Each and every morning (except Sunday) the Cruisers Net cheerfully chirps a "Good Mooorninnnggg Grenaaay-da" wake up call at precisely 07:30 on VHF 66 and then goes on to broadcast the Weather, Activities of the Day (or the Week), Treasures of the Bilge and well, anything and everything that might end being the topic of conversation for that day.

It's been hot, and hot, and hazy, and a few too many flies for our enjoyment trying to think our cabin is their home, but truly, after a few days of exploring, we are really finding this anchorage by Hog Island ideal. We are just inside the reef thus sheltered from the roll, as well as sheltered a tad by the island itself. We are also an equidistant dinghy drive away from both Clarke's Court Marina, Whisper Cove Marina, and perhaps even Secret Harbour., however, we are using up gas like nobody's business driving to and fro.

So on our first day here, we decided to better our bearings (or better yet, we needed some cash), grabbed a bus and headed to town.

We dinghied over to Whisper Cove, followed the path whilst in my best (wheezy) whiney voice, I questioned:

"Dave hon, WHY are we ALWAYS walking UP around here?"



And a little further up, we turned around to get a great view of Woburn Bay and the anchorage. If you follow the water out, go under the bridge, and there towards the horizon, you can barely make us out anchored near the left somewhere around there.



Once we reached the main road, there was some spectacular backdrop scenery,



and not even 2 seconds later there was a mini-van type bus that came to a screeching halt as it careened round the corner at full speed, honking his horn, and I don't even know if his eyes had time to focus on us standing by the side of the road that he was instantly stopped and telling us to climb aboard. Um, okay ? I know OUR eyes hadn't even had time to focus on whether this was actually THE bus we were supposed to take?

"Good morning" we chimed in unison, as we hunched down to get in (me not so much), tried to fold ourselves in such as way so as not to stick any body parts in the faces of the already seated people, and found two free seats in the back. The music was blaring a loud bass thumping reggae type beat that pretty soon had us bobbing our heads in rhythm. And just like that, with a screech of the wheels, a honk of the horn and we were off again.

The bus experience here is just that, AN EXPERIENCE and you can't help but get on and enjoy the ride. There don't seem to be (m)any official bus stops or even regularly scheduled bus stop times, which coming from our rigidly scheduled (and could we call it efficient ?? Canadian bus system), is a totally new concept for us.

People get on whenever, wherever. (Almost) everyone says good morning or evening or something when they climb aboard. You want to get off? Simple, knock on the ceiling (or anything that makes noise) and how the bus driver hears you above the music is still beyond me, but stop he does. Even if it is two feet from where he JUST dropped someone off. How the cars behind the buses don't go crazy with this type of stop and go traffic is beyond me!!

Once arrived in the main terminal of St George's, we walked to the bank for some cash, resting for a moment under the awnings of stores in order to wait for a lull in the rain while the Grenadian's patiently waited for it to stop altogether. And in time it did, as our impatience showed we have much to learn!

We visited the open air market in the warm pouring rain, where once again the first vendor in the aisle got our undivided attention,



and sales of a bottle of vanilla and some curry, along with the phone number of her son who is "the best" taxi driver on the island, and before another vendor could catch our eyes we hi-tailed it out of there, and headed back to the main terminal. Where we breathed a sigh of relief as we found the Woburn West bus and got in smiling at the fact that it was close to empty and we relished the thought of getting back to Whisper Cove in tranquil comfort.

Buses, from what I gather, are really privately-owned vans. There's the owner who is usually the driver and we noticed that sometimes a second person sits by the side door that he opens as the bus is still moving to allow you to get in (no wasting time here!) accepts payments, watches for people, or listens for that very famous knock.

The bus seats oh, perhaps 15 people or so? Safely? Perhaps ten?

Oh no !!! We uneasily looked at each other and our hopes of tranquil comfort quickly got dashed. Why? We'd lost count after the 20th person got on the bus. I think Dave couldn't mumble much of anything about anything as his knees were pushed high up under his chin in an oblique type of twist and in relative discomfort as the conductor found yet another "bench type of seat" that he miraculously pulled out from under our seat so that yet another person could come onboard.

Seat belts? Forget it. Safety hats might more be like it. I had visions of the bus breaking in half as we swung wildly 'round yet another corner tires screeching on the very narrow roads and roller-coastering our way up/down the incredibly steep hills.

Buses or cars honk their horns as they come round the mostly blind rocky cliff-sided corners. Thank goodness the music was so loud, I wasn't focusing on how many honks were coming at us. Or from behind us as cars were hoping to pass, (on a corner?). And thank goodness there were so many people in the bus, I couldn't see the edge of the road that should our tires not meet pavement and take a tumble, we would end up rolling quite unfashionably head over heels down the mountainside and into the first banana tree that might save us. Next time you see a blemished banana, think of the Grenadian bus drivers.

Then the driver noticed someone standing by the side of the road, yelled something unintelligible, stopped, picked up what looked like a brown paper bag full of goodies, and a few stops later, it got delivered to someone else. Better we not know what all that was about eh? It must've been a private conversation, after all the driver spends all his time on his cell phone. While driving. And honking. And since that isn't enough, he needs to adjust the volume of the music ever higher.

Obviously we made it back safe and sound, and allowed our knees to stop shaking as we sat in the Whisper Cove Marina waiting for the rain to stop, so we could dinghy home.



We were told that the Grenada Bus is an Experience and that it is. But truth be told, the experience was fun. It works. It's fast. it's cheap. Get on, hold on, enjoy the wild ride and be-bop to the music, remember to knock if you want to get off, and hell ya, don't worry about it.