It has been quite some time since we entered these "pages", our life continues to be an adventure.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Le Savonaire
Emmy and Bruno, the soap maker, in Ilse de Saintes. Bruno turned out to be a life saver and friend during our visit in Terre de Haute. We will see him again on our way back north.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Dominica Rerun
It’s a pretty long jump to make it from Fort de France all the way up to Portsmouth, Dominica in daylight (approx 68 miles), but it’s doable with favorable winds and an early start. So we were up and at ‘em bright and early, and were underway before 6 AM. We motored along the lee shore of Martinique 15 miles up to the northern tip of the island, and then struck out for Dominica, about 30 miles away. These inter-island passages can be easy or difficult, and sometimes conditions don’t seem to match up with the forecast as quite as well as you’d hope. This time around though things went according to plan, and it was a nice sail across.
Once across into the lee of Dominica the seas calmed down, and we stayed a few miles offshore, so we held onto some wind for awhile and were able to sail on for a few miles before we had to turn the engine on again. After a pretty long, uneventful day we were approaching the harbor at Portsmouth when we saw really dark clouds easing over the mountaintops towards us, and before long we could see heavy sheets of rain pouring down, and heading towards us, eventually blotting out most of the land.
So it was back to closely watching the chart plotter screen and carefully checking our charts as we throttled down a little and crossed our fingers that we wouldn’t have to anchor in a full-on tropical downpour. Just as we eased into the bay the skies brightened up a little and the rain tailed off (thank-you!), and we found a nice spot just off the “Purple Turtle” bar & restaurant to drop the anchor in the large smooth bay.
We’re trying to get some miles under our belt on the way back home to St. Croix, so we only planned on anchoring overnight, and didn’t go ashore. The game plan is to head over to Marie-Gallant if the weather in the morning is favorable, or back up to Les Saintes if the wind is blowing out of the east. We enjoyed a quiet dinner aboard, and settled down for a calm evening of rest. And then came a “whoomp.” Whoomp-whoomp. Whoomp-whoomp, whoomp-whoomp-whoomp. Hmmm…that sounds like the bass line of some sort of music…and it is Saturday night…I guess they may have some music at the Purple Turtle tonight.
And so it continued until 4AM! The craziest thing is that when I looked ashore closely around 2AM, there didn’t appear to be anybody at the bar, but the music was blaring across the bay at sonic boom levels. Sheesh. So we slept in a little and didn’t get quite the early jump we’d hoped for - the wind was whistling too, so it looks like Marie-Gallant will have to wait until another time, we’re on our way to Les Saintes. Goodbye Dominica!
Once across into the lee of Dominica the seas calmed down, and we stayed a few miles offshore, so we held onto some wind for awhile and were able to sail on for a few miles before we had to turn the engine on again. After a pretty long, uneventful day we were approaching the harbor at Portsmouth when we saw really dark clouds easing over the mountaintops towards us, and before long we could see heavy sheets of rain pouring down, and heading towards us, eventually blotting out most of the land.
So it was back to closely watching the chart plotter screen and carefully checking our charts as we throttled down a little and crossed our fingers that we wouldn’t have to anchor in a full-on tropical downpour. Just as we eased into the bay the skies brightened up a little and the rain tailed off (thank-you!), and we found a nice spot just off the “Purple Turtle” bar & restaurant to drop the anchor in the large smooth bay.
We’re trying to get some miles under our belt on the way back home to St. Croix, so we only planned on anchoring overnight, and didn’t go ashore. The game plan is to head over to Marie-Gallant if the weather in the morning is favorable, or back up to Les Saintes if the wind is blowing out of the east. We enjoyed a quiet dinner aboard, and settled down for a calm evening of rest. And then came a “whoomp.” Whoomp-whoomp. Whoomp-whoomp, whoomp-whoomp-whoomp. Hmmm…that sounds like the bass line of some sort of music…and it is Saturday night…I guess they may have some music at the Purple Turtle tonight.
And so it continued until 4AM! The craziest thing is that when I looked ashore closely around 2AM, there didn’t appear to be anybody at the bar, but the music was blaring across the bay at sonic boom levels. Sheesh. So we slept in a little and didn’t get quite the early jump we’d hoped for - the wind was whistling too, so it looks like Marie-Gallant will have to wait until another time, we’re on our way to Les Saintes. Goodbye Dominica!
Martinique Redux
The last time we were in Martinique there was an island-wide general strike underway, and we left the morning after we heard gunshots in the night, only to have a wild and wooly sail to St. Lucia, with the highest winds and biggest seas we’ve seen on the whole trip. We approached that same body of water with a better weather forecast and the knowledge that it can get a little crazy out there. This time as we slipped north from St. Lucia the wind and seas started to build as expected, and we saw a couple other boats going too.
