The Day I Cleaned Up a Shipwreck
When they told me my new title would be "International Hotelier," I figured it would be a life of sipping Mai Tais, chatting with my new best friends Rihanna and Sammy Hagar poolside, and generally working on my tan. Well, let me tell you, this is not the case. Not only have Rihanna and Sammy Hagar not been over to visit, but I have purchased no rum whatsoever. (My tan, however, is killer.)
What I have learned is that "International Hotelier" is really a form of shorthand. Yes, it does sound cool (especially if you pronounce it "ho-tel-yay"), The long version of the title is simply a list of sweaty, grueling, disgusting, dangerous, and I must say, strangely fulfilling list of sub-titles. So far, this list includes carpenter, machete-wielder, demolition expert, cook, rodent-killer, launderer, and more. However, this week, I added internet installer, and yes, shipwreck-cleaner-upper.
First, the internet. Al Gore was indeed a genius for inventing the internet, but what Al failed to tell me is that the internet requires wires. You see, the property is pretty big. So big, in fact, that my humble internet router that is based in our bungalow covers only about 25% of the property. This means that when I'm wandering the grounds, streaming my favorite yacht rock playlist on YouTube, I couldn't wander very far from the bungalow. To rectify this issue, I purchased two additional routers and a couple hundred feet of ethernet cable. The problem, however, is that you can't have wires running willy-nilly over the place. To aggravate this problem, the wiring between the bungalow and the main building is run underground, through 3/4" PVC pipe buried in the ground.
So, faced with the daunting task of threading 100' of ethernet cable through 80' of 3/4" buried PVC pipe, I did what any red-blooded American would do- I just started shoving it in. This went well for the first four feet, at which point the PVC pipe turned at a right angle. Again, using the "might makes right" theory of construction, I simply jammed the cable in harder. This went on for about an hour, with no progress whatsoever. Cursing Al Gore and his fucking internet, I went back to the drawing board.
Stymied, I turned to the greatest resource of hillbilly wisdom on the planet- YouTube. It turns out, the solution to my problem involved a Shop-Vac, fishing line, and a burst of hillbilly genius. "Dusty Guy," that magnificent bastard, showed me the way. All you need to do is this: (1) duct tape a Shop-Vac tube to one end of the PVC pipe, (2) turn on Shop-Vac, (3) tie piece of plastic bag to end of fishing line, (4) put piece of plastic bag at other end of PVC pipe, (5) allow Shop-Vac to suck plastic bag (and fishing line) through pipe, (6) remove Shop-Vac tube, (7) untie plastic bag from fishing line and tie ethernet cable to fishing line, and (8) pull fishing line (tied to ethernet cable), back through PVC pipe. VOILA!
Using Dusty Guy's technique, I ran the rest of the ethernet cables with ease. After plugging in the routers, (and with IT genius help from Davin), I have brought the internet to the entire Lionfish Hotel campus. So, future Lionfish guests, when you are streaming your favorite yacht rock YouTube mix on the patio, remember today's lesson: when you try jamming something in unsuccessfully for an hour, sometimes a little sucking will make the job way easier...HAY-O!!
So, on to the shipwrecks. Yes, plural.
In the corner of the property, near the boat launch, existed a large pile of trash. This pile of trash was pretty big, and so we ordered a dumpster delivered and it was up to yours truly to move said pile of trash into said dumpster. Now, I've moved plenty of piles of trash in my career, so I was ready for pretty much everything. The trash pile did not disappoint: normal boards, broken drywall, rebar, 1,287 cockroaches, etc. However, after a few feet, the trash turned weird. Pieces of fiberglass, unknown rusted machine parts, and plastic in strange shapes began to appear. As the day was ending and I was weary, I dutifully put all of the trash in the dumpster and went to bed,
Turns out, what I had cleared up was a shipwreck from a boat that sunk in the harbor during a hurricane many years ago. When the ship sank, pieces of the boat washed up on the shore of our property. I, of course, knowing this was indeed a shipwreck, went back for the obvious- buried treasure. In researching buried treasure in Turks and Caicos (what can I say, after the sun sets I have a lot of down time), I discovered that TCI has a rich pirate history. In fact, the Turks and Caicos Islands were front and center during the "Golden Age of Piracy," from 1650 to 1730. Such notable pirates as Anne Bonne, Calico Jack Rakham, Stede Bonnet the Gentleman Pirate, and Blackbeard, were said to have traveled and camped on the islands. The original name of Parrot Cay (one of the smaller islands), was actually Pirate Cay.
Germane to my inquiry, however, was the story of Captain William Kidd. It is rumored that Captain Kidd's buried treasure is in the Turks and Caicos Islands. That's right, the treasure that inspired Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Island" may be lurking right under my feet! In fact, in 1976 they conducted an excavation of a cave on Providenciales looking for Kidd's treasure. They were unsuccessful, which means the treasure is waiting for me.
I scoured the area pretty well, but sadly, uncovered no pirate booty. I will, however, keep my eyes out for a metal detector, or any shiny things sticking out of the beach at the end of the canal.
Strangely, it was not the only shipwreck that crossed my path this week.
