The Belle of Virginia in the Caribbean 2004-2005
The Log of The Belle of Virginia
Eastern Caribbean, 2004-05
11/5/04-Waiting in Hampton
The Belle, with Blaine, J.D. and Hudson aboard, shoved off at 0630 Wednesday morning, just at dawn. Our wives were there to give us a send-off from our dock in Tabbs Creek. Charles will meet us in Hampton later. Winds were light as we motored out of the creek, but were forecast to build out of the north during the day. We motored out to Windmill point, where the breeze began to fill in. By Stingray Point, we were sailing in 10-15 Kts. An hour later, we were seeing 20-25 Kts from the north, and cooking along at 7+ Kts. The miles clicked off at those speeds, and we arrived at the entrance to the Hampton River at 1400, well ahead of schedule. After fueling up, were snug in our slip at Bluewater Yachting Center by 1500. Most of the 44 sailboats in the Caribbean 1500 fleet were already there.
Today is Friday, and we've been to several briefing sessions, made an expedition to West Marine for yet more supplies, and are preparing for our boat safety inspection, all the while keeping an anxious eye on the weather forecasts. We got the word at our morning briefing today that our departure will be delayed until at least next Tuesday, or most likely, Wednesday, due to forecasts for 40 Kt NE winds in the Gulf Stream and a large low pressure area with uncertain intents located near Haiti. Oh well, more time to work on boat projects.
11/7/04-Still Waiting in Hampton
The latest weather forecast calls for strong northerly winds in the Gulf Stream on Monday and strong winds in the Atlantic along our route. Our departure has been further delayed until Wednesday at the earliest. With several days to wait, Blaine and J.D. headed for home on Friday, and Lynne and Suki joined me on the boat. Good chance to get some boat projects done and a little shopping for the trip.
11/10/04-Underway At Last
We finally got underway today. What a relief! The day dawned brisk and clear, with a light wind out of the east. After picking up a final weather forecast and topping up the water tank, we left Bluewater at 0930 and sailed out to the Rally start area, near Thimble Shoals. It turns out we're the smallest boat in the fleet, but we're feisty. We got off to a good start, mixing it up with the big boys, and were first across the line. Felt like a mouse in a herd of elephants. Ten minutes later, we rolled in the foresails and motorsailed through the Bridge Tunnel with the 10-12 Kt wind on our nose, watching the 50 and 60 footers pull away. Right now it's 1445, and we're rounding Cape Henry. The guys are rolling out the foresails. Looks like we'll be able to sail our course to the Gulf Stream, which we expect to enter tomorrow morning about 0800. Had a nice lunch--all is well.
11/12/04-Motor-sailing
We’ve been motor-sailing into 10-12 Kt SE winds for almost two days now, but the breeze is finally clocking a bit south, so we’ve figured out that we can make as much distance toward Tortola tacking under sail as motor-sailing into the wind. What a relief to shut down the engine! The Gulf Stream was a non-event; lumpy waves, but nothing to write home about. We’re bucking a 1.0 Kt current from an eddy, so progress is slow. The long-awaited cold front is scheduled to pass over us tomorrow night, with strong winds from the north.
11/15/04-Surfing at Hull Speed
The winds improved Friday night, clocking to the SSW and building to 25-35 Kts. Saturday saw 20 Kts all day. Great sailing! The front finally came through Saturday night about 9pm, preceded by a couple of squalls. The wind piped up to 30-35 Kts, with gusts in the 40s, and clocked rapidly to the NNE. Sunday was a challenge with 35 Kt winds and seas building to 20-24 feet. “The Belle” loves it, surfing at up to 11 Kts. The bimini and side curtains have kept us dry and warm during the bad weather. We’re knocking off the miles and seem to be holding our own with the bigger boats. Thank goodness for Lynne’s vacuum-sealed frozen dinners. We pop them in a pot of hot water and ladle up dinner when hot—no prep and little clean-up. We’re feasting like kings!
11/17/04-Fishing
We’ve been trailing a lure since the weather has settled down. Tuesday we hooked a billfish, maybe four feet long. When he saw the boat, he leaped up and threw the hook. Looked like a blue marlin, so I’m just as glad he got away. Today was a great fishing day—two 30”dolphins and one about 40”. Mahi-mahi for dinner!
11/19/04-What a sail!
We picked up the tradewinds yesterday. The wind has settled into the NE at 16-22 Kts. For the last three days we’ve been sailing at hull speed most of the time, with reefed main and genoa, and full staysail. We flew the spinnaker for a while on Thursday—beautiful! We’ve only burned about 40 gallons of diesel, and have 75 gallons left. We’re ahead of several boats and seem to be doing pretty well versus the fleet. We’re guessing we’ll finish third in class and beat a few boats in the faster classes as well.
11/21/04-Finished!
We crossed the finish line at 0910 Saturday morning, with J.D., our rookie ocean sailor, at the wheel! Nine days, 20 hours and ten minutes elapsed time. That’s a day sooner than the best I expected we’d do. The banquet was held Saturday night, and awards given out. We almost fell off our chairs when Steve Black announced “The Belle of Virginia” as First in Class and seventh in the rally fleet of 23 boats! Who said Island Packets were slow?!!! Steve said some of the earlier finishers had tears in their eyes when we pulled into the marina, knowing we had done so much better than our handicap. Any hours motoring are added to the elapsed time, and we had less than a lot of the boats. The crew was ecstatic and celebrated appropriately with cigars and rum in the cockpit after dinner. The boat handled the passage spectacularly. Nothing serious broke and we stayed dry and comfortable. I’d sail her anywhere after this. Right now we’re headed for Charlotte Amalie to drop off Blaine, Charles and J.D. for their flight home tomorrow. Lynne will arrive tomorrow afternoon—can’t wait to see her.
1st place in class: Caribbean 1500
L to R: Blaine Liner, Hudson Hoen, J.D. Willett, Charles Springett
11/25/04-A Different Thanksgiving
It’s Thanksgiving Day, and we’re anchored all by ourselves in a little cove in Round Bay on St. John. A rainy squall came through last night and washed all the salt off the boat, but today is dawning sunny and nice. Sure do miss that East Coast November weather (NOT)! We’re fresh out of turkey, so we’ll have Mahi Mahi for Thanksgiving dinner today—maybe beginning a new tradition. Lynne arrived late Tuesday afternoon, right on schedule, but a little worse for the wear. She doesn’t like airplanes. Suki, our cat, is feeling hijacked, but she’ll get over it. Wednesday, we bought a few provisions at the over-priced gourmet grocery store at Crown Bay Marina and headed out. The marina is in the middle of a merchant shipyard and industrial area, and “The Belle” was constantly covered with dust and grit that blew in. We were glad to escape the dirt and constant noise, and enjoyed a pleasant four and a half hour sail to the eastern peninsula of St. John. Peace and quiet at last! Lynne needs a day or two at anchor to unwind, so we’ll probably relax here for a couple of days, then on to Virgin Gorda. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
11/28/04-Virgin Gorda
After a couple of relaxed days at anchor on St. John, we set out for Spanishtown, Virgin Gorda, tacking upwind in about 16-18 Kts. A few showers on the way washed down the boat. Came in to Spanishtown through a fleet of Moorings charter boats jockeying for pre-start position in a regatta. Hairy bunch! Wee anchored next to the "Hannah Lee", a long-line fishing boat. Was that one of the players in "The Perfect Storm"? I can't recall. Had a nice dinner at Chez Bamboo, one of our favorites.
