Arrived after a very long flight and we were all shattered. Grenada is a beautiful island and it looks like it is going to be a very picturesque shoot. We all headed out for dinner and ventured into a Sushi bar – yes, a bit of strange choice for the Caribbean, but the fish restaurant was closed. It was Luke’s first foray into this Japanese delight and unfortunately we neglected to tell him that wasabi was a type of radish and not avocado. It was not a very pleasant experience.
Archive for April, 2009
The most momentous thing in the last two weeks has been the building of Noah’s sandpit. I was determined to get this cracked before the next trip. It was a Father’s quest for his son; and having just read a book about Viking’s and feeling like I could suddenly carve a longboat out of the only tree in our garden, there was no stopping me digging a sandpit in the rabbit pen. It was destined to be a great sandpit and then I ordered 3 tonnes of sand to fill it and things started to get complicated.
There is a good reason I’m a vet and not a builder and this is a prime example why I’d never make it in the trade. In all honesty I very much doubt I could carve a longboat either, and if I did, there would always be the nagging worry it might not float. Thinking sand would compress so I would need more than whatever I worked out was necessary, I went online and found a website calculation that would work out what I needed. Cords quietly pointed out to me that this particular website calculation might have been encouraging me to buy more sand off the company sponsoring it, a very valid point, and as it turned out, a correct one; but it was too late, and so the five times washed, best quality in the world sand, was ordered in a heartbeat and well on its way before I realised I could have been a touch hasty.
Three tonnes of sand on the road outside your house is a lot of sand. I know that now. The lorry couldn’t get up the drive (too big) the pallet trolley wouldn’t run on gravel, it was also the Thursday before Good Friday and there was no way the delivery driver was going to spend more than 7.5 seconds doing his last delivery of the day at 2.30pm to give it much effort. This meant when I got home about 7.30pm I had to somehow shift three tonnes of sand off the road (fairly lethal threat to the unassuming motorist weaving their way along the unmarked lane through the village) before it got dark at 7.45pm. Pretty much as soon as my truck pitched up at the house, half the neighbours descended on our house to discuss the merits of my sand delivery with Cords, whilst I got a wheelbarrow and an oversized trowel out the shed.
Like every man, I secretly wanted to own the biggest shovel in the village and I was feeling a touch inadequate, but being a wonderful village, the sort of place where everyone knows everyone, it was only about ten minutes before Nick from next door turned up with his wheelbarrow and (much larger) shovel and Malcolm came over with a couple of cold beers to re-energise us. Dave tried to help but it was getting crowded as Mark down the road offered to get his tractor and pallet forks and lift them onto the drive. What seemed to be a nightmare job turned into a brilliant Thursday night and the English village spirit was strong on our road that night. In fact the whole exercise got me in a great mood for the whole Easter break – admittedly the sandpit is more like a beach (deceptively deep one) but Noah loves it and it got me all set up for stepping back into the alternate reality of making this series.
So here I am, two weeks after Malawi, sitting on a plane, bouncing my way to Grenada. Still hate flying, not a fan of turbulence and the air steward can’t walk past me without crashing into my knee which simply won’t fit into the space in front of my seat. Maybe he’s trying to reassure me with a bit of human touch as we bounce up and down fifty feet but neither that, nor the dazzling smile he keeps giving me, are doing much to put me at ease. I think it’s time for a drink if I can manage it without spilling it everywhere.
Adam (boss / cameraman / Sly Stallone the ‘fiery Italian‘), Nathan (soundman / ‘Bruce Lee‘), Marc (series producer / ‘Big Chuck‘) are in the usual spots all telling Clive (vet, buddy, Noah’s Godfather, tough South African) to say lefty loosey, righty tighty to me all the time in reference to my inability to under a broken windscreen wiper whilst we were in Kenya last year. Great to have Clive on the trip, the support will be awesome and will make doing the work, whilst working with the camera, much easier. Be a winner just to have another vet to bounce ideas off as well as someone else to share this surreal experience with. Been on loads of trips with Clive so only fitting we nail a few of these tv ones together.
