When we left the doctor's office, it was almost dark, not a safe time for the two of us to be walking the streets and riding the bus. We high-tailed it back to the marina without getting the prescriptions filled. Bob was doubtful that he would take all that medicine and was thinking he would select one antibiotic and skip the rest. However, he talked to a cruiser/nurse who strongly recommended that he follow the doctor's full plan "if he valued his toe." Apparently, the offending fish is quite dangerous.
We had five Cipro, one of the antibiotics prescribed by the doctor, so Bob started taking them. By the time we got to a pharmacy two days later, his toe was so much better that he just got another seven days of Cipro and disregarded all the other medications. As the blood blister on the toe dried and began to peel off, you could see that the poison had actually eaten away the tissue at the deep puncture site. The raw skin of the toe had to be bandaged for another week and a half. Several layers of skin gradually peeled off around the extended area of the puncture. Someone compared the fish toxin to the toxin in a brown recluse spider bite, but we have no personal knowledge about the spider, only about the fish.
We were not anxious to leave for Trinidad as it was having its share of problems. Surge from one of the storms caused damage to some boats. One of our acquaintances, a young female single-hander (she sails alone) on Hope, had her boat tied to a pier when the freak surge came in. Her boat bounced on the bottom for hours, breaking her dock lines and doing major structural damage to the hull. Then there was an oil spill. Apparently it was crude oil, goopy black tarry stuff. Docks, boats, dinghies, fenders, lines, everything in the water, was black. Then people got it on their feet and tracked it all over their boats and the marinas. The source of the spill was not identified and no one was taking responsibility. The detergent provided was so strong that it damaged some of the painted boats. Older unpainted boats with porous oxidized sides were absorbing the blackness. The newer boats did better but no one was happy about the mess.
On Thursday, October 5, as we were preparing to leave Puerto La Cruz, a familiar boat motored into the marina. We hadn't seen Toluso since the Abacos almost two years ago. Pronounced [tuh loo' so], the name was derived from the attitude, "Tole you so." We got to visit with them for about five minutes before heading out. We only went about twenty miles to Oculto to spend the night and stage for Margarita. There had been a misty, sprinkling rain, but as we arrived at the anchorage, a black thundercloud came rolling in with jagged streaks of lightning, loud claps of thunder, and a torrential downpour. Visibility dropped to about a hundred feet just as we went through the cut between the islands. We unplugged both laptops and put them into the oven to protect them in case of a lightning strike. The visibility improved enough to see the other boats in the anchorage so we could pick out a good spot to anchor. Bob was absolutely drenched as he dropped the anchor and was chilled to the bone by the time we backed down to set it.
The next morning at first light, we left for Margarita. It was an absolutely exquisite day, blue skies and calm seas. The wind was dead on our nose for the entire trip of 53 miles and we just motored without trying to sail. It would have taken us at least twice as long if we had sailed and we needed to get in before dark. When we arrived at Porlamar, we saw many boats which had come from Grenada when Hurricane Joyce threatened. Boats we hadn't seen since the Bahamas were there, Free Radical, Mistral, Graycrest, our sister ship Spirit Borne, Elan, Cambia, and others.