Bequia, Grenadines
13.00.640N
61.14.553W

We’re learning that one of the most important prerequisites to cruising is your collection of books that you are willing to exchange. This morning on her way into town Angela off Seafari dropped by to see if I was interested in exchanging books. She had a bag full and I found one that I was interested in. I was able to exchange it with one that was written by the same author. We all seem to take off with an abundance of books and then trade along the way. It’s kind of an interesting way to meet people. I directed her to DocNoMore and Wayfinder who also like to read. She told me of a store in town that keeps a bookshelf full of books that are exchangeable.

She and her husband were leaving Venezuela and were traveling around before heading back to Trinidad for the hurricane season. They had first hand knowledge of some of the things that we had been hearing, so we asked if they would mind if we directed Wayfinder to them when they came in.

Once Wayfinder did arrive, we made sure that they were introduced and that Seafari could relate their experiences to them. Needless to say, things are deteriorating dramatically in Venezuela with regard to American tourists. I had the distinct impression that it was cruisers and the establishments that catered to cruisers that were being targeted. We wanted Wayfinder to know what they were letting themselves in for.

Later in the afternoon, Dale, Roger, Elaine and I went snorkeling in a spot called the Devil’s Table. Although the visibility wasn’t great, there was an abundance of fish, sponges and coral. We did see a couple of different filefish that we hadn’t seen before. I was really pleased to see the schools of silversides that I had always enjoyed in the BVI’s. There were also impressive schools of grunts and tang in the area. We saw a few more Christmas Tree worms that were fun to wave the water around and watch them withdraw into their shells and then re-emerge when the water action subsided and of course, there were a couple of juvenile barracuda to keep you on your toes.

Today was the first that we heard of a tropical wave heading in our direction, so we’ll be watching the weather a little more closely for the next couple of days as we plan to move to the Tobago Keys on Sunday.

Bequia, Grenadines
13.00.640N
61.14.553W

This morning about 7am as Dale sat drinking his morning coffee in the cockpit, Kenmore, the photographer that we had first seen yesterday, came by to drop off a proof sheet of the photographs he had taken together with one that he had enlarged to show the quality of his work. They were very good. We bought one. We believe that Bev is correct in her conviction to spend a little more money to keep those who want to work, employed.

About 8, Dale, Roger & Bob dinghied into Port Elizabeth to check us into Customs. A couple of hours later, Dale & I returned to walk along the town’s quayside, foregoing the usual trip to the local fort on the highest precipice around. I was surprised to find the town so small. We’ve heard quite a few cruisers who, until this year’s insurance changes, preferred to stay here through hurricane season.

It’s really just a cruiser friendly fishing village. The colorful skiffs that weren’t out fishing, were lined up under the palm trees. Some had “TAXI” painted on the bow; others would collect and do your laundry or had fuel to sell. In any event, I noticed that there is a talented artist somewhere about. All of the hand painted signs whether on boats or bars are very pretty. Even the one advertising the pizzeria had a sign with ocean scenes on it.

We located the laundry and garbage drop off (always high on our agenda) and then spotted the fruit and vegetable market. This is where you get the freshest homegrown vegetables and eggs around. I bought a bag of ripe tomatoes from ‘Princess’. Tomorrow as I‘m trying to figure out how to use them all up, I’m sure I’ll question my sanity for not getting them in degrees of ripeness.

When we headed back to the Palace, we decided to move over to the area we had originally wanted to anchor yesterday, since several boats had pulled out today. The three of us are in a tight little group in shallow water; 10’ the shallowest we’ve seen in ages.

Tonight we all got together for an organized potluck (you bring the salad, I’ll bring the starch) on DocNoMore, where we met Sandy & her husband off Caliente. The conversation tonight was more of the experienced guys telling us ‘newbies’ the ins and outs of staying in Trinidad. It sounds like a lot of fun.

Bequia, Grenadines
13.00.640N
61.14.553W

We hoisted sail at 5:30 am this morning and passed between the Pitons into the ocean just as the sun was rising. We had discussed our passage with DocNoMore and Foreclosure regarding whether or not we would stop in St. Vincent on our way south. We all had heard the reports of the occasional burglary or robbery of yachtsmen who had stopped in St. Vincent. For Dale and I, it was the cruising guides that made up our minds with the simple phrase of “predatory individuals”. Another guide advised that taxis could only be hired to go so far before they refused to go any further. We decided that we would just by pass the whole island.

This of course, made for a long day of sailing since the next island in the Grenadines was about 53 miles away across a stretch of water that was likened to that of the Gulf Stream. It could be a walk in the park or something that made you question your sanity.

As luck would have it, it was a walk in the park for us. Leaving so early in the morning allowed us to make it across before the winds really had a chance to fill in. Still the current was a good two knots against us most of the way across. As the winds filled in, we were able to turn off the motor and sail several hours before we came to the first mountain. Then we had to dodge DocNoMore who suddenly appeared to have stopped in front of us while we were still sailing rather quickly in his direction. As soon as we reached his position, we too stopped as if we had snagged a tail hook.