Boy are we on "island time". Didn't weigh anchor until 1100 Saturday morning. Then off to Drakes Anchorage in North Sound on VG. Two long tacks, and we're in through Colquohon Reef. Pretty spot; we always enjoy North Sound. I'm making preps today to sail down-island. With the ENE wind, it will be a long motor sail to make St. Martin, but I figure we could just make Saba, sailing close hauled. Much preferring sailing to motoring, we'll head out at 1600 and sail overnight to Ladder Bay on Saba. Should arrive just at dawn or a bit later. Then we'll have the option of spending a couple of days there, or continuing on a starboard tack up to Simpson Bay, St. Martin, which will depend on how tired I am. Most of the other Caribbean 1500 boats are hanging around the BVI, with about eight of them here in North Sound. We still maintain the 0730 morning chat on the single sideband. Many have plans to head down-island, so we'll probably bump into a few on our way.
Departing Virgin Gorda
11/30/04-Night Sailing to Saba
Sunday afternoon at 1600, we motored out of North Sound, bound for Saba. We motor-sailed through the Necker Island cut and got a look at “The Place” for the rich and famous. Once past Pajaro Point, Virgin Gorda’s eastern extremity, we bore off to a close reach for Saba, watching the sun set behind us. The wind was 10-14 Kts, so we had all sails drawing, and were making about 6-6.5 Kts. An hour later the one-day-past-full moon rose forward of our starboard beam in clear skies—a beautiful sight.
What a great feeling it is to sail at night under perfect conditions! The boat was handling like a dream, sails balanced and sliding smooth as silk over 4-6 foot swells. Watching the swells march one after another toward me down the moon’s silvery reflection was mesmerizing. I couldn’t afford to daydream, though. There was quite a bit of traffic out there. All told, I saw two sailboats, six merchant vessels and two cruise ships that night. One of the cruise ships passed within a half mile, crossing my bow, and never did acknowledge my radio calls. I didn’t have any problem staying awake, having made a thermos of coffee before departing. Suki even came up to keep me company for a while. The wind eased off around midnight, but came back stronger at 0100. We were making hull speed, 7.5 Kts, in 16-18 Kts of wind. The vinyl side curtains kept the spray out of the cockpit, making it a very comfortable ride. Don’t tell my Caribbean 1500 crew, but I even used the autopilot for a few hours.
By 0400, I could see the flashing beacon on top of Saba’s mountain, and enjoyed the sight of the sun rising over the island as we approached. By 0730, we were on a mooring and settled in. I had a hard boiled egg and a beer for breakfast and turned in for a couple hours of sleep.
About 1000, we dinghied in to Fort Bay, cleared in with Customs and caught a taxi up to the little town of Windwardside. It was about four miles of steep, winding road through increasingly lush vegetation, with one spectacular view after another presenting itself. We passed through The Bottom, on of the four towns, and then could look back on it’s rooftops as we climbed to about 1700 feet elevation. In Windwardside, the air was cool and crisp—very refreshing. The buildings are all painted white, with red roofs and green trim. There’s gingerbread trim on most of them. The people are exceptionally friendly and polite. When it came time to find a taxi back to the dinghy, we weren’t able to call for one—all the phones on the island were down. We stood out on the main road to flag one down for almost an hour without success. There was a local gentleman standing nearby, greeting just about everyone who passed. I commented on the lack of taxis to him, and we struck up a conversation. About five minutes later, he flagged down a friend and asked her to drive us down to Bottom, which she did. The remaining mile and a half walk down to Fort Bay was a bear—very steep, and hard on Lynne’s back, but we made it OK. After a rather rolling night on the mooring, we set sail on Tuesday, 11/30 for Simpson Bay, St Martin. Go to Saba if you get the opportunity—it’s a really unique experience.
12/2/04-St. Martin
We had a nice 28 mile sail over to St. Martin, and anchored in Simpson Bay, on the Dutch side. Clearing in was easy, and we found a nice restaurant for lunch. We’ve developed a new procedure—we have a nice lunch in a good restaurant and then head back to the boat for a swim, cocktails and dinner. It avoids a dinghy ride back after dark, and we’re tucked in bed by 8 pm. Perfect!
The Simpson Bay/Lagoon area of St. Martin is, in a word, tacky. There are some good restaurants, but it’s simply tacky. It does, however, have a couple of really good chandleries for boat purchases, and we grabbed a taxi to Le Grande Marche super market where we filled up a couple of carts with groceries. On Thursday, we sailed down to Philipsburg (only an hour away) and bought some water and diesel fuel at Bobby’s Marina. Once anchored in the bay, we dinghied in, had a great lunch of broiled lamb chops (Lynne) and broiled red snapper in a creole sauce (me). Yum! Then off to the shops. Lynne now has here Christmas/Birthday/Mothers’ Day present—a very elegant gold watch. And an Irish linen tablecloth. I got some rhum. Philipsburg is a large step above Simpson Bay, but still too touristy for us. We’ll set out for St. Kitts tomorrow morning.
12/10/04-St. Kitts and Nevis
On Friday, December 3rd, we left St. Martin and had a grand sail from Philipsburg to St. Kitts—37 miles reaching in 16-20 Kt easterlies over smooth seas—glorious! We dropped anchor in Basseterre harbour near the deepwater port at sundown and called customs on the VHF. The customs agent said to, “come over by de tugboat and den come back ‘round heah.” I got in the dinghy and made my way over to the tug. There was no dinghy dock, so I tied up to a concrete seawall and scrambled up. After an eerie walk across a dark freight yard populated by slinking curs, I found the customs office. She was able to clear me through customs, but the Marine Department guy was AWOL, so I was told to come back tomorrow, plus I’d have to take a cab to the airport to clear in through immigration. And Chris Doyle’s “Leeward Islands” guidebook says the new customs/immigrations procedures in St. Kitts are much more cruiser-friendly than the old ones!
