms and it worked well. When I departed September 1, I left it up, just in case something else roared through before I could get back.

Let me set the record straight on something about me and hurricanes. I am an adventurer, but I am not a sadistic adventurer. I do not wish hurricanes on any island or country, but, if one is happening, I am not averse to being there to experience it firsthand. Igor was a bust as an adventure which was fine for everyone, including me when all was said and done. He came through with winds that barely mussed my hair and little rain. I learned that a hurricane can be boring when one sits for hours waiting for something to happen, that never really happens.

Tomas was shaping up as a different story and here we were, smack dab in the middle of it yet again.

Charts show Tomas steered a little west and we got more on the outer band; he gained hurricane status back at Haiti, then lost his oomph over the TCI and for that we are forever grateful, including me.

Now all who know me know that I am not a religious person; lapsed Catholic would be giving me far too much religion. But back in 2005, when Hurricane Frances roared through here and did little damage to Salt Cay for all its 100+ winds, I came back on the first flight into Salt Cay on a planned fall trip. Frances lashed Florida hard, but somehow Salt Cay was spared given the direction of the storm. I made a bet with a friend, a fellow home owner, that I'd go to Anglican services on Sunday if Salt Cay came out safe.

I was happily at the first service that Sunday where Holton "Polie" Dickenson, the catechist of St. John's Anglican Church celebrated our lucky stars. Since then I have always attended at least one service on a trip, especially if there has been a storm or some event is taking place. Church on Salt Cay is the social backbone of the community.

I went to church today since it was Sunday after a hurricane. I can handle a little religion but the time to reflect, think and just coast among good friends whom I love dearly is a respite sometimes even for the likes of me. Polie, leading the service and Maurice Simmons (our property manager) always make sure I am in the right book and on the right page…they keep an eye on me so I get the full service experience, hymns and prayers alike. Little do they realize I just like being there amongst them and being taken care of for 90 minutes or so while my mind lets go in abstract ways. Then I will hear, like today: "Page 56, page 56….(Maurice looking at me directly over his glasses to assist me)…blue book, page 56 in the blue book" Ok, ok, page 56, I'll get there…why so many books by the way?

Everyone hugs everyone at church. Everyone sings at the top of their voices, good, bad or shall we say, without pitch. Miss Rosalie or Miss Vida plays the new organ. Herbert Simmons passes the collection basket. Eloisa Dickenson smiles proudly as Polie does the service and leads his flock; Ma Lucy is feeling well and is oriented to time and place today; Miss Lillian, 93 years old (now our oldest citizen) is there in a perfectly clean and spotless white outfit, hat to shoes white….she takes NO medication at all and when I tried to help her out of the pew she accepted but said she didn't need any help. She did, that's how she stays spotless…but she's spunky. Ken, from Massachusetts, has been coming here for years and we sat together. He is a regular, member of the congregation as I recall, whereas I am but a visitor.

That is what is always so interesting to me is the fascinating people I learn more about or collect while here. I always meet someone new or get to know someone I hadn't yet had the chance to get to know.

The chicken population at the Rose has been decimated by marauding dogs with a taste for chicken. A lone hen has brought another 3 hens around to share the grain I brought. Still no rooster after a dog, who will remain anonymous here, killed my red strutter in the yard in August.

The usual cats are hanging around: Spirit, Blackie, Blackie 2, and a new tabby who seems "softer" for a feral cat, that I've named Precious. Or she/he is working on being precious. They really like the dry cat food I brought and put on a dinner show every night and are waiting at the first sign of the door opening for their breakfast. When Joel sat in bed eating his oatmeal and drinking coffee, Spirit decided to get in the window and hope he got something. Of course he won't let you pet him and jumps 6 feet when you try, but now it's only 6 feet and closing.

And, suffice it to say we have not been in the water yet since we are not prepared to swim home from either Grand Turk or Puerto Plata since the current has changed several times and running strong.