Grenada is the self proclaimed ‘Isle of Spice’. It comprises of three islands, each one a little gem of paradise in the southern tip of the Caribbean. Famed for secluded coves, sandy beaches, blue skies, inland mountain trails not to mention stunning corals, sunken shipwrecks and amazing dive sites off the coast; sadly little time to enjoy the islands delights as we’re going there to help the GSPCA and their uphill battle to make a stand against animal cruelty which is apparently a huge problem in the country. Time to find out…
It seems that nobody apart from me got any sleep last night. We are staying in an apartment above the GSPCA and one of the dogs decided that he would howl and bark his way through the night. Thankfully, I managed to get quite a bit of sleep – I can sleep through pretty much anything. When I ventured out of my room in the morning it looked as if Adam wanted to throttle the aforementioned dog.
We were all a bit sleepy during the first day’s filming, constantly getting in each other’s way and not being able to string a complete sentence together. The button dog was an interesting case, although I think Luke was getting a bit annoyed at me for asking him the point of the buttons.
Hectic first day. Dazzling sunshine outside – apparently. We were in the clinic today working with Emma, the new graduate Grenadian vet and the team at the GSPCA. Peggy is a dynamo and has done so much to set up this fantastic clinic after the hurricane devastated it in 2004. Great feel to the place, really nice team to work with and a good start. Clive battled to spay a pituitary-challenged weimeranaer with ehlrichiosis whilst I worked with Emma to do a few ops and go over a couple of new techniques. She is very competent and I don’t think I added much to her surgical prowess but it was fun to sort out an aural haematoma using the button technique (where you stitch lots of buttons to the dogs ear after draining the blood out of it – the buttons evenly distribute pressure and stop the blood reforming)and it‘s always good to see how we are all trained in slightly different techniques. Met a dog owner who is the ultimate hardcore adventurer – he and his family (wife, little girl and dog) have spent the last five years on the high seas. His little girl was on the boat from six weeks old. Sailed from Thailand, across the Indian Ocean, across the Med and Atlantic Ocean and is now harbouring here for a little while. Really nice guy with the ultimate can-do attitude. It’s always inspiring to meet people like that.
Tomorrow we are heading out to the communities, but the biggest challenge will be sleeping through the night. We’re all staying in rooms above the clinic and there is a sweet little dog in with a retro bulbar abscess behind it’s eye that howls constantly. Adam and Marc are tearing their hair out as they can’t sleep a wink with any animal related noises and although we’ve made the dog as comfortable as possible for the night, I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s simply not used to sleeping indoors and is going to start howling again at 3am. Time will tell but if we all look a bit bleary eyed tomorrow (with the exception of ‘Bruce’ who is apparently immune to night-time external stimuli) – I promise it isn’t the rum…
I don’t like cold showers. Only 8 more days of them!
Sharing a room with Nathan. He is a warm shower boy – don’t want to go into details here.
Loving the heat and I think, combined with cold showers, it’s a real winner. Sleep is a bit of an issue for pretty much everyone at the moment except Nathan. He can sleep anywhere at any point during the day or night. I haven’t seen it, but I bet he can sleep standing up.
Great thing about this job is that you never stop learning. To follow Nathan’s lesson theme, here is one: When producing an animal programme, never sleep on top of an animal shelter! … unless you are Nathan.
Big community day – heading to the poorest communities of Grenada. Large mix of fairly scary looking pit bull terriers and other rangy street dogs. Lot of skin problems, one dog had been bitten by a mongoose, another had a foreign body between it’s toes (which we sedated and flushed), couple of TVT’s (transmissible venereal tumours) – course of vincristine and arranged to be neutered, and the standard array of bite wounds and flea, tick and worm infestations. One chap we met runs a rum shop/bar out of a shack, big fella with dreads and a large gold tooth – came out first with a huge pit bull terrier proudly telling me it had killed ten other dogs that had come onto his territory – he then returned moments later with a little cavalier king charles spaniel which he sheepishly brought me for treatment (had KCS – dry eye). Big tough guy with his tough dog for show and then his little lap dog he clearly dotes on. Really sweet little dog. I have my suspicions that his big pit bull isn’t quite as fierce as he made out as well, it wagged its tail like mad when I was examining it and it seemed almost as soft as the little CKC! He was a very friendly guy as well so I think the bravado was a bit for show for the crowd as much as anything else.
People are really friendly and seemed very happy for us to pitch up and do the treatments. Didn’t see any real signs of cruelty or abuse, more neglect and ignorance as is normally the case. Amazing to dip just over the hill, not a mile from the luxurious coast and white sandy beaches to find just impoverished wooden shacks that no tourist would ever realise were there. All the kids were flying home made kites which made dazzling displays above us as we worked.