Rawlins Plantation, St. Kitts
On Saturday, we dinghied over to the marina and walked up to The Circus in the center of Basseterre. We were quickly adopted by Zachariah Davis, taxi driver extraordinaire, and promptly driven to the port and the airport to finish clearing in. Then we were off for a tour of the island, with Zachariah providing commentary and making some suggestions for our stops. Romney Manor is a beautiful garden with huge old trees, stone walls and many different types of flowering plants and shrubs. The manor house burned down years ago, and Caribelle Batik built batik dying facilities on the foundations. Next stop was Brimstone Hill, a series of British fortifications. The views were outstanding. Off again, we rounded the northwestern tip of the island and drove up an ancient cart path through sugar cane fields to Rawlins Plantation, our lunch destination. Talk about colonial elegance! Those colonialists had it pretty good. We enjoyed a drink on the veranda before savoring a very tasty buffet of West Indian dishes, impeccably served by an extremely competent staff of local ladies. After lunch, we walked around the manicured grounds, which are planted with many tropical trees, shrubs and flowers. The remainder of our tour was along the windward coast, stopping at a spot where lava from the volcano that formed the island poured into the sea. Zachariah pointed out a narrow gauge railway that completely circles the island, and is still used to transport cut cane to the sugar mill. We were back in Basseterre by mid-afternoon. We were both surprised at how poor St. Kitts seemed, evidenced by the mostly shabby and ill-kept homes. There seemed to be only two areas of what you’d describe as nicer homes. It seemed that tourism and foreign investment in vacation property hadn’t had much of an effect on the sugar cane economy.
Basseterre harbour is not the most picturesque in the world, so on Sunday we sailed a few miles down-island to Battten Bay. We had a “down-day” there all by ourselves, with not even a shack on the shore in view. Very relaxing and time to catch up on some boat projects. Monday, we were back in Basseterre for a walk around the old city, stopping in shops and galleries. We checked e-mail in an Internet shop located in the stone-walled basement of a building that must have been hundreds of years old. It still had old timber rails running down the stairs for rolling barrels of rum up and down. The contrast of the computers in the low-ceilinged room was interesting.
We were back on the boat by 1330, in time to set sail for Nevis, only about 12 miles away. I had just set the anchor in Tamarind Bay, when the Port Authority police boat pulled up, lights flashing. Oh-oh! St. Kitts and Nevis are one country, but it seems that Nevis has an independent streak. Clearing in and out of St. Kitts doesn’t cut the mustard in Nevis. However, after examining our papers and some smoozing by yours truly, we were told that we had permission to spend the night there. The next morning we motored down to Charlestown. Stepping onto the dinghy dock, I was greeted by Nicolas, a taxi driver with an enterprising nature. He walked me over to customs, and we agreed to meet the next day for a tour of Nevis. That afternoon, Lynne and I walked the town, which we found much more attractive than Basseterre. People were friendly and greeted you on the street.
That afternoon, we moved up to Pinneys Beach, a magnificent three mile stretch of sand, fringed by tall coconut palms. We hauled the dinghy up on the beach for a swim, followed by a cold one (or two) at Sunshine’s, a lively beach bar that was nothing more than a shack with picnic tables set under palm frond canopies. Their music was good and the beer cold, so we came back for a dinner of barbecued ribs and entertainment—watching the locals have a grand time whooping it up and dancing.
Wednesday, we met Nicolas at 0930 and drove up the flanks of Mt. Nevis. Montpelier was a fascinating inn, formerly a colonial mansion with outbuildings. The architecture was of massive cut stone and large windows; very cool and comfortable. The grounds were beautiful. Next was the Nevis Botanical Garden, several acres of specimen plantings, many from Asia and the south Pacific. The setting was gorgeous, with a conservatory, statuary, ponds and fountains and elegant stone walls, kind of like a small, tropical Longwood Gardens. The next stop was an inn set on the ruins of an old sugar mill, with much of the original equipment still evident. On our way to our lunch destination (that’s always the first thing we map out), we stopped at The Hermitage, a beautifully restored collection of stone and wood buildings that are a rare example of the original architecture of the island. It is operated as an inn, and would be a fantastic spot to get away from it all. At Golden Rock Plantation, we were served a delicious lunch in a lovely garden, overlooking the islands of Antigua, Redondo and Montserrat. We were high enough that we were looking down at isolated rain squalls drifting across the Caribbean. Nevis is worth a stop, but we’d skip St. Kitts next time.
That evening we had cocktails with fellow Caribbean 1500 participants Julie and Rick Palm on “Altair”, a Saga 48. Julie and Rick live in Easton, MD and keep their boat in Oxford—nice couple and nice boat. Then early to bed in preparation for a hard 12 hour sail to Guadeloupe.
12/14/04-Guadeloupe and Les Isles des Saintes
Bienvenue en les Antilles Francais. We arrived in Dashaies, Guadeloupe, at 1600, exactly 12 hours after departing Pinneys Beach, Nevis. We had raised anchor in Nevis at 0400. My plan was to sail hard on the wind past Redondo and Montserrat, keeping Montserrat to starboard. The volcano is still active, and we’d risk getting covered with ash if we sailed past its leeward side. It was pitch black dark for the first couple of hours of the passage, and the radar was essential for avoiding other boats—most folks don’t use anchor lights down here. We rounded Dogwood Point, on the south end of Nevis, and were met by 18-24 Kt winds and large, lumpy waves as we came out of the lee of the island. I had the main well reefed and no headsails up, so we motor-sailed into it without too much problem, although it was pretty bouncy, with spray coming over the bimini top. As the sun rose, I rolled out the staysail. We were moving along at 6-7 Kts, still assisted by the engine, since we were pinching pretty hard into the wind. We passed Redondo at 0800, on its leeward side. It’s a vertical lump of rock, maybe ¾ of a mile across, with a single shack on its steep southern slope. At 1000, we left Montserrat, the halfway point in our passage, to starboard, and bore off toward Guadeloupe. We were sailing on a reach now, the point of sail “The Belle” loves best, and she showed it by plunging over the 6-8 foot swells at 7-1/2 Kts, with reefed main and genoa, and full staysail in 20-24 Kts of wind. Six hours later we slipped into the picturesque harbor of Dashaies.
Lynne strolls: Les Isles des Saintes
The next morning (Friday, December 10th), I went ashore while Lynne did her daily exercises. The Customs office was closed, and a sign said to clear in Basseterre or Pointe-a-Pitre. No problem, Mon. I went back and collected Lynne and we had lunch at La Mouillage, a little restaurant by the dinghy dock. No one speaks English here, and my French, such as it is, is the result of six weeks of “Exploratory Languages” in the seventh grade. No problem, Mon! I jabbered away, ordering poulet grille, pomme frite and salade verte for me, the chicken, no fries and double salad for Lynne. We both got grilled chicken, a huge mound of fries, and a little lettuce topped with a couple of slices of tomato. Oh well, I did get the beer order right.
We decided to move on, and motorsailed down the coast to an anchorage off the Marina Riviere Sens, just south of Guadeloupe’s second largest city, Basseterre, arriving just at sunset. I dinghied in the next morning, found the Customs office closed, bought a few things at the 8-a-Huit, the French version of Seven-Eleven, and went back to the boat. Then we were off to Les Isles des Saintes, a 12 mile romp in lumpy seas and 20 Kt winds.
