From Blossoms
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the joy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.
From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
Li-Young Lee
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
The Tobago Cays
Wow! I’d heard for years that the Tobago Cays were special, and the photos I’d seen seemed to back that up, but gee whiz these little cays and the surrounding waters are beautiful. Just a handful of dinky little islands, surrounded by that crystal clear and shallow green water advertising companies like so much, a few perfect little white sand beaches, reefs teaming with fish and breaking the swell, so the anchorages are pretty calm…hard to ask for much more!
Okay, there are a lot of other boats here, but these days there are a lot of boats almost everywhere. I’m sure it was more pristine 30 years ago, but that was then, this is now. We’ve not been to a prettier spot anywhere in the Caribbean. As we jumped in the water off the boat, Emmy popped right back up and pointed to an Eagle Ray swimming under the boat. We took dinghy over to one of the little islets, beached the dinghy on a neat little cove, and hiked up to the top to catch a great view and take some pix. Hiking along the trail Emmy had a “Close Encounter” with a large Iguana, and I had to fearlessly drive him off by throwing pebbles at him…just like Iguana Jones!
Then we snorkeled along one of the large reefs, and saw lots of tropical fish, coral, sea fans and quite a few turtles. Emmy also spotted more “Flamingo Tongues,” a kind of mollusk, than she’d ever seen before. The whole area has been declared a National Park of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, so with a little luck they’ll be able to keep things in good shape.
There are no restaurants in the area, but licensed “Boat Boys” come by in the morning selling fresh French bread and ice, later in the day offering fresh fish and still wiggling lobsters. I don’t think words are the right way to communicate the essence of this place, so will let the pictures do the talking.
This marks the southern terminus of our trip, as we need to turn north now and start making our way home, but we’d love to return here in the future and spend some more time exploring the nooks and crannies in the Tobago Cays and the rest of the Grenadines. I think you could easily spend a couple months in this area without getting bored. We also didn’t make it to Grenada, so maybe we’ll add it to the list for next time too. For now it’s back to Bequia for a couple of days. The saga continues…
Okay, there are a lot of other boats here, but these days there are a lot of boats almost everywhere. I’m sure it was more pristine 30 years ago, but that was then, this is now. We’ve not been to a prettier spot anywhere in the Caribbean. As we jumped in the water off the boat, Emmy popped right back up and pointed to an Eagle Ray swimming under the boat. We took dinghy over to one of the little islets, beached the dinghy on a neat little cove, and hiked up to the top to catch a great view and take some pix. Hiking along the trail Emmy had a “Close Encounter” with a large Iguana, and I had to fearlessly drive him off by throwing pebbles at him…just like Iguana Jones!
Then we snorkeled along one of the large reefs, and saw lots of tropical fish, coral, sea fans and quite a few turtles. Emmy also spotted more “Flamingo Tongues,” a kind of mollusk, than she’d ever seen before. The whole area has been declared a National Park of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, so with a little luck they’ll be able to keep things in good shape.
There are no restaurants in the area, but licensed “Boat Boys” come by in the morning selling fresh French bread and ice, later in the day offering fresh fish and still wiggling lobsters. I don’t think words are the right way to communicate the essence of this place, so will let the pictures do the talking.
This marks the southern terminus of our trip, as we need to turn north now and start making our way home, but we’d love to return here in the future and spend some more time exploring the nooks and crannies in the Tobago Cays and the rest of the Grenadines. I think you could easily spend a couple months in this area without getting bored. We also didn’t make it to Grenada, so maybe we’ll add it to the list for next time too. For now it’s back to Bequia for a couple of days. The saga continues…
Canouan
Canouan (Pronounced Can-Oh-Wan) Sometimes it’s hard to get much of a feel for a place by reading the cruising guide…take Canouan for instance. After the terribly rolly night at Mustique, we were really just looking for a calm anchorage so we could get some sleep. Canouan was only 11 miles away, on the way to the Tobago Cays, and on the chart it looked like we might be able to tuck into the north east corner of the harbor and get out of the swells, so we decided to give it a shot.
As we turned into the half moon shaped harbor we pulled the sails down and motored in to the clear, pale green shallows, finding a decent looking mooring and tied up to it…no rocking and rolling - YES! Unfortunately, five minutes after we sat down, a guy in a small boat came up and told us we couldn’t use that mooring, as it belonged to a charter boat company….grrrr. But he just happened to have a mooring available that was in an even better spot, so we moved, and it really was better. J A blessedly calm night resulted in a great night’s sleep. J J
When we went ashore the next day we weren’t quite sure what to expect. We tied up to a hotel dock and walked up to the first person we saw and asked where we could take our garbage (a favorite cruiser question, which is often met with a wrinkled nose, a few grumpy words and either complete rejection or an extended arm pointing to a dumpster location). This morning however, Sam smiled and lead us to the side of the hotel where their trash bins were, and gave us some more info on ice, internet and stores, and bid us good day. That’ll work!
The island is pretty small, like all the Grenadines, and not exactly what you’d describe as “upscale” - at the other end of the spectrum from Mustique. With around a thousand full time residents, mostly engaged in fishing and farming, it’s what I suppose you could call mostly working class, with lots of little homes scattered across the hillsides, some with absolutely incredible views. Unfortunately the awesome views are often framed by loose trash scattered around, but the people are friendly, and we walked all over the island.
At the top of one hill we were able to look south across a few miles of blue Caribbean water to the Tobago Cays, our planned southern terminus and what for me had become something of the Holy Grail, or The Promised Land. I thought of Martin Luther King’s speech about being able to see the Promised Land, but maybe not being able to reach it himself. As we gazed across I felt energized though, and felt sure we really would get there in a couple of days. Say Amen!
We took a funny little goat path back towards what passes for “town,” and stepped into a little store to see what they had. Emmy asked the lady at the register where we might get some good local food. She picked up the phone and called “Tante Joy” to see if she had any fish today. She did, and the lady took us outside to point out directions to the restaurant (which had no sign of any kind). We thanked her and headed up the road, turning at the fork and looking for the lady who had been told to, “Look out for the interracial couple coming up your way.”
There she was, standing on an open porch of what looked like a regular little house, but the covered front porch had a long table, at which four men were eating lunch. We introduced ourselves, sat down at the table and ordered…the men were obviously local working guys, and had been talking up a storm as we walked up, but were now silent, sort of sizing us up out of the corners of their eyes. After a minute or two conversation started up again slowly and then built, with topics flipping between construction, development, government corruption, and the global economic crisis. We joined in, and had fun comparing notes on our respective islands between mouthfuls of fried barracuda, rice, lentils and sweet potato washed down with ice cold Hairoun beer (St. Vincent‘s brew).
Later that afternoon we went exploring in the dinghy, and visited a couple really pretty beaches. We remembered seeing a tiny little cove with a sandy beach as we were nearing the anchorage when we first arrived, so thought we’d take a look. When we got there it turned out to be waaay nicer than we expected, and thought we’d have this great little spot all to ourselves, but….just as were beaching the dinghy a large (100’) motor yacht pulled up and anchored nearby. Oh well, we got here first! It was great nonetheless, with perfect water and sand, and some cool rock formations we didn‘t mind sharing.
That night was nice and calm too, but I got up to get a drink of water, and saw another bat in the boat! Yikes! I watched him flit right out, and woke Emmy by accident, and we laughed about having bats in the boat. Never had that happen before! The next morning we found what looked like evidence of Mr. Bat munching on a ripe banana we had sitting on the table.
So after a couple days of lollygagging around Canouan, we decided the weather was good for our push over to the Tobago Cays. It was only about 7 miles, so we didn’t need to get an early start. In fact it’s really best to arrive their around midday, so you can clearly see the reefs that surround the Cays, and we planned to head out around 11AM. We went through our normal procedure of stowing things well, as you never know what’s going to happen, and it’s better to be prepared.
We attached the 15 hp outboard motor to the pulley system we use to pull it up from the dinghy and secure it to the stern rail, and started hauling away. We’ve developed our own little system, where Emmy pulls the line and I “steer” the engine to the mounting bracket on the rail, and we had it about 5 inches from the bracket when the nylon strapping around the outboard somehow slipped through a D-ring that’s used to secure it. Sooo…it crashed down onto the pad (smashing my thumb a bit), then bounced off the transom of the boat (gouging a nickel sized hole in the gel coat), and splashed into the water! L
We both watched in shock as the engine sank to the bottom surprisingly slowly, due to air being trapped in the cover, trailing air bubbles and oil. We spent about a minute wondering out loud exactly what had happened, then I raced below to look at the manual. I knew two-stroke motors could be flushed out and got running again, but ours is a four stroke, and I wasn’t 100% sure what the procedure was. The manual said, “If the motor is submerged, have it serviced immediately.” Um, that could be tough.
First step was to get it off the bottom, so we rigged up a line to a cleat, I put on my mask and snorkel, and jumped in. The water was thankfully only about 12 feet deep, and quite clear (you could see the motor sitting on the bottom right from the boat), so I swam down to the motor and attached the line. As I was preparing to surface, I noticed that a big rock just a few feet away had several pair of waving lobster antenna sticking out from under it…not now guys!
We heaved the motor up and onto the bracket on the stern rail as oily salt water gushed out everywhere. We took the cover off and used the cockpit shower to rinse everything in fresh water,. Luckily we had cell service, and we called the folks in St. Croix I had purchased the engine from a couple of years ago. They were super helpful, and after a couple of minutes discussion it was time to dig in and try to rescue the darn thing. First came an oil change, and afterwards I drained salt water from the carburetor. When I took the spark plugs out salt water poured out of the lower cylinder, which didn’t do much for my spirits. I sprayed a bunch of T-9 lubricant in the plug holes, cleaned and dried the plugs and put them back in, then sprayed more T-9 all over the engine, especially in and around all the electrical parts and contacts. The mechanic in St. Croix said it was most important to get all the above done and get the engine started as soon as possible, and that I should expect it to be hard to start (yeah, no kidding!).