Within half an hour of leaving Rodney Bay we were smoking along at eight knots over the bottom, with a double reefed main and about half the jib rolled up. The wind (around 20 knots) and seas (approx 5-6’) were just forward of the beam, so it wasn’t too bad, but the combination made steering strenuous, so I took over from Emmy. The next two hours saw more of the same, and the GPS showed we were making 8.6-8.7 knots, pretty quick for a forty footer, so it looked like we were enjoying a favorable current. St. Lucia rapidly shrank and then disappeared behind, while Martinique quickly grew in size and definition up ahead. My shoulders were starting to talk to me as we reached the lee of Martinique, where the seas and wind began to ease. We pulled into Fort de France after four and a half hours, and happily anchored under the old fort again, thankful for a quick and uneventful passage.
Fort de France had a whole different “vibe” with the strike lifted, with lots of traffic on the streets and people crowding the sidewalks, and all the shops were open for business. Last visit we had some problems getting Customs and Immigration service at the commercial port, and after asking a few people and getting contradictory answers, we were very happy this time to find a “do-it-yourself” clearance computer at a marine supply store in town. I know it sounds crazy, but I just filled in the information about the boat, passports, prior and next port, printed the document and handed it to the clerk in the shop. She gave it a cursory look, signed it and handed it across the counter - we were cleared in and out of Martinique, without showing any documents of any kind!
After we completed Customs formalities we found a little patisserie nearby and had some quiche, tasty pastries and coffee, then Emmy went off exploring the shops in town while I shuttled jerry jugs of diesel to the boat from a funky little marina nearby. Fort de France itself seems a little past its prime, but is vibrant, alive and real. We didn’t have much on “the list,” but the open air market had a great selection of fresh local veggies and fruit, and it’s hard to be on a French island without picking up some fresh bread (baguette) and cheese. Oh yeah, we also needed another bottle of that ten year old Clemant rum! As we walked around we came to realize that there are a lot of strikingly attractive people here, and the Martinician people we met were quite friendly, and very forgiving of our pretty thin grasp of French.
Now that we’re getting into Spring the frequency and strength of north swell events has thankfully tailed off a bit, and it was tempting to stop off at St. Pierre on the way north, which would shorten the longish passage up to Dominica, but we were enjoying snooping around Fort de France so much that we opted to hang around there instead, and then make the 68 mile hop all the way up to Portsmouth. The forecast looked good, so at first light we bid au revoir to La Madinina (the old name for Martinique), and headed north…sigh.
Within half an hour of leaving Rodney Bay we were smoking along at eight knots over the bottom, with a double reefed main and about half the jib rolled up. The wind (around 20 knots) and seas (approx 5-6’) were just forward of the beam, so it wasn’t too bad, but the combination made steering strenuous, so I took over from Emmy. The next two hours saw more of the same, and the GPS showed we were making 8.6-8.7 knots, pretty quick for a forty footer, so it looked like we were enjoying a favorable current. St. Lucia rapidly shrank and then disappeared behind, while Martinique quickly grew in size and definition up ahead. My shoulders were starting to talk to me as we reached the lee of Martinique, where the seas and wind began to ease. We pulled into Fort de France after four and a half hours, and happily anchored under the old fort again, thankful for a quick and uneventful passage.
Fort de France had a whole different “vibe” with the strike lifted, with lots of traffic on the streets and people crowding the sidewalks, and all the shops were open for business. Last visit we had some problems getting Customs and Immigration service at the commercial port, and after asking a few people and getting contradictory answers, we were very happy this time to find a “do-it-yourself” clearance computer at a marine supply store in town. I know it sounds crazy, but I just filled in the information about the boat, passports, prior and next port, printed the document and handed it to the clerk in the shop. She gave it a cursory look, signed it and handed it across the counter - we were cleared in and out of Martinique, without showing any documents of any kind!
After we completed Customs formalities we found a little patisserie nearby and had some quiche, tasty pastries and coffee, then Emmy went off exploring the shops in town while I shuttled jerry jugs of diesel to the boat from a funky little marina nearby. Fort de France itself seems a little past its prime, but is vibrant, alive and real. We didn’t have much on “the list,” but the open air market had a great selection of fresh local veggies and fruit, and it’s hard to be on a French island without picking up some fresh bread (baguette) and cheese. Oh yeah, we also needed another bottle of that ten year old Clemant rum! As we walked around we came to realize that there are a lot of strikingly attractive people here, and the Martinician people we met were quite friendly, and very forgiving of our pretty thin grasp of French.
