Sanders Bay,
Chacachacare Island, TTWI
10.41.325N
61.44.791W

Well, you can certainly tell we’re away from the dock. We were in bed shortly after dinner last night and then rose with the sun this morning. Sweating buckets the entire time.

We listened to the net from Chagauramas more out of habit than anything else but were surprised when the TTPost Office radioed several boat names saying that they had packages being held for them. One was for Gypsy. Since we were the only boat in Charauramas with Gypsy in its name, Dale took off in the dinghy back the way we had come. Sure enough, the antenna was there but addressed to Gary (on Rainbow Rider) with a boat name of Gypsy. I’m surprised we ever got it.

We hoisted anchor as soon as he returned and made our way via the ‘southern route’ to Chacachacare Island. Some of the other cruisers had told us to where to anchor and advised us to dive the anchor to make sure that it was well dug in as the bottom was sand over marl which means a couple of inches of sand, coral and rock over cement. Essentially, pure weight holds you in place. We took their advice and found ourselves in a natural harbor surrounded by an island jungle. We anchored in front of a big sign stating “Chacachacare” which proved that we had arrived at the point we had set out for, I’m glad to see we haven’t lost our touch.

Chacachacare was a leper colony established by an order of nuns supposedly out of Trinidad (I noticed in the cemetery that most were born in France and Portugal) who, in the early 1980’s, simply closed its doors and left. Medical records, hospital beds, x-ray equipment, medicines, you name it, were left where they were last used. Even the nunnery and its attending buildings were walked away from. Since then, however, the jungle, termites, and graffiti artists have taken their toll. We were able to tell that at one time, this had been a beautiful area.

There had apparently been an entire village on the island with a road that boasted its own traffic light. Dale was pretty certain that he had found where the road had been, however, the jungle had reclaimed it. Only the stone bridges and steps from the water that led to various structures were still evident of any traffic.

We walked through old buildings that had been churches, a hospital, a pharmacy, a movie theater, probably nurses’ quarters and a couple of doctors’ homes on one side of the harbor. Then turned our attention to the nunnery on the other side of the harbor. We were surprised to see that someone was sort of taking care of this side. The growth had been cleared from the walkways, so the paths and buildings were in better shape with the jungle kept at bay. We followed the path to a well kept cemetery and read the headstones. The first nun had been buried there in 1872 and the last one had been buried in 1947. I assume that after that, the cure for leprosy was discovered and only those who were most afflicted remained until the doors closed.

We made our way back to the boat and at sundown, Dale blew the conch horn and wished Roger comfort from his treatments. He fired off the grill and threw a couple of tuna steaks on to cook while I made a salad.

During dinner, we listened to Russian speaking people on the radio chattering like magpies and so far, have been able to resist turning it off. Safety dictates that we leave it on throughout the night, so hopefully, they’ll tire of their constant chatter and we’ll be able to sleep. In the meantime, I’ve set my air horn, flood light and pepper spray near the door in case of trouble. This way I won’t need any of it. If I didn’t bring it all out, I might need it in a hurry.

Don’t worry guys, tomorrow night we’ll head to Grenada.