So fresh gas was squeezed into the engine, and a big pull on the starter cord! Nothing. Fifteen times and nothing. And then a little cough. And then a little more. And then it started! Of course you can’t run the engine long at all without it being in the water, so we had to put it back on the dinghy, using the same sling that had just failed! With a little extra webbing tied on we very carefully lowered the engine down and secured it. Rather amazingly I thought, the engine started right back up, and we let it run about 15 minutes or so, as directed.
I decided to see how it ran in gear, so went off on a test run, and it seemed okay. I’ll spare you the rest of the minutia, but as I write this it’s been a couple of weeks now, the engine is running fine, and usually starts on the first pull! Who’d a thought?
As “that day” ended, a local fisherman came up and offered us one of the most beautiful big Red Hind fish I’ve ever seen, and we gladly agreed. Emmy made some great soup with the head, and we fried the fish - it was great, and helped us recover from the shock of the entire dunking fiasco. The next day we went through the same exercise raising the outboard (well, maybe just a little more careful?), and we got on our way to the Tobago Cays a day later than expected. Whew.
As we turned into the half moon shaped harbor we pulled the sails down and motored in to the clear, pale green shallows, finding a decent looking mooring and tied up to it…no rocking and rolling - YES! Unfortunately, five minutes after we sat down, a guy in a small boat came up and told us we couldn’t use that mooring, as it belonged to a charter boat company….grrrr. But he just happened to have a mooring available that was in an even better spot, so we moved, and it really was better. J A blessedly calm night resulted in a great night’s sleep. J J
When we went ashore the next day we weren’t quite sure what to expect. We tied up to a hotel dock and walked up to the first person we saw and asked where we could take our garbage (a favorite cruiser question, which is often met with a wrinkled nose, a few grumpy words and either complete rejection or an extended arm pointing to a dumpster location). This morning however, Sam smiled and lead us to the side of the hotel where their trash bins were, and gave us some more info on ice, internet and stores, and bid us good day. That’ll work!
The island is pretty small, like all the Grenadines, and not exactly what you’d describe as “upscale” - at the other end of the spectrum from Mustique. With around a thousand full time residents, mostly engaged in fishing and farming, it’s what I suppose you could call mostly working class, with lots of little homes scattered across the hillsides, some with absolutely incredible views. Unfortunately the awesome views are often framed by loose trash scattered around, but the people are friendly, and we walked all over the island.
At the top of one hill we were able to look south across a few miles of blue Caribbean water to the Tobago Cays, our planned southern terminus and what for me had become something of the Holy Grail, or The Promised Land. I thought of Martin Luther King’s speech about being able to see the Promised Land, but maybe not being able to reach it himself. As we gazed across I felt energized though, and felt sure we really would get there in a couple of days. Say Amen!
We took a funny little goat path back towards what passes for “town,” and stepped into a little store to see what they had. Emmy asked the lady at the register where we might get some good local food. She picked up the phone and called “Tante Joy” to see if she had any fish today. She did, and the lady took us outside to point out directions to the restaurant (which had no sign of any kind). We thanked her and headed up the road, turning at the fork and looking for the lady who had been told to, “Look out for the interracial couple coming up your way.”
There she was, standing on an open porch of what looked like a regular little house, but the covered front porch had a long table, at which four men were eating lunch. We introduced ourselves, sat down at the table and ordered…the men were obviously local working guys, and had been talking up a storm as we walked up, but were now silent, sort of sizing us up out of the corners of their eyes. After a minute or two conversation started up again slowly and then built, with topics flipping between construction, development, government corruption, and the global economic crisis. We joined in, and had fun comparing notes on our respective islands between mouthfuls of fried barracuda, rice, lentils and sweet potato washed down with ice cold Hairoun beer (St. Vincent‘s brew).
Later that afternoon we went exploring in the dinghy, and visited a couple really pretty beaches. We remembered seeing a tiny little cove with a sandy beach as we were nearing the anchorage when we first arrived, so thought we’d take a look. When we got there it turned out to be waaay nicer than we expected, and thought we’d have this great little spot all to ourselves, but….just as were beaching the dinghy a large (100’) motor yacht pulled up and anchored nearby. Oh well, we got here first! It was great nonetheless, with perfect water and sand, and some cool rock formations we didn‘t mind sharing.
That night was nice and calm too, but I got up to get a drink of water, and saw another bat in the boat! Yikes! I watched him flit right out, and woke Emmy by accident, and we laughed about having bats in the boat. Never had that happen before! The next morning we found what looked like evidence of Mr. Bat munching on a ripe banana we had sitting on the table.
So after a couple days of lollygagging around Canouan, we decided the weather was good for our push over to the Tobago Cays. It was only about 7 miles, so we didn’t need to get an early start. In fact it’s really best to arrive their around midday, so you can clearly see the reefs that surround the Cays, and we planned to head out around 11AM. We went through our normal procedure of stowing things well, as you never know what’s going to happen, and it’s better to be prepared.
We attached the 15 hp outboard motor to the pulley system we use to pull it up from the dinghy and secure it to the stern rail, and started hauling away. We’ve developed our own little system, where Emmy pulls the line and I “steer” the engine to the mounting bracket on the rail, and we had it about 5 inches from the bracket when the nylon strapping around the outboard somehow slipped through a D-ring that’s used to secure it. Sooo…it crashed down onto the pad (smashing my thumb a bit), then bounced off the transom of the boat (gouging a nickel sized hole in the gel coat), and splashed into the water! L
We both watched in shock as the engine sank to the bottom surprisingly slowly, due to air being trapped in the cover, trailing air bubbles and oil. We spent about a minute wondering out loud exactly what had happened, then I raced below to look at the manual. I knew two-stroke motors could be flushed out and got running again, but ours is a four stroke, and I wasn’t 100% sure what the procedure was. The manual said, “If the motor is submerged, have it serviced immediately.” Um, that could be tough.
First step was to get it off the bottom, so we rigged up a line to a cleat, I put on my mask and snorkel, and jumped in. The water was thankfully only about 12 feet deep, and quite clear (you could see the motor sitting on the bottom right from the boat), so I swam down to the motor and attached the line. As I was preparing to surface, I noticed that a big rock just a few feet away had several pair of waving lobster antenna sticking out from under it…not now guys!
We heaved the motor up and onto the bracket on the stern rail as oily salt water gushed out everywhere. We took the cover off and used the cockpit shower to rinse everything in fresh water,. Luckily we had cell service, and we called the folks in St. Croix I had purchased the engine from a couple of years ago. They were super helpful, and after a couple of minutes discussion it was time to dig in and try to rescue the darn thing. First came an oil change, and afterwards I drained salt water from the carburetor. When I took the spark plugs out salt water poured out of the lower cylinder, which didn’t do much for my spirits. I sprayed a bunch of T-9 lubricant in the plug holes, cleaned and dried the plugs and put them back in, then sprayed more T-9 all over the engine, especially in and around all the electrical parts and contacts. The mechanic in St. Croix said it was most important to get all the above done and get the engine started as soon as possible, and that I should expect it to be hard to start (yeah, no kidding!).
So fresh gas was squeezed into the engine, and a big pull on the starter cord! Nothing. Fifteen times and nothing. And then a little cough. And then a little more. And then it started! Of course you can’t run the engine long at all without it being in the water, so we had to put it back on the dinghy, using the same sling that had just failed! With a little extra webbing tied on we very carefully lowered the engine down and secured it. Rather amazingly I thought, the engine started right back up, and we let it run about 15 minutes or so, as directed.
I decided to see how it ran in gear, so went off on a test run, and it seemed okay. I’ll spare you the rest of the minutia, but as I write this it’s been a couple of weeks now, the engine is running fine, and usually starts on the first pull! Who’d a thought?
As “that day” ended, a local fisherman came up and offered us one of the most beautiful big Red Hind fish I’ve ever seen, and we gladly agreed. Emmy made some great soup with the head, and we fried the fish - it was great, and helped us recover from the shock of the entire dunking fiasco. The next day we went through the same exercise raising the outboard (well, maybe just a little more careful?), and we got on our way to the Tobago Cays a day later than expected. Whew.
Mustique
Mustique(Pronounced Moose-teak ) Mustique is one of those places that qualifies for an entire episode of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous,” with a long list of celebrity homeowners and guests. Princess Margaret, Mick Jagger, and David Bowie among others have all owned homes here over the years, and as you near the island it’s obviously a whole different cup of tea than Bequia, only 12 miles away. Large, rich looking homes and grounds dot the hillsides and knolls, and there’s little evidence of local population.
Unlike Bequia, Mustique does not have a great natural harbor, although there’s a bit of an indentation on the lee side of the island that provides a little protection in prevailing winds. We saw “Brass Tacks” tied up to a mooring as we pulled into the anchorage, and Bob dinghied over to help us grab a mooring too, as there were no pendants on the mooring balls, which made no sense? Oh well! There was a little swell running, causing the boat to roll a little, but it didn’t seem too bad.
There’s a ton of history that goes along with Mustique (I guess every island has its share), as an eccentric British Lord bought the island in the 1950’s and turned it into a playground for his friends. Much of the island has changed hands over the years, but it’s obvious that it continues to be a pretty exclusive spot. We went ashore for a nice dinner at “Basil’s Bar & Restaurant,” supposedly a legendary spot, but didn’t spot any of the glitterati.