Island Market
Les Saintes are a beautiful group of very small islands, with very picturesque buildings and friendly people. Their heritage, reflected in the architecture and the style of their boats, is of Brittany. Their anchorages are challenging—my Delta anchor had a batting average of only 500 in attempts to get it to set. Ashore, we were able to find the Customs office open and cleared in with no problems. We strolled the narrow streets, stopping in various shops and taking in the sights. Our friends, Julie and Rick Palm sailed in the next day, and we enjoyed sundowners on “The Belle”, swapping impressions of the places we’d visited. The next day we put in some time on boat projects, Lynne teak oiling down below and me stripping down, cleaning and lubricating the anchor windlass. Otherwise, it was a time to relax, swim, and enjoy being lazy in the warm sun. A young Boston couple with two daughters on a Tartan 40 anchored nearby, and we chatted with them. They were cruising north, and told us about their experience on Dominica. Their tour guide on the island had been Martin Carriere, and they recommended him highly. We agreed with the Palms to join forces and tour the island together, with Martin as our guide. On Tuesday, December 14th, we departed for Dominica, 20 miles south.
12/19/04- Dominica
Dominica came into view, and we could see rain squalls drenching various parts of the mountainous island, slowly moving from east to west. As we arrived in the anchorage north of Portsmouth, a young man in a skiff pulled alongside and welcomed us to Dominica. It was Martin, who had already met with the Palms and agreed to be our guide on the island. We spent most of the next four days with Julie, Rick and Martin, first on a tour of the Indian River (Martin rowed—no motors allowed) where we saw many native birds and plants, then a tour of the upcountry plantations and the magnificent, virgin rain forest, then the Carib Indian reservation and coastal communities of the windward side of the island, and finally the capitol city, Roseau, and the towns on the western coast.
The island is ruggedly mountainous and lush with vegetation, thanks to the heavy rainfall of up to 350” per year. After each day's adventure into the rain forests exploring rivers and waterfalls, we came home laden with grapefruit, oranges, bananas, nutmeg, ginger, thyme, allspice, papaya, avocados, cinnamon, and glorious tropical flowers, all picked by Martin from plants in the wild. There were poinsettia trees as big as dogwoods, hillsides covered with antheriums and birds of paradise, and orchids, bromeliads and ferns cascading down 100 foot trees. And the birds--two species of parrots found only on Dominica, four species of hummingbirds, bananaquits, kingbirds, herons, egrets, and kingfishers.
Lynne and Martin in Dominica
In the Carib Indian reservation, an Indian couple, friends of Martin, showed us herbal medicines that are used by the natives to treat all sorts of ailments, all growing in their backyard. They generously loaded us down with fresh fruit and spices from their garden as we left. Dominicans live a healthy lifestyle. Their work is physically demanding, they eat healthy, naturally grown food, and the air and water is unpolluted. The island has more centenarians per capita than anywhere else in the world. We saw only one person smoking and obesity is rare.
Like many of the islands in this part of the Caribbean, Dominica bounced back and forth between French and British ownership before gaining its independence from the latter in the late 1970's. As a result, the languages are English (the official language) and Creole (the street language) and the culture is an interesting mix of both combined with a Caribbean flair. Martin tried unsuccessfully to teach us some of the Creole patois.
Our anchorage was very pleasant. We enjoyed the cooling breezes sweeping down from the rain forest and the occasional brief shower to wash off the boat. We saw our first double rainbow, and both saw the proverbial “green flash” just at the instant that the disk of the sun dropped below the horizon. A week or so before we arrived, Dominica and The Saintes had experienced an earthquake. All the children on Dominica were enjoying an extended Christmas break, due to damage to the schools. We felt mild aftershocks on a couple of occasions.
We strolled the streets of Portsmouth, enjoying the friendly smiles and greetings of the residents, and found the Paradise Café, recommended to us by Martin as a place to sample local dishes. The food here is very tasty--an intriguing combination of curries, coconut milk, and spices with chicken or fish, surrounded by "provisions." Provisions are a variety of side dishes like papayas, white yams, dasheen, sweet potatoes, and plantains. With the exception of an uninspired lettuce salad, greens are not to be found.
Unlike most of the other islands we’ve visited, where five star hotels, cruise ship attractions, and commercial ventures have proliferated, Dominica is essentially undeveloped, and is solely reliant on agriculture (bananas are the number one crop; the UK is the number one market for them) and eco-tourism. It's a third-world paradise of Nature, where the people like our friend Martin and his family struggle hard to earn a living, preserve their environment, and try to improve the country of which they are very proud. Martin is a very hard-working young man who takes his job very seriously, as a professional would. He showed me a brochure he had drafted that he hopes will get him some business from the Antigua Boat Show next December. His problem, he explained, was that there was no one on the island who could do the graphics arts work to lay out and compose the piece. I volunteered to help him out, since I have the software on my laptop. That gives me a good excuse to stop in Dominica again on our way back north in March!
When we left to sail the 70 miles to Martinique, it was like sailing through a century or two from the slow-paced agrarian life to major cosmopolitan hustle-bustle. We had one final gift from Dominica’s bounty. Just south of Scott’s Head, the southernmost point of the island, I landed a 4’ Dorado (Mahi Mahi).
12/22/04-Martinique
Martinique’s northern shore is rugged and steep, its slopes forming the shoulders of Mount Pele, the volcano that destroyed the town of St. Pierre in 1902, killing all but two of its 30,000 residents. We had planned to anchor in the harbor at St. Pierre, but we had made good time coming down from Dominica, so we kept going. The anchorage looked very rolly and uncomfortable, so we didn’t feel bad about missing it. We crossed the Baie de Fort de France in a heavy rain squall, which lifted just as we entered Anse a L’Ane, the sun setting just as we dropped anchor.
Anse a L’Ane is a small, quiet cove across the Baie from Fort de France, away from the hustle and bustle. Lynne and I had vacationed here in a small hotel on the beach with young Hudson and Allison in 1989. We would sit on the balcony of our rooms, looking out on the cove at the handful of sailboats anchored there. They would spend a night or two and then move on, replaced by others. I remember saying to Lynne, “What a life that would be, sailing from one beautiful anchorage to another, going wherever you pleased, staying as long as you wanted.” That thought stayed in the back of my head as a dream, one I never thought would be realized. But there we were 15 years later, back in Anse a L’Ane, floating at anchor on our sailboat, not onshore in the hotel. I sat in the cockpit that night, looking at the lights on shore, reflecting on what it had taken to finally get to this point. Dreams can come true.
1/2/05-St. Lucia This account is from Lynne’s journal.
Christmas Day, Saturday, December 25th. Merry Christmas! With the warm weather and the decorations it’s hard to remember its Christmas. Young Hudson and Kris come in this evening and I’m really looking forward to their visit. Bill Langlois and Carol Cutshall from “Hope” stopped by for a surprise visit before dinner last night, and I really enjoyed talking with them. It’s interesting to hear each person’s story as to how they came to be doing this sort of adventure.
