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.

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!”

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!

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!

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.

Brian with our guide Alexis on our way up the Indian River in Dominica.