Rather than beat around the bush in my description of that night, let me be succinct…it was hell! The swells picked up throughout the night, and Avalon was rolling from way over on one side all the way back over to the other side, and then again, and then again. It didn’t matter if we were on our back, side, or stomach, our bodies rolled to and fro, and everything that wasn’t nailed down in cupboards, lockers, and on deck clunked, thunked and squeaked. If the government hadn’t closed Guantanamo I think they might have been able to use this technique to torture prisoners!
And, for the icing on the cake, around 4AM I was awake (surprise) and turned on a flashlight to check what time it was (please let it be morning!), when I saw an odd flicker at the other end of the main cabin. I looked again, thinking it must’ve been just a shadow from the flashlight, when there it was gain…oh no…I know what that jerky motion is…Oh - my - God…THERES A BAT IN THE BOAT! I’m not all that squeamish generally, but I’ve never particularly enjoyed the companionship of bats (didn’t even care for the Vampire books or movies), and here’s one in the boat, in the middle of the night, bouncing around the cabin with that creepy, Halloween-like motion.
It was everything I could manage to keep from screaming out loud, and I didn’t want to wake Emmy if she had finally been able to get to sleep, so I grabbed a t-shirt and waved it around at one end of the boat, hoping Mr. Bat would get the message that he was unwelcome. Seemed to work, as after a minute or so he swooped out the companionway and was gone. It took awhile for my heart to slow down a little, then I sat down at the chart table and turned on the laptop to call for a weather forecast…I wanted to get the heck away from Mustique…David Bowie and Mick Jagger cane have the darn place! In all fairness, I’m sure it’s a great place for folks living in the fast lane to unwind in a beautiful villa, and in settled weather (without swells) I’d consider trying again, but not today! By the time the sun rose it was “Buh-bye Mustique!”
Unlike Bequia, Mustique does not have a great natural harbor, although there’s a bit of an indentation on the lee side of the island that provides a little protection in prevailing winds. We saw “Brass Tacks” tied up to a mooring as we pulled into the anchorage, and Bob dinghied over to help us grab a mooring too, as there were no pendants on the mooring balls, which made no sense? Oh well! There was a little swell running, causing the boat to roll a little, but it didn’t seem too bad.
There’s a ton of history that goes along with Mustique (I guess every island has its share), as an eccentric British Lord bought the island in the 1950’s and turned it into a playground for his friends. Much of the island has changed hands over the years, but it’s obvious that it continues to be a pretty exclusive spot. We went ashore for a nice dinner at “Basil’s Bar & Restaurant,” supposedly a legendary spot, but didn’t spot any of the glitterati.
Rather than beat around the bush in my description of that night, let me be succinct…it was hell! The swells picked up throughout the night, and Avalon was rolling from way over on one side all the way back over to the other side, and then again, and then again. It didn’t matter if we were on our back, side, or stomach, our bodies rolled to and fro, and everything that wasn’t nailed down in cupboards, lockers, and on deck clunked, thunked and squeaked. If the government hadn’t closed Guantanamo I think they might have been able to use this technique to torture prisoners!
And, for the icing on the cake, around 4AM I was awake (surprise) and turned on a flashlight to check what time it was (please let it be morning!), when I saw an odd flicker at the other end of the main cabin. I looked again, thinking it must’ve been just a shadow from the flashlight, when there it was gain…oh no…I know what that jerky motion is…Oh - my - God…THERES A BAT IN THE BOAT! I’m not all that squeamish generally, but I’ve never particularly enjoyed the companionship of bats (didn’t even care for the Vampire books or movies), and here’s one in the boat, in the middle of the night, bouncing around the cabin with that creepy, Halloween-like motion.
It was everything I could manage to keep from screaming out loud, and I didn’t want to wake Emmy if she had finally been able to get to sleep, so I grabbed a t-shirt and waved it around at one end of the boat, hoping Mr. Bat would get the message that he was unwelcome. Seemed to work, as after a minute or so he swooped out the companionway and was gone. It took awhile for my heart to slow down a little, then I sat down at the chart table and turned on the laptop to call for a weather forecast…I wanted to get the heck away from Mustique…David Bowie and Mick Jagger cane have the darn place! In all fairness, I’m sure it’s a great place for folks living in the fast lane to unwind in a beautiful villa, and in settled weather (without swells) I’d consider trying again, but not today! By the time the sun rose it was “Buh-bye Mustique!”
On to Mustique (or not).
We felt just a little blue about departing Bequia, because it clicked with us both, but we had to get going sometime, so we packed up, started the engine, let go the mooring line, and got on our way to Mustique…but…wait…the engine water temp gauge is reading hot? And now I hear the telltale sound of coolant boiling over in the expansion tank?! Yikes, Emmy, grab another mooring! What a way to start the day…
Okay, change of plans, we’ll stay in Bequia at least another day to resolve this issue, but we have to let the engine cool down some before fiddling with it…hmmm…what to do while we wait? I have it! Let’s swim ashore and have a beer (or two) at the Frangipani, a ridiculously cute, gingerbread decorated beachfront Inn/restaurant/bar, which is only about 50 yards from our new mooring! Gee, this does sound like a vacation, huh?
We swam back a couple hours later, not too worse for wear, and I began the step by step troubleshooting process, eventually deciding to pull the salt water pump apart and check the impeller before wading into more complex things like removing the heat exchanger for inspection and testing. The impeller didn’t really look all that bad, just a couple vanes were bent a little bit, which didn’t seem like that big a deal…but I had a spare impeller and gasket, so what the heck, let’s swap ‘em out and see what happens. Put the new one in and refilled the system with coolant, started up the engine and closely watched the temp gauge and expansion tank for any indications of overheating, but it stayed cool. Put the transmission in reverse and increased revs a little, to put a load on the engine, and see if that made a difference, but it continued to run cool. And the people were happy!
One tongue-in-cheek definition of cruising is “the opportunity to work on/fix/repair boats in exotic locations.” I suppose we’ve had our share of repair and maintenance issues over the past few months, but luckily so far we’ve had the right spare parts and/or been able to fairly quickly figure out and fix any problems as they‘ve presented themselves, so it really hasn’t felt like much of a burden. (Before we had a chance to post this we had another interesting opportunity to test our repair & maintenance skills, but that will go into the Canouan entry!)
Soooo….was it a bad impeller? Or maybe a floating plastic bag or something had blocked the water intake? Or perhaps a piece of some kind of gunk had temporarily clogged the heat exchanger, and subsequently flushed itself out? Or maybe some other goofy thing I haven‘t even thought of? All I know for sure is that it’s working again, so we can get back on the blue highway and head for Mustique - onward!
Okay, change of plans, we’ll stay in Bequia at least another day to resolve this issue, but we have to let the engine cool down some before fiddling with it…hmmm…what to do while we wait? I have it! Let’s swim ashore and have a beer (or two) at the Frangipani, a ridiculously cute, gingerbread decorated beachfront Inn/restaurant/bar, which is only about 50 yards from our new mooring! Gee, this does sound like a vacation, huh?
We swam back a couple hours later, not too worse for wear, and I began the step by step troubleshooting process, eventually deciding to pull the salt water pump apart and check the impeller before wading into more complex things like removing the heat exchanger for inspection and testing. The impeller didn’t really look all that bad, just a couple vanes were bent a little bit, which didn’t seem like that big a deal…but I had a spare impeller and gasket, so what the heck, let’s swap ‘em out and see what happens. Put the new one in and refilled the system with coolant, started up the engine and closely watched the temp gauge and expansion tank for any indications of overheating, but it stayed cool. Put the transmission in reverse and increased revs a little, to put a load on the engine, and see if that made a difference, but it continued to run cool. And the people were happy!
One tongue-in-cheek definition of cruising is “the opportunity to work on/fix/repair boats in exotic locations.” I suppose we’ve had our share of repair and maintenance issues over the past few months, but luckily so far we’ve had the right spare parts and/or been able to fairly quickly figure out and fix any problems as they‘ve presented themselves, so it really hasn’t felt like much of a burden. (Before we had a chance to post this we had another interesting opportunity to test our repair & maintenance skills, but that will go into the Canouan entry!)
Soooo….was it a bad impeller? Or maybe a floating plastic bag or something had blocked the water intake? Or perhaps a piece of some kind of gunk had temporarily clogged the heat exchanger, and subsequently flushed itself out? Or maybe some other goofy thing I haven‘t even thought of? All I know for sure is that it’s working again, so we can get back on the blue highway and head for Mustique - onward!
Bequia, St. Vincent and the Grenadines
Bequia (Pronounced Beck-way) The passage from St. Lucia to the lee shore of St. Vincent was pretty easy (always appreciated), and we then coasted along the shoreline enjoying the view. St. Vincent has a pretty sketchy reputation among the cruising crowd, with quite a few incidents circulating of boat break-ins and thefts, so although very striking visually (much of “Pirates Of The Caribbean was filmed there), we decided to pass it by.
The seven mile hop between the southern tip of St. Vincent and Bequia was a little windy, but with the main reefed down and some jib rolled in we had pretty comfortable sailing and were still making over seven knots. Neither Emmy or I had ever been to Bequia, so as we barreled along towards the harbor we were checking the chart and piloting around rocks and shallows, mentally preparing to drop the sails and getting ready to anchor or grab a mooring, and snatching glimpses of the new scenery when we heard a sound like a cell phone ringing? It seemed to be coming from a small inflatable boat off our starboard bow, and the lone occupant was pointing a large plastic covered tube at us…??
As we looked closer we finally figured it out - the cruising guide mentioned that there’s a guy who takes digital photos of boats sailing into Bequia, and then offers them for sale. The cell phone sound was a whistle the guy blows to get you to look at the camera! You can see one of the pix the fellow took of us posted here - that’s what we look like when underway.