Life in the marina here at Rodney Bay is quite different from anchoring out. There is a tradeoff in privacy and view for the luxury of not having to deal with water and electricity. If I were to do any more major liveaboard in these kinds of places, I would get a watermaker and solar or wind generator. That would take the pressure off for me—I do tend to fret a bout water and electricity. Hudson is much more relaxed about these things than I am. Speaking of Hudson—he has cleverly figured out a way to use the newly purchased boarding ladder on the dinghy so that we can anchor the dinghy, take a swim, and then get back in. This is great because pulling the dinghy up on a beach is not easy, and sometimes there are too many waves to be able to do it.
Since it’s been a full month now since we began the trip (hard to believe!), I’ve decided to make the majority of this entry be a reflection of what I like and what I don’t like so far. I think that it will be interesting to do this periodically to see how I’m adapting to this new way of life.
Things I Especially Like:
The constant warm temperature
The sparkling water
The lumpy mountains in shades of blue and green
The breezes
Sleeping at night with a sheet at most
The slow pace—deciding what to do as you go
Going to the market
Meeting other cruisers and sharing experiences
Touring the islands—each on is different
Doing my water aerobics with a gorgeous view
Spending a lot of quality time with Hudson
Eating the local foods
Cooking with the local produce—actually enjoying Hudson’s cooking with the local produce
Seeing Hudson’s grin of enjoyment
Things I Don’t Especially Like:
Sometimes the boat seems mighty small and cluttered’
Worrying about water and electricity
Having a hard time communicating with people back home
Worrying about the refrigerator temperature
Suki not being happy
The long passages that keep me immobile for too long
French speaking islands
Things That I Thought I Wouldn’t Like But it’s Not the Case:
Not having enough things to do—HA! There’s tons to do
Not knowing anyone—you meet people as you go
December 30th-Thursday
We have been in St. Lucia for over a week now, spending six nights in the Rodney Bay Marina. It was nice not to worry about water and electric. The payback was having to dinghy to where the water was clean enough to swim. I was surprised that I missed the gentle motion of the boat at anchor.
Souffriere, St. Lucia Sundown
Renting a car was great for the grocery shopping, but as far as island touring is concerned, the lesson learned is to hire a taxi with a good driver. St. Lucia has no road signs and the maps are less than helpful. Hudson had Kris and me moaning in the back seat while driving what we called “The Road of Death”. We were driving in the mountains trying to find a hiking trail to a waterfall in the Rain Forest. The road went from two lanes to one and a half lanes to one lane, with a sheer drop-off on one side and a deep ditch on the other. We never did find the trail.
We were able to buy a large quantity of meats to stock the freezer before heading further south. The freezer and the refrigerator are so packed it’s worth your life to try to get anything out. We must have gone to six different grocery stores to find all the things on our shopping list. It’s like a treasure hunt—you never know what you might find where. Another lesson has been, don’t make the assumption that if you see something at one store it will be available elsewhere, or even there if you come back later. Strike while the iron is hot!
Anse Chastanet is a really nice beach. We started up the “Road of Death, Part II”, a two mile trip to the beach from Souffriere, and wimped out. A local guy named Terry hooked us up with a water taxi over and back, a much safer way to get there.
Yesterday we left the marina and sailed down to Marigot Bay and anchored for the night. It is a beautiful little bay with palm trees on a white sand beach. We’re told that it was James Michenor’s favorite place in the islands. Today we sailed to Souffriere and picked up a mooring at the Bat Cave Moorings. Hundreds of bats live in a large crack in the rock cliff, not 25 yards from our boat. We can hear them squeaking in there. The water is crystal clear here, and there is spectacular snorkeling right by our boat in a flower garden of corals, sponges, fans and lots of colorful fish. We bought some produce from a Rasta man who came by in a brightly painted skiff, and enjoyed talking with him. Contrary to what some others have told us, the “boat boys” have not been a problem at all for us, and have been quite helpful and friendly.
Kris is holding her own by way of Dramamine. The kids are off exploring in the dinghy while Hudson and I relax on the boat. It’s been fun having the company of the kids, but his is a small boat for four people. We’ve made plans to have dinner with Julie and Rick Palm tomorrow night for New Year’s Eve.
St. Vincent and the Grenadines-Bequia
(St. Vincent and the Grenadines is a country made up of St. Vincent and several smaller islands, notably Bequia, Mustique, Mayreau, Canaoun, Union and the Tobago Cays.)
We said goodbye to Kris in Souffriere on January 2nd. She caught a taxi to the airport to fly home to her teaching job. Young Hudson, Lynne and I left the next morning for Bequia, about 55 NM south. Sailing through showers past the Pitons, we could smell the sulfurous gasses from the volcanic outlets. We got a good look at St. Vincent’s steep sides as we sailed past its leeward shore. It’s so steep, the farmers have to cut terraces into its slopes to plant their crops. We dropped anchor in Admiralty Bay, near Port Elizabeth, Bequia.
We enjoyed our son’s visit for the next few days. He did a couple of SCUBA dives with a dive shop, and we did some exploring together on shore. We sailed around to the nearby tiny island of Petit Nevis, where we snorkeled and explored the old whale rendering facilities on shore. By international treaty, Bequia is allowed to take four whales per year, but almost never does. The last whale was caught two years ago. The Bequians hunt whales the old-fashioned way, in small boats with hand-thrown harpoons. We spent a quiet night in Bequia’s Friendship Bay, and then headed north to St. Vincent to put Hudson on a commuter flight back to St. Lucia to catch his flight home.
The Bequians are an interesting people. Descendants of early Scotch and English settlers, New England and European whalers, and the odd French freebooter, a large percentage of the locals’ physical features are distinctly different from other Caribbean islanders—much more Caucasian in nature. They are a very friendly and laid back group, on the whole. They have a heritage of wooden boat-building, and a number of men today build extremely detailed and intricate wooden models of the whaling boats that were used in the old days.
Admiralty Bay, Bequia
On our first visit to the local produce market, we experienced the opposite of laid back. We were set upon by eight or ten of the most enthusiastic salesmen I’ve ever met—Rasta men from St. Vincent, who come over on the ferry to sell their produce on Bequia. Each was extolling the virtues of his particular avocados or grapefruits, crowding around us and holding them up for inspection. They called out, “Hey, Momma, come see my bananas. Dad! Look at these mangoes. I de mango man!” We ended up satisfying them by buying something from almost everyone, filling our canvas boat bag to capacity. Only three women and one young man were left out, and we promised to buy from them next time. As we left, one of the Rasta men called out, “Respect! I respect you, Mon!”, and gave me the local “handshake”, touching his closed fist to mine, knuckles to knuckles.