Rest of the team are on form. Clive is deep in the zone wearily rolling his eyes every time I try to mix two drugs in the same syringe whilst trying to carefully steer me on the right track as I fire out drugs and treatments to any animal that comes in range. It’s great to have his help on the clinics, despite me corrupting his perfectionist approach to each case, he’s a huge asset with the tricky ones and it’s brilliant having someone to bounce ideas off. Adam seems pretty chilled which is great, Nathan is carrying stuff a lot and I think Marc’s a bit worried about gripping stories so fingers crossed we find something really hardcore to get stuck into on Carriacou where we are heading by boat tomorrow.
The highlight of today will have to be the rescuing of a hawksbill turtle and releasing it back into the sea. They’re a critically endangered species and it was pretty lucky of us to be able to film one. However, as I’m sitting here on the veranda looking out over the beautiful beach that is directly in front of us all I can think about is the fact that I paid $20 for five beers from a bar by the beach after we filmed the turtle. The sun had obviously got to me and I thought I was back in London in some trendy media bar! I’ll never be in charge of our group money again… or maybe that was my plan…
I’m writing today’s entry sitting on the balcony of our apartment about fifty metres from the beach. The sun seems to be almost reluctant in its gradual sinking descent below the horizon, there is a cool Caribbean breeze gently coming in off the sea and it’s by far the most relaxing evening of the trip to date. Adam is getting to grips with the night camera whilst teaching us some handy Italian phrases that you would never repeat to your Mother, Nathan is composing a Spanish love letter to his current favourite senorita, Marc is shaving his beard and Clive is stressing about a misbehaving locum who is supposed to be manning his practice back home.
Carriacou is a world apart from Grenada, it’s almost like stepping back in time. Everyone is very relaxed, there are a lot less people and the vibe is very much Caribbean time. This isn’t quite as bad as Africa time, but it’s a close run thing.
The big thing that happened immediately after our arrival on the island (the largest of the Grenadines) – was that we rescued a critically endangered hawksbill turtle from a local fisherman under the direction of Dario who runs the KIDO foundation. I instinctively liked Dario, his enthusiasm and outspoken passion for conserving the turtles second to none and he rattled off about a million facts about hawksbill turtles before we had even got the poor creature into the boat. Sadly the fisherman had cracked its plastron but we think it should heal fine and to be very honest, the options for hospitalisation and treatment for a 45year old female hawksbill turtle are limited. Clive has seen innumerate tortoises recover from those sort of injuries without any additional treatment so fingers crossed she is okay.
It was an amazing experience to be involved in the whole process and one I won’t forget in a hurry. They are beautiful creatures that are often caught up in the fishing lines that lace the islands reefs and corals. Although illegal for non-locals to catch them (they are CITES listed with over 90% of their population having been wiped out in the last ten years) under Grenada Fisheries law it is actually LEGAL for locals to catch turtles, from September 1 to April 30 (the only ‘year round’ protected turtle is the Leatherback (also because there is little demand locally, few people actually enjoy its oily tough meat). So during the legal hunting season Kido purchases the live turtles, which would otherwise suffer abominably for three/four days on their back, dragged all about before being finally put out of their misery (to date they have rescued 261 mature turtles).
There is no other way he can get the turtles off the fishermen and it’s a society of chilled compromise where strong arm tactics would never work. I admire his tenacity and although a very controversial way to try to protect them, he is pragmatic about what he can do and what will work. Once we had the turtle three miles out to sea, to avoid any more fishing lines, we popped her back in the water and she swam off at incredible speed. An amazing experience.
Eggs and nesting turtles are illegal to tamper with at all times. Unfortunately enforcement is non existent and since the eggs are supposedly an aphrodisiac they are prime targets, Kido patrol the beaches between march and August and their presence on the nesting beaches, community vigilance and training of local youths is proving to be effective. The grand plan is that we will join them one night this week so fingers crossed it all works out.
Sadly there was also a catastrophe today. It transpires that Bruce can’t buy beer. He has no concept of money and managed to pay over three times the asking price for a round of tiny bottled beers. In short, he can’t be trusted with such incredibly important tasks and has taken a verbal beating from all of us for a good couple of hours (and will continue to do so tomorrow probably).