Bequia has a rich sailing and whaling history, as well as a reputation as a very laid back , off the beaten track kind of tropical island, and along with the Tobago Cays had served as sort of our destination for this winter’s cruise, so we were pretty excited to be finally getting here. Gliding over the clear water of the beautiful harbor amongst dozens of sailboats flying flags from the UK, France, Germany, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Switzerland, Italy, South Africa, along with a few US, it seemed we were part of a little nautical United Nations! We found a mooring with the help of a local “boat boy,” shut everything down and relaxed in the cockpit, enjoying the calm quiet, the view, and a cold rum drink. Ahhh…now that’s what I’m talking about!
The harbor offers pretty good protection, so we had a lovely, quiet night of sleep, very welcome after the crazy, rolly night at The Pitons in St. Lucia the night before. The next morning we went ashore to clear Customs, which was a snap. I spotted Emmy down the street, engrossed in conversation with an older gentleman. Mr. King, a Bequian of Scottish descent, drives a small safari taxi, and is full of interesting info and stories, so we agreed to go for a tour of the island.
After a Mexican-Bequian lunch we met back up with Mr. King and went off on our tour. First stop was a small battlement overlooking Port Elizabeth with a panoramic view of Admiralty Bay and the surrounding waters over towards St. Vincent, then we were off to the turtle nursery at the other end of the island.
Brother King, a relative of our driver, has taken on the monumental task of trying to save hawksbill and other sea turtles in his privately owned and operated facility on the south coast. In Bequia hunting and killing turtles for food is still legally and culturally acceptable, and in addition to working with the turtles themselves, Mr. King also teaches schoolchildren about endangered species and conservation of resources. Quite impressive, he even had a couple albino turtles!
Our tour continued by Spring Bay and then to Friendship Bay, another famous anchorage in Bequia, home to the last remaining whaling activity in the islands. The islanders are permitted to take two whales per year, using traditional sail powered whaleboats and hand thrown harpoons. They’ve been doing this for a couple of hundred years, from this same lovely white sand bay, with Mustique in the background. After bouncing around in the back of the truck for a few hours and lots of horn blowing later (Mr. King literally knows every soul on the island, and he can’t seem to resist giving a couple toots of the horn to each and every one) we arrived safely back in Admiralty Bay , and were ready for showers and a nap.
Bequia is the kind of island that grows on you…it just kind of gets under your skin. The weather was fine and it was easy to just hang around the boat, occasionally jumping into the clear, pale green harbor for a swim, and just enjoy the sights and sounds. We walked about the town, stepping into every open door , one of which was the Bequia Bookshop, where we found one of the most eclectic and extensive book selections in any of the islands we’ve visited. The manager, Cheryl Jones , once lived on St. Croix and worked at UVI! We visited the fresh produce market where we developed an interesting relationship with the Rasta vendors and the local jewelry maker, Chris, who has an incredible technique for painting calabashes.
On Sunday we decided to do what everybody here does, we went to the beach! We both needed our hair cut, so we packed the scissors and took a short dinghy ride to Princess Margaret Beach. We walked over to some rocky cave-like formations and set up shop. You won’t find a barbershop or hair salon with a better view - beautiful sailing yachts sliding by a few hundred yards away, with the water lapping at our feet while seagulls cried as they flew overhead.
We couldn’t quite manage a decent wifi connection to the internet from the boat, but no worries, there are a couple places ashore that have free access. We holed up a few times in a little open air, second floor French restaurant that overlooks the harbor (just about everything here does!). It was nice to be able to look out and see Avalon while we munched away and checked email.
We found almost everyone in Bequia to be pretty happy and relaxed, and it genuinely lived up to its “laid back” reputation. One day flowed into the next, and we realized that after nearly a week we should push on to a few more of the Grenadines before we turned around and started back to St. Croix. So, time to go Bequia…it’s been fun!
The seven mile hop between the southern tip of St. Vincent and Bequia was a little windy, but with the main reefed down and some jib rolled in we had pretty comfortable sailing and were still making over seven knots. Neither Emmy or I had ever been to Bequia, so as we barreled along towards the harbor we were checking the chart and piloting around rocks and shallows, mentally preparing to drop the sails and getting ready to anchor or grab a mooring, and snatching glimpses of the new scenery when we heard a sound like a cell phone ringing? It seemed to be coming from a small inflatable boat off our starboard bow, and the lone occupant was pointing a large plastic covered tube at us…??
As we looked closer we finally figured it out - the cruising guide mentioned that there’s a guy who takes digital photos of boats sailing into Bequia, and then offers them for sale. The cell phone sound was a whistle the guy blows to get you to look at the camera! You can see one of the pix the fellow took of us posted here - that’s what we look like when underway.
Bequia has a rich sailing and whaling history, as well as a reputation as a very laid back , off the beaten track kind of tropical island, and along with the Tobago Cays had served as sort of our destination for this winter’s cruise, so we were pretty excited to be finally getting here. Gliding over the clear water of the beautiful harbor amongst dozens of sailboats flying flags from the UK, France, Germany, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Switzerland, Italy, South Africa, along with a few US, it seemed we were part of a little nautical United Nations! We found a mooring with the help of a local “boat boy,” shut everything down and relaxed in the cockpit, enjoying the calm quiet, the view, and a cold rum drink. Ahhh…now that’s what I’m talking about!
The harbor offers pretty good protection, so we had a lovely, quiet night of sleep, very welcome after the crazy, rolly night at The Pitons in St. Lucia the night before. The next morning we went ashore to clear Customs, which was a snap. I spotted Emmy down the street, engrossed in conversation with an older gentleman. Mr. King, a Bequian of Scottish descent, drives a small safari taxi, and is full of interesting info and stories, so we agreed to go for a tour of the island.
After a Mexican-Bequian lunch we met back up with Mr. King and went off on our tour. First stop was a small battlement overlooking Port Elizabeth with a panoramic view of Admiralty Bay and the surrounding waters over towards St. Vincent, then we were off to the turtle nursery at the other end of the island.
Brother King, a relative of our driver, has taken on the monumental task of trying to save hawksbill and other sea turtles in his privately owned and operated facility on the south coast. In Bequia hunting and killing turtles for food is still legally and culturally acceptable, and in addition to working with the turtles themselves, Mr. King also teaches schoolchildren about endangered species and conservation of resources. Quite impressive, he even had a couple albino turtles!
Our tour continued by Spring Bay and then to Friendship Bay, another famous anchorage in Bequia, home to the last remaining whaling activity in the islands. The islanders are permitted to take two whales per year, using traditional sail powered whaleboats and hand thrown harpoons. They’ve been doing this for a couple of hundred years, from this same lovely white sand bay, with Mustique in the background. After bouncing around in the back of the truck for a few hours and lots of horn blowing later (Mr. King literally knows every soul on the island, and he can’t seem to resist giving a couple toots of the horn to each and every one) we arrived safely back in Admiralty Bay , and were ready for showers and a nap.
Bequia is the kind of island that grows on you…it just kind of gets under your skin. The weather was fine and it was easy to just hang around the boat, occasionally jumping into the clear, pale green harbor for a swim, and just enjoy the sights and sounds. We walked about the town, stepping into every open door , one of which was the Bequia Bookshop, where we found one of the most eclectic and extensive book selections in any of the islands we’ve visited. The manager, Cheryl Jones , once lived on St. Croix and worked at UVI! We visited the fresh produce market where we developed an interesting relationship with the Rasta vendors and the local jewelry maker, Chris, who has an incredible technique for painting calabashes.
On Sunday we decided to do what everybody here does, we went to the beach! We both needed our hair cut, so we packed the scissors and took a short dinghy ride to Princess Margaret Beach. We walked over to some rocky cave-like formations and set up shop. You won’t find a barbershop or hair salon with a better view - beautiful sailing yachts sliding by a few hundred yards away, with the water lapping at our feet while seagulls cried as they flew overhead.
We couldn’t quite manage a decent wifi connection to the internet from the boat, but no worries, there are a couple places ashore that have free access. We holed up a few times in a little open air, second floor French restaurant that overlooks the harbor (just about everything here does!). It was nice to be able to look out and see Avalon while we munched away and checked email.
We found almost everyone in Bequia to be pretty happy and relaxed, and it genuinely lived up to its “laid back” reputation. One day flowed into the next, and we realized that after nearly a week we should push on to a few more of the Grenadines before we turned around and started back to St. Croix. So, time to go Bequia…it’s been fun!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Lunch Time in Deshaise, Guadalupe
Think these "kids" were hungry? They would not give mom a break she kept pushing them away but as any hungry kid they persevered. After a while she just stood there and let them feed to their little hearts or rather tummis content.
Olde Timers
This was a classic moment in true French style the beret, the jelly shoes and companionable silence. Late afternoon in Ilse de Saintes.Thursday, March 19, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sailing into Bequia
As we were sailing into Bequia we heard a whistle that sounded like a cell phone ringing it wasn't. It was Kenmore, the island's intrepid photographer, cruising along in an inflatable dinghy with a huge telephoto lens wrapped in a plastic bag taking our picture!
So...this is what we look like when we are under sail.
So...this is what we look like when we are under sail.
Chart of The Eastern Caribben
This chart was started while we were in Les Saintes, we have since traveled as far down as Bequia in The Grenadines. Today we head out to Mustique and then on to The Tobago Cays. This should give you a general idea of where we have been and where we are. 
St. Lucia
After the exciting passage from Martinique to St. Lucia we didn’t have much time to rest, relax or fool around before Emmy needed to get to the airport for her trip back to St. Croix. Rodney Bay, where we anchored, is a wonderfully big and protected bay, with a large marina with restaurants, grocery stores, hardware & marine supplies, fuel, etc., situated inside an adjacent man-made harbor, so I’d be able to knock off a few items on the boat “to-do” list while Emmy was gone.