A few days later on a Sunday, we went back, and the Rastas were off somewhere else. We chatted with Jimmy, the young man we missed last time, and found out that he is a Bequia native. He introduced us to the three women vendors, who were also Bequians. They all had been very non-aggressive salespersons on that first visit, waiting for us to come to them, being upstaged by the Rastas. Now we know why—the Bequians are very laid back, the opposite of the “Vincy” Rastas. We’ve had a chance to get to know them over several days—Joan, Sistah, Princess Margaret, and Jimmy. They seem to genuinely enjoy the opportunity to chat with us, and throw in an extra yam, plantain or a few scotch bonnet peppers for free when we buy. Lynne has been getting tips on how to cook some of the root vegetables from Joan. Strangely, after that first visit, the Rasta men have let us shop at our leisure, with no interference. Rick and Julie experienced the Rastas, too. Rick’s comment was, “I used to run a sales operation. I would have killed for guys like that!”
We took a taxi tour of the island with the Palms—it took all of two hours, not including the 1 ½ hour lunch stop. It’s a very small island. The homes are more cared for than most of the other islands we’ve visited, and there are numerous upscale homes owned by foreigners. On the windward side, we visited the Old Hegg Turtle Sanctuary. Run by Bequia native, “Brother” King, a former fisherman, the sanctuary is home to hundreds of endangered hawksbill turtles, living in a variety of tanks until they are large enough to be released back into the ocean.
We celebrated our 60th birthdays by going out to dinner at one of the two top-rated restaurants in Port Elizabeth, the Auberge Des Grenadines. Lynne had steak in wine and mushroom sauce, and I had the special, fish in a Creole sauce. It was barracuda, and very tasty, much like mahi mahi. Although good, the restaurant wouldn’t get rave reviews back home.
We go in to the produce market for a few things. As we walk up, Margaret spots us. With a big grin on her face she says to Lynne, “Hello, Mom. How you todeh, Mom?”, holding her arms open for a big hug. She looks up at me with a shy smile and says, “Hi, Dad. How you todeh?” Jimmy is his ebullient self, chatting away about whatever comes to mind. We buy a few things from them and from Joan. Sistah is a little miffed. She says,” Don’t you want some ting from dis side?” I say, “Not today, Sistah. We’ll see you first when we come back next time.”
Canouan & Union Island
We had always intended to spend a couple of months in the Grenadines and Grenada. The only question in our minds was how it would be in Grenada after Ivan. Since we have two weeks in the Grenadines scheduled in February with our friend Claudia visiting, we decided to work our way down to Grenada, stopping on only a couple of the Grenadines along the way. We’ll make sure to spend more time on these gorgeous islands on our way back north.
All of the islands of the Grenadines are pretty close together. We made it from Bequia to Canouan in 3-½ hours, surfing down 6-8 foot waves on a broad reach. Lynne liked it—said it was one of our best sails yet. The anchorage at Canouan is turquoise blue with a beautiful white sand beach, but a bit rolly. The Moorings chartering operation has taken over most of the best part of it with moorings for their charter fleet. The northern third of the island was purchased by some Italians a few years ago. They began developing an exclusive, gated community with a casino and restaurant. Now Donald Trump owns it. Walking around ashore, we enjoyed some spectacular views of the reef-protected windward side from high on the backbone of the island. The swells surging into the anchorage were getting larger, so we set out the next day for Clifton Harbour on Union Island.
The sail to Union was a lazy broad reach in 10 kts past beautiful Saltwhistle Bay on Mayreau and tiny Palm Island. We rounded Newlands Reef and threaded our way into Clifton Harbour. The anchorage is small, with a long, protective reef on the windward side and another right in its middle. The anchorage was very full, but a big catamaran pulled out just as we arrived, so we eased up to the reef, dropped the hook and backed down. We learned that the boat behind us had been in Grenada during Ivan, and had survived unscathed. The couple aboard told us that things were slowly returning to normal on the island—encouraging news. At anchor, we can look out across the waves breaking on the outer reef all the way to the Tobago Cays, which we’ll be visiting on our way back north.
Clifton Harbour, Union Island
Union is one of the friendliest islands we’ve visited. Folks smile and say, “Hello”, on the street, and the vendors and shopkeepers are most welcoming. We enjoyed shopping for produce at several open-air stands in the center of town, making sure to buy a little from each of the ladies, engaging them in conversations about this or that. The anchorage is great—turquoise blue and surrounded by a protective reef on the windward side, so there’s always a nice breeze, and the sunrises are unobstructed. There’s a funky little Tiki bar on a pile of coral in the middle of Newlands Reef, blasting out it’s stereo to attract customers. Its mid afternoon, and several boaters have dinghied over. We hear the music and laughter well into the night. Tomorrow we’ll clear out of the Grenadines and enter Grenada.
Carriacou and Grenada
It was a very short and rainy sail from Union Island to Carriacou, which is part of Grenada. We anchored in Hillsborough Bay, and I dinghied in to the town dock to clear in through customs and immigration. What a depressing town it is—gray and weather-beaten. I was glad to get away and out of the large swells sweeping the bay, we motored around to Tyrell Bay on the southwestern side. I took a dinghy tour of the waterfront—a series of rum shops and “boutiques” in ramshackle buildings. We ended up going over to the Carriacou Yacht Club for a drink with the Palms and Peter, from “Eight Bells”, a J46 based in Maine. Peter and his wife, Carol, were planning to sail directly to Trinidad the next day, to be there for Carnival.
St. Georges, Grenada
Carriacou gets a pretty good write-up in the guide books, but there didn’t seem to be much to keep us here, so we left for Grenada early the next morning. Maybe we’ll give it another go on the way back. We sailed south in a light northerly to northwest breeze along Grenada’s windward coast. “Altair” arrived first, and checked out our intended destination, Prickly Bay. They reported back on the radio that it was crowded and rolly, so we threaded our way through a zigzag channel amid coral reefs into Hog Island Bay. It seemed ideal—calm, uncrowded with only a dozen or so boats at anchor, and totally undeveloped, surrounded on three sides by low hills. The only building evident was a small three-sided shack on a sandy beach.
Within five minutes of getting our anchor set, we were visited by John. He and his wife, Deb, are on “Sea Witch”, out of Annapolis, and have been in Grenada for three years. As John briefed us on the routines of “Hog”, as they call it, it became apparent that this was a close community of liveaboards. Here’s the drill, as he explained and we have now experienced it. Wednesday night everyone gathers at the shack on the beach for drinks and barbecued chicken if you want it, all supplied by Roger, a local entrepreneur. Roger roars up in his outboard about 5 pm, fires up his grill and sets up his bar. Bring plenty of Cutters for the no-see-ums. Lots of lively chatter going on. Roger has a Rastafarian hairdo, no shirt, and doesn’t say much, but he pours a mean drink. The rum is cheaper than the beer. We meet a lot of Hog’s residents, but have trouble with remembering the names and associated boats.