On Saturday night, a fishing boat burned and partially sunk in the harbor. Sleeping the sleep of the just, Amy and I slept right through it. The ship belonged to a local with the nickname of "Rambo." The funny thing is Rambo is nowhere to be found, and is still at large. The scuttlebutt is that Rambo left the island a while back, never to return. In any event, it took the local salvage crane two days to pull Rambo's boat from the harbor. If and when Rambo returns, he owes a healthy salvage bill and multiple fines arising from the sinking.
Well, Amy just returned from her painting class.
(That's right, while I dutifully chronicle the history of the Lionfish, Amy drinks wine and hangs out with her girls.) I will continue to hunt for Captain Kidd's treasure, and if this blog suddenly stops, means I am fleeing the country with undeclared doubloons.
Next Up: New Friends.
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| The second shipwreck I have dealt with. |
First, the internet. Al Gore was indeed a genius for inventing the internet, but what Al failed to tell me is that the internet requires wires. You see, the property is pretty big. So big, in fact, that my humble internet router that is based in our bungalow covers only about 25% of the property. This means that when I'm wandering the grounds, streaming my favorite yacht rock playlist on YouTube, I couldn't wander very far from the bungalow. To rectify this issue, I purchased two additional routers and a couple hundred feet of ethernet cable. The problem, however, is that you can't have wires running willy-nilly over the place. To aggravate this problem, the wiring between the bungalow and the main building is run underground, through 3/4" PVC pipe buried in the ground.
So, faced with the daunting task of threading 100' of ethernet cable through 80' of 3/4" buried PVC pipe, I did what any red-blooded American would do- I just started shoving it in. This went well for the first four feet, at which point the PVC pipe turned at a right angle. Again, using the "might makes right" theory of construction, I simply jammed the cable in harder. This went on for about an hour, with no progress whatsoever. Cursing Al Gore and his fucking internet, I went back to the drawing board.
Stymied, I turned to the greatest resource of hillbilly wisdom on the planet- YouTube. It turns out, the solution to my problem involved a Shop-Vac, fishing line, and a burst of hillbilly genius. "Dusty Guy," that magnificent bastard, showed me the way. All you need to do is this: (1) duct tape a Shop-Vac tube to one end of the PVC pipe, (2) turn on Shop-Vac, (3) tie piece of plastic bag to end of fishing line, (4) put piece of plastic bag at other end of PVC pipe, (5) allow Shop-Vac to suck plastic bag (and fishing line) through pipe, (6) remove Shop-Vac tube, (7) untie plastic bag from fishing line and tie ethernet cable to fishing line, and (8) pull fishing line (tied to ethernet cable), back through PVC pipe. VOILA!Using Dusty Guy's technique, I ran the rest of the ethernet cables with ease. After plugging in the routers, (and with IT genius help from Davin), I have brought the internet to the entire Lionfish Hotel campus. So, future Lionfish guests, when you are streaming your favorite yacht rock YouTube mix on the patio, remember today's lesson: when you try jamming something in unsuccessfully for an hour, sometimes a little sucking will make the job way easier...HAY-O!!
So, on to the shipwrecks. Yes, plural.
 |
| Former Site of Shipwreck |
Turns out, what I had cleared up was a shipwreck from a boat that sunk in the harbor during a hurricane many years ago. When the ship sank, pieces of the boat washed up on the shore of our property. I, of course, knowing this was indeed a shipwreck, went back for the obvious- buried treasure. In researching buried treasure in Turks and Caicos (what can I say, after the sun sets I have a lot of down time), I discovered that TCI has a rich pirate history. In fact, the Turks and Caicos Islands were front and center during the "Golden Age of Piracy," from 1650 to 1730. Such notable pirates as Anne Bonne, Calico Jack Rakham, Stede Bonnet the Gentleman Pirate, and Blackbeard, were said to have traveled and camped on the islands. The original name of Parrot Cay (one of the smaller islands), was actually Pirate Cay.
Germane to my inquiry, however, was the story of Captain William Kidd. It is rumored that Captain Kidd's buried treasure is in the Turks and Caicos Islands. That's right, the treasure that inspired Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Island" may be lurking right under my feet! In fact, in 1976 they conducted an excavation of a cave on Providenciales looking for Kidd's treasure. They were unsuccessful, which means the treasure is waiting for me.
I scoured the area pretty well, but sadly, uncovered no pirate booty. I will, however, keep my eyes out for a metal detector, or any shiny things sticking out of the beach at the end of the canal.
Strangely, it was not the only shipwreck that crossed my path this week.
On Saturday night, a fishing boat burned and partially sunk in the harbor. Sleeping the sleep of the just, Amy and I slept right through it. The ship belonged to a local with the nickname of "Rambo." The funny thing is Rambo is nowhere to be found, and is still at large. The scuttlebutt is that Rambo left the island a while back, never to return. In any event, it took the local salvage crane two days to pull Rambo's boat from the harbor. If and when Rambo returns, he owes a healthy salvage bill and multiple fines arising from the sinking.
Well, Amy just returned from her painting class.
(That's right, while I dutifully chronicle the history of the Lionfish, Amy drinks wine and hangs out with her girls.) I will continue to hunt for Captain Kidd's treasure, and if this blog suddenly stops, means I am fleeing the country with undeclared doubloons.
Next Up: New Friends.
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