We did take a “mini-bus” into the capital, Castries, which was pretty busy due to three cruise ships being in port, and walked around for a few hours. A mini-bus is a small van that runs a specific route picking up anyone who flags it down, and we were charged less than two dollars each for the round trip, while an official taxi would have cost about twenty US dollars each - we enjoyed saving money, and got to interact with the local folks on the mini-bus.
The next day Emmy took off bright and early, and I tried prioritizing the list. It was long overdue to scrape off the burned out varnish on the teak toerail, a dirty, time consuming job. I spent a few days scraping and sanding, and I oiled the teak this time instead of varnishing - we’ll see how that holds up. Thank heaven for iPods! Also rigged up a new sling to haul our outboard up with, fixed a few other things, bought cruising flags for St. Lucia and St. Vincent, as well as cruising guides to Panama and Cuba (more on that later), did some grocery shopping, read a couple of short novels, and tried to stay out of trouble!
Our friends Bob & Susan from “Brass Tacks” stopped by - they’re cruising the same islands as we are this season (we first met up in Nevis) - and one evening we sampled some wonderful rum we bought in Martinique, Clemant 10 year old dark Rhum Agricole. The French take their alcoholic beverages very seriously, and I think this is the best I’ve found, and is my new favorite!
The week went by fairly quickly, but I was happy to see Emmy walk through the Immigration door at the airport!
The north swell came up pretty strong, so we sailed a few miles down to Marigot, a small, well protected harbor. The next day the forecast was for improving conditions, so we sailed down to “The Pitons” an amazing setting between two crazy mountainous cones jutting up from the sea, on St. Lucia’s southwestern shore. We picked up a mooring between the two peaks, as directed by one of the “boat boys,” who offered us a tour of the nearby volcano and hot springs.
We needed to go to Customs in the nearby town to check out anyway, so we packed up swim suits and towels and jumped into the fellow’s small boat, for a cool ride to the town of Soufriere. Customs was easy (yay!) and we took off by taxi to what’s billed as “the world’s only drive-in volcano.” It’s classed as “inactive,” but in the caldera there are a couple hundred acres of bare, steaming, smelly earth and rock, with many pools of bubbling muddy stuff.
The nearby hot spring was a treat, with a hot water waterfall cascading over huge boulders into soaking pools. We headed back to town and hopped back in the motorboat for the two mile ride back to our anchorage. It seemed like the swells were bigger than a few hours earlier, and the boat boy agreed that it was getting bigger. As we pulled up to Avalon she was rolling a bit, and as the evening wore on it got worse…much worse…oh well!
We were planning on shoving off early for Bequia anyway, so around 4:30 AM, with very little good rest, we rolled out and made preparations for the 53 mile passage. We were underway by 5:30, with a nearly full moon lighting our way.
See ya on the way back St. Lucia!
We did take a “mini-bus” into the capital, Castries, which was pretty busy due to three cruise ships being in port, and walked around for a few hours. A mini-bus is a small van that runs a specific route picking up anyone who flags it down, and we were charged less than two dollars each for the round trip, while an official taxi would have cost about twenty US dollars each - we enjoyed saving money, and got to interact with the local folks on the mini-bus.
The next day Emmy took off bright and early, and I tried prioritizing the list. It was long overdue to scrape off the burned out varnish on the teak toerail, a dirty, time consuming job. I spent a few days scraping and sanding, and I oiled the teak this time instead of varnishing - we’ll see how that holds up. Thank heaven for iPods! Also rigged up a new sling to haul our outboard up with, fixed a few other things, bought cruising flags for St. Lucia and St. Vincent, as well as cruising guides to Panama and Cuba (more on that later), did some grocery shopping, read a couple of short novels, and tried to stay out of trouble!
Our friends Bob & Susan from “Brass Tacks” stopped by - they’re cruising the same islands as we are this season (we first met up in Nevis) - and one evening we sampled some wonderful rum we bought in Martinique, Clemant 10 year old dark Rhum Agricole. The French take their alcoholic beverages very seriously, and I think this is the best I’ve found, and is my new favorite!
The week went by fairly quickly, but I was happy to see Emmy walk through the Immigration door at the airport!
The north swell came up pretty strong, so we sailed a few miles down to Marigot, a small, well protected harbor. The next day the forecast was for improving conditions, so we sailed down to “The Pitons” an amazing setting between two crazy mountainous cones jutting up from the sea, on St. Lucia’s southwestern shore. We picked up a mooring between the two peaks, as directed by one of the “boat boys,” who offered us a tour of the nearby volcano and hot springs.
We needed to go to Customs in the nearby town to check out anyway, so we packed up swim suits and towels and jumped into the fellow’s small boat, for a cool ride to the town of Soufriere. Customs was easy (yay!) and we took off by taxi to what’s billed as “the world’s only drive-in volcano.” It’s classed as “inactive,” but in the caldera there are a couple hundred acres of bare, steaming, smelly earth and rock, with many pools of bubbling muddy stuff.
The nearby hot spring was a treat, with a hot water waterfall cascading over huge boulders into soaking pools. We headed back to town and hopped back in the motorboat for the two mile ride back to our anchorage. It seemed like the swells were bigger than a few hours earlier, and the boat boy agreed that it was getting bigger. As we pulled up to Avalon she was rolling a bit, and as the evening wore on it got worse…much worse…oh well!
We were planning on shoving off early for Bequia anyway, so around 4:30 AM, with very little good rest, we rolled out and made preparations for the 53 mile passage. We were underway by 5:30, with a nearly full moon lighting our way.
See ya on the way back St. Lucia!
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
March is here!
The Adventures of Avalon and crew continue.
This past month has been a very exciting one, we have visited several countries some of which I only dreamed of seeing others I didn't even know about like Les Saintes. We have experienced natures grace as we approached Dominica and paddled up the Indian River at dawn, the ravages of Mount Pelle when it erupted in Martinique practically wiping out the "Paris of the Caribbean" and Neptune's wrath as we crossed to St. Lucia.
This is a cultural awakening, as a Caribbean person everyday that I walk among the peoples of these countries, exchange thoughts (when language permits) and ideas, consume their produce, drink their beer or the traditional rum and listen to the beat of their music it hits me how similar yet different we are.
Every country we have visited has it's own rhythm and it's own smell, as we approached Dominica I could smell chocolate milk well, they have groves of cocoa trees! Martinique smelled like nutmeg. In St. Lucia "just now" could mean in the next minute or in two hours. But the one common denominator in all of these countries has been the great smiles we have received, a little slow at first but once we give one we receive many, the hospitality and helpfulness.
As I told my friend Ulla (I had to travel to St. Croix as our house sitter Valentina was to return to Rome and Ara my niece was flying in from Connecticut and settling in at Estancia Green Cay for the next month) after this unimaginable experience, I will never be the same.
This past month has been a very exciting one, we have visited several countries some of which I only dreamed of seeing others I didn't even know about like Les Saintes. We have experienced natures grace as we approached Dominica and paddled up the Indian River at dawn, the ravages of Mount Pelle when it erupted in Martinique practically wiping out the "Paris of the Caribbean" and Neptune's wrath as we crossed to St. Lucia.
This is a cultural awakening, as a Caribbean person everyday that I walk among the peoples of these countries, exchange thoughts (when language permits) and ideas, consume their produce, drink their beer or the traditional rum and listen to the beat of their music it hits me how similar yet different we are.
Every country we have visited has it's own rhythm and it's own smell, as we approached Dominica I could smell chocolate milk well, they have groves of cocoa trees! Martinique smelled like nutmeg. In St. Lucia "just now" could mean in the next minute or in two hours. But the one common denominator in all of these countries has been the great smiles we have received, a little slow at first but once we give one we receive many, the hospitality and helpfulness.
As I told my friend Ulla (I had to travel to St. Croix as our house sitter Valentina was to return to Rome and Ara my niece was flying in from Connecticut and settling in at Estancia Green Cay for the next month) after this unimaginable experience, I will never be the same.
What a blessing this has been.
And what a blessing to have the family and friends that we have back home! As I mentioned before I had to travel to St. Croix (leaving Brian in St. Lucia) to see about the house and cars and prepare for Ara's arrival. How do you get back into your previous life after being gone for two and half months?
It was so easy; sushi with Jill, Jerry, Chris, Justine and Valentina at Dashi the first night home. Going to see Evita, which was magnificent, with Janine, Ulla, Isabel, Jill and Justine at Caribbean Community Theater. Spending the weekend at home with my sisters Ana (who cooked a mean pot for us) and La Verne, my niece Margie, my nephew Sean and Ara. Being woken up early in the morning to the sounds of my brother Tony rambling in the yard calling me awake! And Ms. Verna coming by to check on me and hear all the tales.
Oh, and the phone calls! Being in the Caribbean and away from home makes telephone conversations prohibitively expensive so the phone didn't stop ringing. Got to talk to Jonathan for an hour (such a treat) and get all of his news about life in New York City, Norma and her stories of life in Mayaguez (she retired and moved), Ibia in Vieques and George in Miami. All of this and getting the house ready too.
Thank you guys for making my short trip home a fun and successful one. I love you all but, must go back to my honey down in St. Lucia!
Rocking and Rolling
Well, we knew the passage from Martinique was going to be one of our more challenging ones so far, given the weather forecast of 20-25 knots of wind and up to 10’ seas, so we had a couple backup/bailout plans in place, because you just never know when it’s going to be worse than the forecast, something might break on the boat, one of us gets hurt or something. So we snuck down to the southern tip of the island, saw a couple other boats going for it, and we decided to give it a go too. With a double reef in the mainsail and just a scrap of jib showing, and everything tied down and stowed securely, we felt pretty well prepared for what looked like a few wild hours crossing the 25 mile stretch to St. Lucia.