Now that we’re getting into Spring the frequency and strength of north swell events has thankfully tailed off a bit, and it was tempting to stop off at St. Pierre on the way north, which would shorten the longish passage up to Dominica, but we were enjoying snooping around Fort de France so much that we opted to hang around there instead, and then make the 68 mile hop all the way up to Portsmouth. The forecast looked good, so at first light we bid au revoir to La Madinina (the old name for Martinique), and headed north…sigh.
St. Lucia North Bound
The passage from Bequia to Rodney Bay, St. Lucia was a long one (72 nautical miles), as we again decided to pass St. Vincent by. One day I would like to give St. Vincent a try though, it looks so unbelievably rugged, green and beautiful. We had a fairly good day of sailing, and then motor sailing along the lee of St. Lucia, but as sunset neared we considered stopping at Marigot. As we got closer though, we watched as a couple of boats headed into the narrow entrance only to come right back out a few minutes later. As we pulled abeam of the entrance we could see the reason why, as the entire harbor was full - no room at the inn - so we had to push on to Rodney Bay after all, a wonderful harbor but one we would have to enter at night, always an interesting prospect!
We had been in and out of Rodney Bay before of course, we had decent charts, and the electronic chart plotter showed good detail, but it was still a little nerve-wracking as twilight faded into darkness (no moon), and the lights on shore mixed with the navigation lights marking a few rocks and reefs. We talked through what we expected to see and do, and as the harbor opened up in front of us we could see the anchor lights of a couple dozen other sailboats. We eased in slowly, trying to make sure we didn’t run into any unlit boats, buoys or fish pots, and closely watched the depth finder. We found a spot that seemed pretty good, and dropped anchor after 14 hours underway. The bliss you’re filled with upon reaching a calm, snug anchorage after a long day at sea is hard to adequately describe, but believe me, it’s sweet!
The Atlantic Rally for Cruisers (ARC) is an event that gathers together over 100 yachts from small to large, to sail together in the fall from Europe to Rodney Bay, St. Lucia. Then everybody sails around the Caribbean for the season, some race, some cruise, and then they gather back at Rodney Bay in the Spring to sail back to Europe. So you come across a lot of interesting boats and people here who have actually crossed the Atlantic, no mean feat in itself. As we discovered on our way south, there’s also a good marine supply store, laundry, grocery shopping, etc., so it’s a very handy place to take care of items on “The List,” There’s always a list. We had one, and started checking things off.
We also decided to rent a car and buzz around the island to do some sightseeing, because we never got around to that the last time we were here. We drive on the left side on St. Croix, so that part is pretty easy, to get used to, but here most of the cars have their steering wheel on the right side of the car, which is an odd sensation for both the driver AND the front seat passenger! Some of the controls are located differently too (I frequently hit the wipers when I wanted to use the turn signals).
We drove east across the mid-section of the island, up a winding road into the rain forest, with giant tree ferns and bamboo, and enjoyed some wonderful vistas. We then dropped down to the eastern coast and made our way south to Vieux Fort, and then started up the west coast towards the Pitons. If you’ve been following, you may recall we spent an awful, rolly night anchored at the base of the Pitons, and we didn’t get to see the famous Jalousie hotel ashore there…so we decided to make a stop by car! It’s another one of those places that’s difficult to adequately describe, a quintessential small Caribbean resort in an overpowering natural setting. Pictures can’t really do justice to the overwhelming sensation of vertigo you experience walking around at the foot of the sheer cliffs of these towering behemoths.
The resort itself “needs a coat of paint” and some TLC, but just building it was obviously a labor of love and an outrageous accomplishment, and very nicely done…let’s hope the new owners have the vision (and deep enough pockets) to bring it back. We got back on the coast road and headed north again. following its zigs and zags as it wound its way around dozens of cliffs, ravines and canyons. Many little shacks along the way had a table and chairs set out, and a sign proclaiming so-and so’s bar, hoping to entice travelers to stop for a drink and look out across the Caribbean. We did stop at a little craft shop run by a Rasta, that had a fantastic view and was filled with lots of pretty nice artwork and handicrafts.