Friday we dinghy en masse over to Lower Woburn on Clarkes Court Bay, meet the van that John has pre-arranged, and are driven to De Big Fish, an open-air restaurant on Prickly Bay. A dozen of us enjoy drinks and dinner and yack it up around a long table on the deck overlooking the bay. Bruce and Sheena are Scots. Bruce is a character with a thick Scottish brogue, and keeps us laughing. Jim and Angelina start off a bit slow, but are pretty lively by the time dinner arrives. John and Deb seem to know everyone in the place. Anna chats for a while and then lapses into an unexplained silence, only to start up again a while later. Bill and Dinette (pronounced with a short “i”), are interesting. She chatters away at a mile a minute, giving us the benefit of their three years in Grenada in about 30 minutes of nonstop advice and tips. Bill says not a word. We manage to get in a question or two. Then Dinette buzzes off to chat with some folks at another table. Bill, a former Peace Corps teacher on Montserrat, turns out to be a very interesting person. In a quiet and deliberate way, he talks about his experiences during the volcanic eruptions on Montserrat, here on Grenada, and on the other islands that they’ve visited. Very informative and entertaining. Sunday is the last of the weekly program, the BIG barbecue night at Roger’s beach shack. It starts early—4 pm. The gathering is larger than Wednesday night—about two dozen folks from the anchorage, plus a few locals. A jam session starts up at one of the two wooden tables—three guys with guitars, a gal with a fiddle, a 75 year old Englishman with a penny whistle, and a local guy tapping crushed beer cans on the table top for rhythm. They play some pretty good music from the 60s. We chat and sip rum. Some folks have brought snacks to munch on. About 5:30 we amble over to the food. Roger has outdone himself—green salad, potato salad, a boiled pumpkin dish, barbecued chicken and cake for dessert. All for $15 EC (about $5.50 US). Most of the cruisers head back to their boats by 7 pm. The locals continue, singing and laughing until late. So goes the social life in “Hog”.
Thursday, we and the Palms went into St. George’s, Grenada’s capitol city, partly to sightsee and partly to shop for food. We dinghied in to a marina on Mt. Hartman Bay, just around the corner, and called a taxi. The drive in gave us some idea of the devastation that Ivan caused. Most of the roofs were patched or still in tatters, trees shredded, some buildings completely destroyed, and piles of debris everywhere. In St. George’s, most of the boats that had been driven ashore have been removed, but broken pilings showed the extent of the damage to the anchorage. Thankfully, most of the stores and other buildings downtown seemed to be operational. The waterfront in St. George’s is very picturesque, reminding us of photos we’ve seen of European towns, perhaps on the Mediterranean. We did a little shopping, catching a taxi to a large grocery store, and then back to the dinghy. The total cost of transportation, including a dinghy docking fee at the marina, was $90 EC (about $33 US). Hold that thought.
Saturday, we went back into town, but decided to do it the way the locals do. We dinghied over to Lower Woburn, tied up to the public dock, walked about a quarter mile up to the “main” road, and waited for the bus. The busses on Grenada are privately owned twelve-seater vans. The drivers do just that, roaring through the narrow streets at top speed, tooting their horn at pedestrians and other vehicles alike. A helper, usually a teenage boy, opens and shuts the sliding door, helps riders with their bags and packages, and collects the fee: $1.50 EC per person. Being unfamiliar with the routes, we ended up all they way up in St. George’s, when we wanted to stop at the Government Marketing Board produce shop about halfway in. No problem, Mon. The driver told us how to find a second shop a few blocks away. Getting back to Lower Woburn was an adventure, and Lynne describes it below. Suffice it for me to say that transportation costs for this trip was $23 EC (about $9 US). And we had more fun!
Here’s Lynne’s account of the shopping trip…
Today was the day we were kidnapped by a bus driver. We had spent yesterday touring the northern part of the island, a full day of driving and visiting several sites of interest. Today was to have been a simple trip to the local produce store to get some fruits and vegetables. We had been encouraged by the liveaboards in Hog to use the local bus system rather than taxis. So off we went with Rick and Julie to the closest bus stop in Lower Woburn, a town in the next bay east of us. The first part was easy—we waved down the route number 5 bus, a van crammed with locals, and squeezed our way in. The bus stops many times to drop off and pick up riders, and to deliver packages to people waiting at the side of the road. Our problem was that we got confused where to thump on the roof of the van to signal where we wanted to get off, and we missed our destination, which we were none too sure of to begin with. We ended up in St. George’s instead, but the driver gave us directions to a second produce shop nearby. Not daunted, we opted to take another bus (route number 1) from there to the large grocery store in Spiceland Mall, which we managed successfully. The driver recognized us. He had driven us from St. George’s to Spiceland a couple of days ago, charging the “special” taxi rate of $10 EC instead of the “bus” rate of $1.50 EC because he drove a quarter mile “off route” to the Mall.
Backpack filled with provisions, we walked back to the bus stop, looking for another number 1 bus back to St. George’s so we could catch a number 5 bus to Lower Woburn. This meant going five miles in the wrong direction to catch the Woburn bus. We flag down the next number 1 bus, and get on. Our driver is Marlin. There is one other passenger, plus the obligatory teenage helper. We ask Marlin to drop us at the best place to catch the number 5 bus to Lower Woburn. Before we know it, Marlin is in total control. First he convinces us with good logic to pay him just a little bit extra and he will take us to Lower Woburn, eliminating the need to change busses. Then he explains that he owns a restaurant with a miniature sized miniature golf course, and since its lunch time, we end up doing lunch. Before we can eat, however, Marlin pumps Rick and Hudson for advice on a malfunctioning water pump he has for his saltwater aquarium. We must also hear about the concept of this golf course. He calls it “golf-pool”. Players use the concrete and cinderblock walls around the 20’ x30’ course to carom golf balls around obstacles and into the holes, a combination of golf and billiards. He’s convinced that it will be a bit hit with the restaurant patrons.
The lunch menu is limited—he explains that he’s just building it back after the hurricane. We enjoy chicken rotis and fried chicken served by Linda, a gal with a broad smile. Marlin’s golf course is in poor condition due to Ivan. He is convinced that new grass will fix it up, and that he can get some at the local golf course. He announces that we need to see what his course will look like, so we go careening off in some unknown direction—we have no idea—twisting and rattling around the narrow, potholed roads, seeing vistas of parts of the island we haven’t traveled before. Finally we reach the Grenada Golf Course and get to inspect their greens. The greens are indeed nice, for the most part, and it is apparent that Marlin intends to swipe some of their grass. His assistant had boarded the bus with a machete when we left the restaurant. Now we know why. Hudson convinces Marlin that we can’t afford to stop and get out because our groceries are getting warm. We’re off again, with Marlin talking a mile a minute about his ideas and plans. Eventually we end up back at the dinghy in Lower Woburn. Marlin shoves advertising flyers into our hands. Live bands, standup comics, karaoke, and golf-pool. I wonder if he kidnaps lunch patrons every day.