It didn’t take long for the full force of the wind and waves to cause us to look at each other with eyebrows raised with a sort of “Gee, it really is kind of rough out here, huh?” look. Emmy likes to start out steering, so I busied myself making sure that the sails were set right, checking navigation and double checking to make sure everything on the boat was ready for some bouncing around. The seas were kind of confused, with huge swells coming in from the east (largest I’ve seen since bringing Avalon down from Connecticut in 2005), mixed in with cross swells and wind chop coming from the northeast, which made the ride kind of squirrelly.
About halfway across we could see a squall approaching, the forecast had alerted us to the likelihood of 30+ knot winds accompanying occasional squalls, so we put our foul weather jackets on and I took over steering just as the rain started. Almost immediately the wind whipped up and blew the rain sideways, making each drop that hit any unprotected skin feel like a needle…owww! The biggest gusts hit just as another sailboat was nearing us going in the opposite direction, which made it even more interesting, because visibility was reduced to maybe a couple hundred yards. We slacked the sheets a little and ran off with the wind, keeping a sharp eye out for the other boat, which passed us nearby.
The squall passed over us after about ten minutes and we were feeling pretty good, as the wind backed down a little and the rain stopped. The seas had built a little bit steeper though, and as I was steering through a trough I could see the next one start to steepen and turn a lovely shade of bright pale blue along its top, and realized it was getting ready to break…right on top of... us! I yelled, “Hold on!” to Emmy, and it came down, drenching us and filling the cockpit with fifty or so gallons of sea water . We sputtered and looked at each other for a moment, then checked to make sure the cockpit drains were working - a minute later the water was gone, but we both looked like drowned rats. Yuck.
But there was no time to shower, sit and chat, or even really towel off, as we had our hands full with Avalon hurtling southbound like a late night freight train - exhilarating is as good a word as any I suppose, there’s an undeniable excitement that comes with piloting a sailboat in conditions like these, offset by the realization that there are many things that could go wrong, so your senses tune up to a higher state of awareness, and adrenalin kicks your body into high gear.
St. Lucia ahead was starting to look a lot larger than Martinique behind us, which was a good thing, but we could also see another squall headed our way - oh well :-( Pretty much a carbon copy of the first one, it blew harder, rain pelted us, and the seas got just a little nastier. Thankfully it too blew over fairly quickly, but another wave crashed on top of us too…okay, enough of that!
As we neared the coast of St. Lucia the seas thankfully began to lay down a little, but the wind kept on blowing like stink - at least we were going to get there quickly! When we got within a couple miles of Rodney Bay we could see the huge masts of the “Club Med,” a sailing cruise ship anchored in the harbor, followed shortly afterwards by dozens and dozens of masts…we’re getting close now! Once behind the lee of Pigeon Island, which forms the northern part of the harbor, we dropped our sails and motored into the bay, found a spot off the nice white sand beach and dropped the anchor. Hot showers and hot rum toddies for everybody!
So, looking back, was it a good or dumb idea to make the jump when we did? I had checked and rechecked the weather, and the actual crossing was pretty much what I had expected. It was forecast to worsen over the next few days, so we would have been stuck in Martinique for 4-5 days. Avalon (and crew) proved to be up to the challenge. That said, I’m not anxious to jump right out there and do it again today! It’s a good feeling though to know you can do it if you have to.
And then my wife took off!
It didn’t take long for the full force of the wind and waves to cause us to look at each other with eyebrows raised with a sort of “Gee, it really is kind of rough out here, huh?” look. Emmy likes to start out steering, so I busied myself making sure that the sails were set right, checking navigation and double checking to make sure everything on the boat was ready for some bouncing around. The seas were kind of confused, with huge swells coming in from the east (largest I’ve seen since bringing Avalon down from Connecticut in 2005), mixed in with cross swells and wind chop coming from the northeast, which made the ride kind of squirrelly.
About halfway across we could see a squall approaching, the forecast had alerted us to the likelihood of 30+ knot winds accompanying occasional squalls, so we put our foul weather jackets on and I took over steering just as the rain started. Almost immediately the wind whipped up and blew the rain sideways, making each drop that hit any unprotected skin feel like a needle…owww! The biggest gusts hit just as another sailboat was nearing us going in the opposite direction, which made it even more interesting, because visibility was reduced to maybe a couple hundred yards. We slacked the sheets a little and ran off with the wind, keeping a sharp eye out for the other boat, which passed us nearby.
The squall passed over us after about ten minutes and we were feeling pretty good, as the wind backed down a little and the rain stopped. The seas had built a little bit steeper though, and as I was steering through a trough I could see the next one start to steepen and turn a lovely shade of bright pale blue along its top, and realized it was getting ready to break…right on top of... us! I yelled, “Hold on!” to Emmy, and it came down, drenching us and filling the cockpit with fifty or so gallons of sea water . We sputtered and looked at each other for a moment, then checked to make sure the cockpit drains were working - a minute later the water was gone, but we both looked like drowned rats. Yuck.
But there was no time to shower, sit and chat, or even really towel off, as we had our hands full with Avalon hurtling southbound like a late night freight train - exhilarating is as good a word as any I suppose, there’s an undeniable excitement that comes with piloting a sailboat in conditions like these, offset by the realization that there are many things that could go wrong, so your senses tune up to a higher state of awareness, and adrenalin kicks your body into high gear.
St. Lucia ahead was starting to look a lot larger than Martinique behind us, which was a good thing, but we could also see another squall headed our way - oh well :-( Pretty much a carbon copy of the first one, it blew harder, rain pelted us, and the seas got just a little nastier. Thankfully it too blew over fairly quickly, but another wave crashed on top of us too…okay, enough of that!
As we neared the coast of St. Lucia the seas thankfully began to lay down a little, but the wind kept on blowing like stink - at least we were going to get there quickly! When we got within a couple miles of Rodney Bay we could see the huge masts of the “Club Med,” a sailing cruise ship anchored in the harbor, followed shortly afterwards by dozens and dozens of masts…we’re getting close now! Once behind the lee of Pigeon Island, which forms the northern part of the harbor, we dropped our sails and motored into the bay, found a spot off the nice white sand beach and dropped the anchor. Hot showers and hot rum toddies for everybody!
So, looking back, was it a good or dumb idea to make the jump when we did? I had checked and rechecked the weather, and the actual crossing was pretty much what I had expected. It was forecast to worsen over the next few days, so we would have been stuck in Martinique for 4-5 days. Avalon (and crew) proved to be up to the challenge. That said, I’m not anxious to jump right out there and do it again today! It’s a good feeling though to know you can do it if you have to.
And then my wife took off!
Martinique, "La Belle Creole"
We departed Portsmouth before dawn, because we had a pretty long way to go, and the harbor was very straightforward. It was another nice motorsail close alongside the calm, lee shore of Dominica, providing glimpses of beaches, towns and Roseau, the capital. Once past the southern tip of Dominica the wind came up brisk but fair for our crossing to Martinique, and the seas weren’t too bad, so we shut the engine down and enjoyed a fast passage, hitting 7.5 knots a few times, with just a double reefed main up and not much jib unrolled!
We arrived off St. Pierre in the early afternoon, but the anchorage (really just an open roadstead) looked iffy at best, especially with northerly groundswells forecast, so we proceeded on to Fort du France, another dozen miles or so. As we entered the harbor we were impressed by the “big city look,” of the place, with tallish buildings in the city and suburbs covering the surrounding hills.
After 12 hours underway we anchored for the night on the far side of the huge bay at Trois Islet, a lovely quiet and calm anchorage just off a small village, and enjoyed a very peaceful night. The next morning we moved across to Fort des France, and anchored right next to the high stone walls of the old fort guarding the city, in 15’ of surprisingly clear and calm water, with the whole city spread out in front of us.
We went ashore and walked around awhile - we had heard that “the strike” was also affecting Martinique, so we weren’t too surprised that traffic was very light, and almost everything was closed. We spoke to a couple vendors in a crafts market, and they filled us in on some of the history of strikes in Martinique, which at least on a couple of occasions have resulted in riots and shootings. Mmmmm….gee, that’s nice.
The city itself has a blend of French colonial, Caribbean and modern architecture, with some hints of New Orleans maybe? As we walked along we could hear some drums beating and someone giving a speech in French over a PA system. We turned a corner and there were hundreds of folks in red t-shirts, carrying banners and generally looking like they were enjoying themselves - no “bad vibes” that we could see, so we walked around the demonstration site, the local headquarters of the French government, soaking up the unusual atmosphere.
We stumbled upon an open music shop, and Emmy immediately started looking for some “Zouk” and other Caribbean music CD’s, while I continued the people watching. It was obvious we weren’t going to be able to rent a car for touring the rest of the island, and probably 95% of the businesses were closed for the strike. It sounded like the strike was going to go on for at least another week, so we resigned ourselves to a short visit. We found an open restaurant (yay!) and had some pretty good Creole food, and headed back to the boat.
A couple days later we were prowling around town midday (I had found an open marine supply store) and we tracked down an internet café perched on the bank of a river that runs through town, so we settled in for some email, web-browsing and French coffee. The French equivalent of CNN was playing on a TV, and I was trying to see if I could tell what was going on by struggling through the crawl at the bottom of the screen (no way was I having any luck deciphering what the newslady was saying), when we heard the drums and PA system cranking up again.
A couple guys wearing black t-shirts that said “Security” pulled up in front of the café on motorcycles, and blocked the bridge across the river. The café proprietor hit a switch and metal shutters began rolling down over the windows, and Emmy and I looked at each other cautiously. The shutters had slits in them, so for the next twenty minutes we had ringside seats for the day’s protest march, complete with chants, songs, drums, and unintelligible urgings in French over the PA system. The other café patrons paid attention to what was going on, but no one seemed terribly concerned, so we just soaked it in. After the last marcher disappeared from view the shutters were opened, and were soon on our way back to the boat. Hmmmm…interesting.
