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!

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.

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.

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

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…

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!”