Postscript to Hog Island Bay Social Life
I have to add a postscript to my description of the social regimen in Hog Island Bay. You’ll recall that it consists of Wednesday night drinks at Roger the Rasta’s beach shack, Friday night “out to eat at a restaurant” night, and drinks and BBQ chicken dinner at Roger’s on Sunday night. Well the other part is nude sunbathing and skinny dipping. John, on “Sea Witch”, is known as the Mayor of Hog. Well, the Mayor is a nudist. We’re about 50 yards away from Sea Witch. On our last day anchored in Hog, I, being slow on the uptake, noticed John lolling in a canvas folding chair on his aft deck, sans clothing, and remarked about it to Lynne. Lynne does her water aerobics tethered to the stern of our boat each afternoon.. Lynne said, “Oh yes, I get to see that vista every afternoon as I exercise. John and some of the others go skinny dipping, too.” Of course, the population of Hog, especially the Mayor, has been described by one recent visitor as “a bunch who has long since stretched out the elastic in their Speedos.”
Touring Grenada
Julie, Rick, Lynne and I spent two days touring the island, using Henry’s Safari mini-bus tour service. Our able guide and driver was Dexter, an engaging young man with a gift of gab, and a big smile. Dexter’s home had been destroyed by Ivan, and he was living with his brother until he could rebuild. His hopes were to begin reconstruction in April. His spirit is undaunted.
Dexter’s House after the Hurricane
Our first day was a tour of the northern half of the island. Leaving St. George’s we had a bird’s eye view of the hilly city, laid out in tiers in a semicircle around the waterfront of the Carenage. Heading north on the west coast highway, we passed the country’s major sports stadium. It’s spectator stands were a twisted ruin, completely destroyed by the hurricane. The highway hugs the coastline, winding through fishing villages with small boats at their moorings or pulled up on the beaches, nets piled high. There are few good harbors on this side of the island, and the one decent one has a rusty freighter aground on its banks and the island’s landfill at its head. We turned east and climbed up into the hills. Most of the homes had patched roofs or gaping holes open to the sky. The nutmeg plantations were a shambles, with trees knocked down and shattered. All the vegetation showed signs of damage with one exception—the vines have thrived. Taking advantage of the sunlight streaming through the stripped canopy, they have covered over the tree trunks and branches left standing, reminiscent of Cudzu. Lynne said the devastation reminded her of areas in California that had been wiped out by large scale forest fires.
We stopped to view a waterfall, and then moved on to an historic spice factory that had obviously been around for many, many decades. Inside a elderly woman showed us a number of spices grown on the island and explained how they were processed and used. The equipment used is primitive and highly labor intensive. Next came a nutmeg processing mill. Farmers bring their nutmeg crop to collecting stations that then feed the processing mills. Its basically a matter of drying the nutmegs, cracking the shell, grading the nuts, more drying, more grading and bagging. They then move on to be ground into nutmeg spice or pressed for oil. The mill is a beehive of activity with mostly matronly women sitting on stools with trays of nutmegs in front of them, picking and sorting them into burlap sacks.
We stopped for lunch at a stately plantation house perched high on a hill. The views and cool ocean breezes were delightful. An elegant gentlewoman greeted us with local fruit juices over ice. We sat down to a delicious West Indian buffet lunch in a huge dining room with large windows on three walls. Again, we were sad to see the devastated trees and shrubs on the hillsides below us. After lunch, we had a tour of the River Antoine rum factory. It is the oldest such facility still operating in the Caribbean, and it looks it. It began operation in 1785, and the equipment looks original, beginning with the water wheel driven cane press. The cane juice is boiled in ancient cast iron pots and then fermented in decrepit concrete vats. The resulting mash is distilled in a copper pot still with water cooled copper condensers. The result is a white rum that will blow off the top of your head—151 proof. The tour guide pours a tiny dram of rum in to a cup for each visitor and stands back to watch our expressions as we sip it. We didn’t buy any.
On the drive back to our dinghies, Dexter kept up a running commentary, pointing out things of interest, identifying the local vegetation for us and giving us a short history of Grenada. According to Dexter, when Maurice Bishop staged a bloodless coup in 1979, with popular support, and deposed the dictator Eric Gairy, he found the country’s treasury empty. Gairy had looted it. Bishop appealed to other countries for aid, including the US, which offered him $4,000. Bishop was less than impressed, and turned to the Soviet Union and Cuba for assistance in building a new international airport. The US-led intervention came when Bishop was assassinated by his cabinet ministers and the new government leaned even further to the left. I’ll bet the intervention cost a bit more than $4,000.
One of the highlights of the drive back was our experience in the town of Grenville’s Friday afternoon traffic jam. The narrow streets were teeming with adults and school children in their school uniforms on all sides, talking and socializing in the spaces between the cars and trucks. Vendors were selling their wares on every square inch of available space. One guy had an eight foot tall wooden rack mounted in the trunk of his car, from which he sold all manner of bras, panties and skimpy negligees. Another favorite was ears of field corn, roasted over charcoal.
We made the mistake of telling Dexter that we had to be back in Lower Woburn no later than 4 pm, so we could join the residents of Hog Island Bay for “Out to Dinner Night”. He was off, roaring through the streets of the little towns, beeping his horn at anything that moved. Up into the rain forest we went, careening around switchbacks that would give mountain goats pause. He pulled over to the side of the road in a cloud of dust, saying, “On my right you can see Grand Etang, a lake formed by volcanic action.” Then he was off again roaring down the mountain into St. George’s. Lynne called our driving experience on St. Lucia “The Road of Death”. She named this one “The Drive of Terror.” She says that if she lived and had to drive on one of these islands she’d have a live expectancy of one week, because she would die of a heart attack.
On our second day’s tour we focused on the southern part of the island, seeing Bay Gardens, a botanical garden that still had many interesting and beautiful plants, but suffered heavy damage in the hurricane. This part of the island was even more damaged than the north—Ivan’s eye passed right overhead. We drove through Dexter’s town and saw his demolished home. He was very quiet and somber for a while after passing through.
We had lunch at the La Sagesse Nature Preserve. The restaurant was right on a beautiful half-moon beach with palm and almond trees shading it. We stopped by two more rum factories and ended up buying some of their products, which were much more appealing than the high powered stuff. The tour included a swing through an exclusive, gated community called Westerhall Point. The hurricane didn’t spare the wealthy. Many of the beautiful homes suffered considerable damage, mostly to the roofs.
In spite of the devastated condition of the island, we’re glad we took the time to see it up close with a guide, and to meet some of its residents. We have developed a great deal of respect for the people here, who seem to have taken their misfortune in stride and are looking forward to better times. It will take a while, though. There’s a lot of work to be done, and money, skilled labor and building materials are in short supply. Their beautiful rain forest is another story. It will take decades for it to recover. Universally, the people we talked to about the rain forest had a profound sadness on their faces and in their voices when they spoke of it. They are obviously very connected with their land, and the damage it has suffered as affected them deeply.
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