Rivers rum

Old school

This water wheel is not located in Asheville. We're headed down south again – to a rum distillery – for today's post. So put on your Speedos and your drinking hats, here we go!

As soon as we arrived, I fell in love with the River Antoine Rum Distillery. The little outside plaza feels almost European, with a two-story brick house covered in flowers thrown in for good measure.

Located on the northeast coast of Grenada, the distillery pumps out some serious rum. Like, seriously. There are two flavors: 69 percent and 75 percent.

The good folks at Rivers make the 69 percent for people who want to bring some rum home with them. It seems you can light the 75 percent on fire, so it's not allowed on airplanes.

"Rivers" as it's known locally, hasn't changed its process since 1785, when the waterwheel was built. The wheel turns a thing, which turns another thing that turns yet another thing, ultimately crushing sugar cane, the main ingredient for the rum. As far as I could tell, it's all about water and then things turning.

Rivers uses the sugar cane husks as fuel for the fire, so nothing is wasted. Except for the people drinking the rum.

Here we see how the water wheel makes the little thing turn the big thing, which crushes the sugar cane. Rivers crushes the sugar cane twice, to make it magically delicious. ...Which it kind of isn't.

Let's just say you either love it or you don't.

They leave the sweet juice to ferment for a while in large tanks and then something happens with a giant fire that's always cooking. At this point in the tour, I had become focused on the main goal of the trip: Tasting Rivers rum. So I wasn't really listening that much anymore.

Unfortunately, I tasted the 75 percent first, so I couldn't taste the 69 percent. Holy rum! My mouth and chest were burning for the entire 20-minute drive home.

As usual, Barb and I fell in love with the place. We bought three bottles of the 69 percent rum. Our plan was to drink one and then bring the other two home. One for us and one for my parents, who were lovely enough to be staying at our house and taking care of our unlicensed petting zoo while we were drinking rum.

Apparently, we had a good time drinking the first bottle of Rivers, though Barb could smell when I opened it in another room. So we decided we were not bringing any home. We gave one bottle to our newest friends Chris and Jim. What happened to the third bottle is any one's guess.

Sometimes, you have no idea. That's Rivers, baby. It's rumtacular.

Yes, it snows in Asheville

Peanut trying to go sledding

It isn't much, but it is snow. Or, as I like to call it, really cold water.

Speaking of which...

More really cold water

Found him!

And he's watching us

...from a distance

Next up: Elvis and then Morrison.

The boat builder

Boat builder, boat builder
Build me a boat...

For more than a year, I've kept this blog focused on Asheville. But now in its second year, I feel like it's time to branch out into my other favorite places in the world. I can't help it.

Should I start another blog? Or – dare I say it – is it time to join the Tweeterverse?

Christ on a cross. Another existential crisis has begun!

True Caribbean
The impetus for my latest psychological distress is the trip Barb and I just took to Grenada. Holy shit. This was the best trip we've taken in a long, long time.

The problem is that Grenada passed the test: I can definitely live there. I think Barb might be able to as well. And the people are so great, they actually bump Thais and Balinese to second and third nicest people in the world.

So I have to write about it, right?

My first Grenada post is about the boat builder in Darvey Bay, on the north coast of Grenada. The boat builder skips to the front of the line because my newest best friend Chris requested a boat builder blog post ASAP. I think my other newest best friend Jim would have agreed, but he was still over on Bathway Beach drinking rum. Or at a party somewhere.

Fun fact: Chris and Jim are by far my favorite drinking friends. Ever. They're also in their mid-70s. Go for your life, mates!

Back to the boat builder. He's a very nice man who – wait for it – builds unbelievable boats. Which is a good thing. After all, it would be pretty weird if you're called the boat builder and you actually build lousy banjos.

I used to take notes when I traveled, but it made people really nervous. So I stopped. Therefore, I couldn't remember the boat builder's name. Chris has visited with the boat builder a few times and had drinks with him, so I asked what his name is.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Chris said, thinking about it. "Yeah..."

"Let's just call him the boat builder," he finally said.

The boat featured here is 28-feet long. It's made out of pine and cedar. The boat builder bends the wood with clamps and sheer strength.

Barb the boat inspector

The really interesting thing is how the boat builder actually builds his boats. Or how he kind of doesn't build them. The young guy on the left in the picture above – who actually looks like he's the one doing all the work – is a fisherman who commissioned the boat. While working on his projects, the boat builder has the owners work with him on the boats so they become extremely familiar with them. 

As someone who grew up on boats, that's a great idea. Because shit always goes wrong on boats. Always.

And when you're a few miles out in the ocean and a storm is whipping up, that's not the best place to think to yourself, "Hey, I wonder how this whole boat thing works?"

That's it for today, my friends. But don't worry, FYA will be talking about Grenada more in the future. Probably a lot.

Because that place really floats my boat.