Back on St. Croix, Valentina was preparing to return to Italy, and Ara had agreed to house-sit for awhile, so Emmy thought it best to fly to St. Croix for a week to help with the transition. We had found flights available on Liat from St. Lucia to St. Croix, and purchased a ticket online, for the next week. The weather wasn’t so hot out in the open ocean (windy and big seas), but the forecast said it would get worse in a couple of days and stay nasty for awhile. Most everything is closed in Martinique anyway…okay, let’s go!
We walked back to the police station to clear out, but were told we had to go to another place…and no one was there? This was a Friday, and as we walked back through town we saw a lot of the red-shirted demonstrators sitting around drinking potent rum punches. Somehow the “vibe” was deteriorating, and things just felt tenser. We bought some ice, and filled a few jerry jugs with water, and started getting the boat ready to go the next morning. That night we in fact heard a few gunshots, and were happy to get on the road at first light.
Would we go back to Martinique? You bet, it’s one of the most beautiful and varied islands in the Caribbean, but I don’t think I’d plan on spending any time there until after the strike is settled. Until then, Au Revoir!
We arrived off St. Pierre in the early afternoon, but the anchorage (really just an open roadstead) looked iffy at best, especially with northerly groundswells forecast, so we proceeded on to Fort du France, another dozen miles or so. As we entered the harbor we were impressed by the “big city look,” of the place, with tallish buildings in the city and suburbs covering the surrounding hills.
After 12 hours underway we anchored for the night on the far side of the huge bay at Trois Islet, a lovely quiet and calm anchorage just off a small village, and enjoyed a very peaceful night. The next morning we moved across to Fort des France, and anchored right next to the high stone walls of the old fort guarding the city, in 15’ of surprisingly clear and calm water, with the whole city spread out in front of us.
We went ashore and walked around awhile - we had heard that “the strike” was also affecting Martinique, so we weren’t too surprised that traffic was very light, and almost everything was closed. We spoke to a couple vendors in a crafts market, and they filled us in on some of the history of strikes in Martinique, which at least on a couple of occasions have resulted in riots and shootings. Mmmmm….gee, that’s nice.
The city itself has a blend of French colonial, Caribbean and modern architecture, with some hints of New Orleans maybe? As we walked along we could hear some drums beating and someone giving a speech in French over a PA system. We turned a corner and there were hundreds of folks in red t-shirts, carrying banners and generally looking like they were enjoying themselves - no “bad vibes” that we could see, so we walked around the demonstration site, the local headquarters of the French government, soaking up the unusual atmosphere.
We stumbled upon an open music shop, and Emmy immediately started looking for some “Zouk” and other Caribbean music CD’s, while I continued the people watching. It was obvious we weren’t going to be able to rent a car for touring the rest of the island, and probably 95% of the businesses were closed for the strike. It sounded like the strike was going to go on for at least another week, so we resigned ourselves to a short visit. We found an open restaurant (yay!) and had some pretty good Creole food, and headed back to the boat.
A couple days later we were prowling around town midday (I had found an open marine supply store) and we tracked down an internet café perched on the bank of a river that runs through town, so we settled in for some email, web-browsing and French coffee. The French equivalent of CNN was playing on a TV, and I was trying to see if I could tell what was going on by struggling through the crawl at the bottom of the screen (no way was I having any luck deciphering what the newslady was saying), when we heard the drums and PA system cranking up again.
A couple guys wearing black t-shirts that said “Security” pulled up in front of the café on motorcycles, and blocked the bridge across the river. The café proprietor hit a switch and metal shutters began rolling down over the windows, and Emmy and I looked at each other cautiously. The shutters had slits in them, so for the next twenty minutes we had ringside seats for the day’s protest march, complete with chants, songs, drums, and unintelligible urgings in French over the PA system. The other café patrons paid attention to what was going on, but no one seemed terribly concerned, so we just soaked it in. After the last marcher disappeared from view the shutters were opened, and were soon on our way back to the boat. Hmmmm…interesting.
Back on St. Croix, Valentina was preparing to return to Italy, and Ara had agreed to house-sit for awhile, so Emmy thought it best to fly to St. Croix for a week to help with the transition. We had found flights available on Liat from St. Lucia to St. Croix, and purchased a ticket online, for the next week. The weather wasn’t so hot out in the open ocean (windy and big seas), but the forecast said it would get worse in a couple of days and stay nasty for awhile. Most everything is closed in Martinique anyway…okay, let’s go!
We walked back to the police station to clear out, but were told we had to go to another place…and no one was there? This was a Friday, and as we walked back through town we saw a lot of the red-shirted demonstrators sitting around drinking potent rum punches. Somehow the “vibe” was deteriorating, and things just felt tenser. We bought some ice, and filled a few jerry jugs with water, and started getting the boat ready to go the next morning. That night we in fact heard a few gunshots, and were happy to get on the road at first light.
Would we go back to Martinique? You bet, it’s one of the most beautiful and varied islands in the Caribbean, but I don’t think I’d plan on spending any time there until after the strike is settled. Until then, Au Revoir!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Iles Des Saints, Guadalupe
Emmy and I felt a little regret at leaving Deshaies, Guadeloupe, as we liked it and felt there was a lot more exploring we‘d like to do…but the island-wide strike meant that rental cars were nearly impossible to come by, and local buses weren’t on schedule - so after a few days we decided to move on to our next port o’ call, Terre De Haut, in the tiny group of islands between Guadeloupe and Dominica called “The Saintes,” about 30 miles away.
We started out motorsailing again, close to shore and in the lee of Guadeloupe, a very mountainous island, which blocks much of the tradewinds for miles to the west of the island. It was easy going in flat seas and gentle breezes, and we again had a great time watching the villages pass by along the way.
As we neared the southern tip of Guadeloupe we talked through the special situation just ahead. The tradewinds funnel between the big islands of Guadeloupe and Dominica, resulting in a sharply defined and sudden change in wind speed and seas once you leave the protection of Guadeloupe. Wow! The wind went straight from 5 knots to 25 knots, and stayed there for the entire 7 miles crossing! And the seas went from zero to about 8 feet at the same time - luckily all this is well documented in the cruising guides, and I’d experienced the same thing, when sailing here years ago, so we were well prepared, and actually had a rollicking good sail across to The Saintes.
The main harbor is pretty well protected, and although there were quite a few boats already anchored, we were able to find a great spot quite close to shore. It’s always nice to relax once the sails are secured, the anchor’s down and engine is off, and just let the quiet stillness sink in…ahhhh! Before long I jumped into the crystal clear, perfect temp water with my mask, to check the anchor set and just paddle around a little, enjoying the views and the small feelings of accomplishment that every safe arrival brings.
I had really fallen in love with the Saintes when I last visited here in 1979, and was greatly looking forward to returning. Emmy had never been here, and after my big buildup I hoped it hadn’t been turned into another cookie cutter cruise ship stop. There are a lot more cruising boats here now than “back in the day,” ferries to Pointe Pitre on Guadeloupe now run several times a day, and there seem to be quite a few new homes dotting the hillsides…but…we didn’t see any imposing mansions or mega-yachts…yay!
Emmy went ashore to explore, while I cleaned up a little and took a snooze? She returned with goodies and some soaps she had helped cut, stamp and package at a little shop in town. Bruno, the owner of the Atelier de Savone was really friendly and quite helpful during our stay. The tiny streets and buildings in “Le Bourg” were little changed and people were still quite warm.
Over the next several days we hiked to different parts of the island, enjoying unbelievable views of the island and the sea, stopping for lunch, and buying “torment d’amour,” tarts that, according to lore, the local women have baked for many years to help keep themselves happy while their men went to sea. Fresh French bread…nothing like it, Emmy figured out we could get hot bread in the afternoons so we got it right out of the oven!
Terre de Haut is Guadalupe’s best kept secret happy and friendly people, good food, fun shopping and lots of exercise walking up and down the hills. No need to rent a car you can walk the length and breath of the island.
We had a really enjoyable time, and we could have easily stayed much longer, but…well, lots more islands to see out here. On our way back north we’ll likely stop at Marie-Gallant, a much less visited island, so we may not be back this way. C’est la vie! On to Dominica!
We started out motorsailing again, close to shore and in the lee of Guadeloupe, a very mountainous island, which blocks much of the tradewinds for miles to the west of the island. It was easy going in flat seas and gentle breezes, and we again had a great time watching the villages pass by along the way.
As we neared the southern tip of Guadeloupe we talked through the special situation just ahead. The tradewinds funnel between the big islands of Guadeloupe and Dominica, resulting in a sharply defined and sudden change in wind speed and seas once you leave the protection of Guadeloupe. Wow! The wind went straight from 5 knots to 25 knots, and stayed there for the entire 7 miles crossing! And the seas went from zero to about 8 feet at the same time - luckily all this is well documented in the cruising guides, and I’d experienced the same thing, when sailing here years ago, so we were well prepared, and actually had a rollicking good sail across to The Saintes.
The main harbor is pretty well protected, and although there were quite a few boats already anchored, we were able to find a great spot quite close to shore. It’s always nice to relax once the sails are secured, the anchor’s down and engine is off, and just let the quiet stillness sink in…ahhhh! Before long I jumped into the crystal clear, perfect temp water with my mask, to check the anchor set and just paddle around a little, enjoying the views and the small feelings of accomplishment that every safe arrival brings.
I had really fallen in love with the Saintes when I last visited here in 1979, and was greatly looking forward to returning. Emmy had never been here, and after my big buildup I hoped it hadn’t been turned into another cookie cutter cruise ship stop. There are a lot more cruising boats here now than “back in the day,” ferries to Pointe Pitre on Guadeloupe now run several times a day, and there seem to be quite a few new homes dotting the hillsides…but…we didn’t see any imposing mansions or mega-yachts…yay!