One of the things that this trip helped remind me/reinforce, is how much French influence there is on St. Lucia, and on many of the “English speaking” islands in the Caribbean. Most of the islands changed hands numerous times in the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Many of the towns along the way have very French sounding names, and the local folks speak a patois in addition to the Caribbean flavored English. As the sun set we still had a few miles to go, when the gas tank reserve light came on, adding just a little more excitement to the trip…no gas stations on this part of the coast! We finally made it out of the mountains and found a gas station, then drove through Castries and on up to Rodney Bay. We stopped off at an Indian restaurant in the touristy/hotel part of town, and had a pretty tasty dinner.
The next day we dragged the sewing machine out and Emmy repaired the sail cover, bimini and restitched and reinforced the outboard sling (remember that?), while I scrubbed the bottom of the boat and worked on items on our list. All the while we monitored the weather, and after a few days things looked good for our departure to Martinque, so we got ready to go.
We had been in and out of Rodney Bay before of course, we had decent charts, and the electronic chart plotter showed good detail, but it was still a little nerve-wracking as twilight faded into darkness (no moon), and the lights on shore mixed with the navigation lights marking a few rocks and reefs. We talked through what we expected to see and do, and as the harbor opened up in front of us we could see the anchor lights of a couple dozen other sailboats. We eased in slowly, trying to make sure we didn’t run into any unlit boats, buoys or fish pots, and closely watched the depth finder. We found a spot that seemed pretty good, and dropped anchor after 14 hours underway. The bliss you’re filled with upon reaching a calm, snug anchorage after a long day at sea is hard to adequately describe, but believe me, it’s sweet!
The Atlantic Rally for Cruisers (ARC) is an event that gathers together over 100 yachts from small to large, to sail together in the fall from Europe to Rodney Bay, St. Lucia. Then everybody sails around the Caribbean for the season, some race, some cruise, and then they gather back at Rodney Bay in the Spring to sail back to Europe. So you come across a lot of interesting boats and people here who have actually crossed the Atlantic, no mean feat in itself. As we discovered on our way south, there’s also a good marine supply store, laundry, grocery shopping, etc., so it’s a very handy place to take care of items on “The List,” There’s always a list. We had one, and started checking things off.
We also decided to rent a car and buzz around the island to do some sightseeing, because we never got around to that the last time we were here. We drive on the left side on St. Croix, so that part is pretty easy, to get used to, but here most of the cars have their steering wheel on the right side of the car, which is an odd sensation for both the driver AND the front seat passenger! Some of the controls are located differently too (I frequently hit the wipers when I wanted to use the turn signals).
We drove east across the mid-section of the island, up a winding road into the rain forest, with giant tree ferns and bamboo, and enjoyed some wonderful vistas. We then dropped down to the eastern coast and made our way south to Vieux Fort, and then started up the west coast towards the Pitons. If you’ve been following, you may recall we spent an awful, rolly night anchored at the base of the Pitons, and we didn’t get to see the famous Jalousie hotel ashore there…so we decided to make a stop by car! It’s another one of those places that’s difficult to adequately describe, a quintessential small Caribbean resort in an overpowering natural setting. Pictures can’t really do justice to the overwhelming sensation of vertigo you experience walking around at the foot of the sheer cliffs of these towering behemoths.
The resort itself “needs a coat of paint” and some TLC, but just building it was obviously a labor of love and an outrageous accomplishment, and very nicely done…let’s hope the new owners have the vision (and deep enough pockets) to bring it back. We got back on the coast road and headed north again. following its zigs and zags as it wound its way around dozens of cliffs, ravines and canyons. Many little shacks along the way had a table and chairs set out, and a sign proclaiming so-and so’s bar, hoping to entice travelers to stop for a drink and look out across the Caribbean. We did stop at a little craft shop run by a Rasta, that had a fantastic view and was filled with lots of pretty nice artwork and handicrafts.
One of the things that this trip helped remind me/reinforce, is how much French influence there is on St. Lucia, and on many of the “English speaking” islands in the Caribbean. Most of the islands changed hands numerous times in the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Many of the towns along the way have very French sounding names, and the local folks speak a patois in addition to the Caribbean flavored English. As the sun set we still had a few miles to go, when the gas tank reserve light came on, adding just a little more excitement to the trip…no gas stations on this part of the coast! We finally made it out of the mountains and found a gas station, then drove through Castries and on up to Rodney Bay. We stopped off at an Indian restaurant in the touristy/hotel part of town, and had a pretty tasty dinner.
The next day we dragged the sewing machine out and Emmy repaired the sail cover, bimini and restitched and reinforced the outboard sling (remember that?), while I scrubbed the bottom of the boat and worked on items on our list. All the while we monitored the weather, and after a few days things looked good for our departure to Martinque, so we got ready to go.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to all you wonderful souls who share a birthday with me.
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
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
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!
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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.