Emmy went ashore to explore, while I cleaned up a little and took a snooze? She returned with goodies and some soaps she had helped cut, stamp and package at a little shop in town. Bruno, the owner of the Atelier de Savone was really friendly and quite helpful during our stay. The tiny streets and buildings in “Le Bourg” were little changed and people were still quite warm.
Over the next several days we hiked to different parts of the island, enjoying unbelievable views of the island and the sea, stopping for lunch, and buying “torment d’amour,” tarts that, according to lore, the local women have baked for many years to help keep themselves happy while their men went to sea. Fresh French bread…nothing like it, Emmy figured out we could get hot bread in the afternoons so we got it right out of the oven!
Terre de Haut is Guadalupe’s best kept secret happy and friendly people, good food, fun shopping and lots of exercise walking up and down the hills. No need to rent a car you can walk the length and breath of the island.
We had a really enjoyable time, and we could have easily stayed much longer, but…well, lots more islands to see out here. On our way back north we’ll likely stop at Marie-Gallant, a much less visited island, so we may not be back this way. C’est la vie! On to Dominica!
Deshaies, Guadalupe
We had a great sail from Montserrat to Guadeloupe, although the wind kicked up a bit the last couple of hours so we had to “reef down” (adjust the sails to make them smaller), and we arrived in Deshaies (pronounced De-hay) early Sunday afternoon. A fairly small harbor, naturally carved into the hills and pretty well protected from the prevailing wind and swells, together with a quaint small village ashore make Deshaies a popular stopover spot for yachts moving north and south through the Caribbean, and we anchored among a dozen sailboats with flags from several countries (including one that I still haven’t been able to identify). As we set the anchor a small sea turtle surfaced alongside the boat, popped his head up and watched us, as if to say “Do I know you?”
We were a little beat after two longish days in a row of sailing, so relaxed a bit before putting the dinghy in the water and going ashore in late afternoon. It was really quiet in town, but we found a little grocery store and got some local bananas and veggies, and located the boulangerie (bakery), so we could get some fresh French bread in the morning - the French take their bread very seriously, and getting fresh bread in the morning is a treat - it’s delicious!
The next day (Monday), while listening to the “Coconut Telegraph” cruiser’s net on the SSB radio, a boat in Nevis asked if anybody knew if the strike in Guadeloupe was over. Strike? What strike? We went ashore and found Customs and cleared in. No problems, even though our papers (from Nevis) didn’t say anything about Guadeloupe being our next port as they should have (Ahhhh, I can breathe again). We asked about the strike, and in broken English (our French is rudimentary at best) the Customs officer explained that for several weeks there had been a general strike going on, protesting high taxes and gasoline prices. The gas stations all over the island are closed, no taxis, no rental cars, no garbage pickup (that explains the mound of trash we saw walking to Customs), etc. Hmmmm…that may make it just a little more difficult to explore the island!
Although physically and geologically very close, and with very similar climate, flora and fauna, the French islands (especially Guadeloupe & Martinique) are worlds apart developmentally and culturally from the former British islands. Different architecture, language, money and sensibilities makes exploring even a little more fun and challenging.
The little village of Deshaies, stuck way up on the northwest tip of Guadeloupe, is a bit off the beaten track for most land based tourists, and far from the island’s population center at Pointe Pitre. The handful of little shops and restaurants that ring the harbor were pretty empty, with very little automobile traffic on the streets…the strike had hit the town pretty hard, and was the #1 topic on everyone’s lips. For some reason Guadeloupeans seem to like to strike, and the island is sort of famous for it, so while people were peeved, they were also generally resigned to it.
We spent a few days walking around the area, trying out our rusty French, and relaxing. One day I dug out the scuba gear and spent some time cleaning the propeller and bottom of the boat, because even though the water is beautifully clear, it’s also very fertile, and weed and barnacles grow quickly, creating your very own marine eco-system if you let it!
Our fresh water tanks on Avalon only hold about 110 gallons, and we don’t have a reverse osmosis water maker aboard, so after a couple weeks of cooking, cleaning and showering we needed to replenish our supply. The guide book said there was water available ashore, so we loaded a few empty five gallon jerry jugs and about a dozen one gallon jugs into the dinghy and headed over to the fishermen’s dock, inside a small boat marina of sorts (not large enough for us to get Avalon in).
We saw a fisherman cleaning fish and asked, “Ou et l’eau?” while holding up a jerry jug, hoping that was at least understandable, and the guy looked at us quizzically but eventually pointed to a small building a hundred yards away. The building was locked up tight, and we never did figure out what it was for, but an attached spigot shot water out at fire hose like pressure when we opened the tap - voila! It smelled of chlorine a bit, and we wouldn’t be drinking it unless we boiled it first, so we started filling and then shuttled the jugs back and forth to the boat for a couple of hours.
We had dinner one evening at “Barbuto,“ a neat little place overlooking the harbor (just about everything overlooks the harbor here), and had a nice conversation with Elissa, the hostess/owner (her broken English was better than our broken French!), who gave us some background info on the area and of course more on the strike. She and her husband had heard rumors that a strike was imminent, so they had stocked up a little on food and supplies for the restaurant, but business was slow, and you could feel the tension in her voice.
It didn’t sound like the strike was going to be lifted anytime soon, so we looked at the chart and decided to move on to “Iles Des Saintes,” a small group of islands midway between Guadeloupe and Dominica, about 30 miles south of Deshaies. We’d like to come back to Deshaies again sometime…maybe on the way north? Gee, there are starting to be a lot of places we’d like to go back to! In the meantime, onward to the “The Saintes!”
We were a little beat after two longish days in a row of sailing, so relaxed a bit before putting the dinghy in the water and going ashore in late afternoon. It was really quiet in town, but we found a little grocery store and got some local bananas and veggies, and located the boulangerie (bakery), so we could get some fresh French bread in the morning - the French take their bread very seriously, and getting fresh bread in the morning is a treat - it’s delicious!
The next day (Monday), while listening to the “Coconut Telegraph” cruiser’s net on the SSB radio, a boat in Nevis asked if anybody knew if the strike in Guadeloupe was over. Strike? What strike? We went ashore and found Customs and cleared in. No problems, even though our papers (from Nevis) didn’t say anything about Guadeloupe being our next port as they should have (Ahhhh, I can breathe again). We asked about the strike, and in broken English (our French is rudimentary at best) the Customs officer explained that for several weeks there had been a general strike going on, protesting high taxes and gasoline prices. The gas stations all over the island are closed, no taxis, no rental cars, no garbage pickup (that explains the mound of trash we saw walking to Customs), etc. Hmmmm…that may make it just a little more difficult to explore the island!
Although physically and geologically very close, and with very similar climate, flora and fauna, the French islands (especially Guadeloupe & Martinique) are worlds apart developmentally and culturally from the former British islands. Different architecture, language, money and sensibilities makes exploring even a little more fun and challenging.
The little village of Deshaies, stuck way up on the northwest tip of Guadeloupe, is a bit off the beaten track for most land based tourists, and far from the island’s population center at Pointe Pitre. The handful of little shops and restaurants that ring the harbor were pretty empty, with very little automobile traffic on the streets…the strike had hit the town pretty hard, and was the #1 topic on everyone’s lips. For some reason Guadeloupeans seem to like to strike, and the island is sort of famous for it, so while people were peeved, they were also generally resigned to it.
We spent a few days walking around the area, trying out our rusty French, and relaxing. One day I dug out the scuba gear and spent some time cleaning the propeller and bottom of the boat, because even though the water is beautifully clear, it’s also very fertile, and weed and barnacles grow quickly, creating your very own marine eco-system if you let it!
Our fresh water tanks on Avalon only hold about 110 gallons, and we don’t have a reverse osmosis water maker aboard, so after a couple weeks of cooking, cleaning and showering we needed to replenish our supply. The guide book said there was water available ashore, so we loaded a few empty five gallon jerry jugs and about a dozen one gallon jugs into the dinghy and headed over to the fishermen’s dock, inside a small boat marina of sorts (not large enough for us to get Avalon in).
We saw a fisherman cleaning fish and asked, “Ou et l’eau?” while holding up a jerry jug, hoping that was at least understandable, and the guy looked at us quizzically but eventually pointed to a small building a hundred yards away. The building was locked up tight, and we never did figure out what it was for, but an attached spigot shot water out at fire hose like pressure when we opened the tap - voila! It smelled of chlorine a bit, and we wouldn’t be drinking it unless we boiled it first, so we started filling and then shuttled the jugs back and forth to the boat for a couple of hours.
We had dinner one evening at “Barbuto,“ a neat little place overlooking the harbor (just about everything overlooks the harbor here), and had a nice conversation with Elissa, the hostess/owner (her broken English was better than our broken French!), who gave us some background info on the area and of course more on the strike. She and her husband had heard rumors that a strike was imminent, so they had stocked up a little on food and supplies for the restaurant, but business was slow, and you could feel the tension in her voice.
It didn’t sound like the strike was going to be lifted anytime soon, so we looked at the chart and decided to move on to “Iles Des Saintes,” a small group of islands midway between Guadeloupe and Dominica, about 30 miles south of Deshaies. We’d like to come back to Deshaies again sometime…maybe on the way north? Gee, there are starting to be a lot of places we’d like to go back to! In the meantime, onward to the “The Saintes!”
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Happy Cruisers
Sunset off the coast of Culebra. Note Brian's relaxed look-think he is happy?
Welcome to Culebra
Entrance to Dewey, to the right is the little canal that takes you into the lagoon. This is where we stayed for a week.