So . . . on came the engines again. While motor sailing along Bequia (Beck-way), the wind came from all directions. We finally gave up and rolled the sails in.

While still quite a ways out, we heard a shrill whistle and saw a little inflatable boat darting in front of us, to the side of us, off to the other side. Each time tooting his little whistle. Our cruising guide had described this, so we knew that it was “Kenmore” the local photographer, who risks his life each day to make his living taking pictures of the boats who come to Bequia. Today was rather calm, but it was reported that he is out in heavy seas just as readily as he was today. We knew that we would be meeting him in the next 24 hours.

We entered Admiralty Bay in the town of Port Elizabeth and began circling around the various anchorages. Since our friends on Foreclosure had been here on several occasions before, they gave us the heads up as to where to anchor. Arriving rather late in the afternoon, there was no room for us, so we ended up taking a mooring in front of an establishment with gingerbread along its roofline.

After each of us was settled, the guys decided that they would check into customs tomorrow and the ladies decided that we would have a quiet dinner on the boat. We are all tired.
Not a whole lot of excitement but definitely a full day.

Jalousie, St. Lucia
13.49.382N
61.03.878W

While I tried to access the internet to order Mother’s Day flowers, Dale & Roger went in to check us out. Two hours later, both of us were steaming. Dale for having to wait for island time to end and me because the internet kept dropping me off line every time I started to get close to finishing my transaction. I can’t tell if my mother is getting one order of flowers or 12.

After Dale returned, we hoisted anchor and exited the lagoon, passed the marina and eased out of the channel that led into our home for the past few days. We turned into the wind and unfurled our sails into what proved to be a great trip. The waves were hardly bigger than ripples and the wind was all over the place. Generally it kept between 10-15 kts but it would drop down to 7 and up to 28 depending upon where we were located in relation to the steep mountains.

We pulled into a large bay to the outside of Petit Piton and with the help of a boat boy, snagged a mooring for about an hour to go snorkeling by the “bat cave”. Its been a while since we’ve snorkeled, so it felt good to get back into the water.

There was an abundant selection of coral, sponges, and fish with every color of the rainbow represented. There were several schools of fish; sergeant majors and others that I didn’t recognize. We saw foureye butterfly fish, blue tang, French grunts, parrotfish, yellow tail snapper, squirrelfish, flounder and the occasional porcupine fish. It was the first time for both of us seeing a spotted drum (a black and white fish with both stripes and polka dots). It was also the first time for me to see a squadron of to squid that appeared to be flying in formation around the reefs. No barracuda. No sharks.

After drying off, we slipped our mooring and circled around Petit Piton so that we were between the two Pitons, Petit and Gross. What a grand sight. There are hardly words to describe the majesty of these sheer mountains which appear to rise straight out of the sea. A few yards off shore, the depths dropped to over 200 feet. We grabbed another mooring at this location and prepared for our dinner ashore at a local restaurant called Harmony Beach, run by Benny & Marcelene and their family.

Little Ben came around in a skiff with the menu so that we could make our selections. Later he returned with some cousins to boat sit while he took us to shore to eat. What a treat. Since it is becoming late in the ‘season’, we were the only ones there. Marcelene prepared a wonderful meal for 6. Each of us had the entrée we selected but then she added just a touch of the island’s produce to each plate. We had a small amount of red cabbage, green cabbage and carrots, together with a slice of plantain, white sweet potato, yam, dasheen, and a couple more vegetables that I can’t remember the names of. This was in addition to the bowls of mixed vegetables and rice that were served family style.

When we paid our bill and prepared to leave, Marcelene and her daughter (learning how to wait tables), gave each of the ladies a grapefruit and a miniature clay pot made by the local artisans as gifts. The trickle down theory in action. They attract the cruisers with their restaurant but bought items from other locals to keep the money circulating in the community.

After dinner, Little Ben came back around in his skiff to take us back to our boats and retrieve the cousins. What a great concept. I didn’t question the need for a boat sitter, since the restaurant and the family came highly recommended. We all had a wonderful time and didn’t worry about a thing.

Rodney Bay, St. Lucia
14.04.319N
60.57.157W

Today is our big day of touring St. Lucia. Roger & Elaine picked us up in their dinghy and we met up with Mike & Sara off Wayfinder, Buddy & Melissa off Indigo Moon, and Carol & Wayne off Take Time, outside of Scuttlebutts. Chris, our guide was delighted when his fare of 6 increased to a fare of 10. Our first stop was to pick up a larger minivan.

At our next stop, a look out over the harbor of Castries, Roger was attacked by all of the venders. For some reason or other, he must of looked like a soft target. None of us had an ounce of sympathy and egged the vendors on by calling him Captain. How he escaped without buying beads, t-shirts or a hat is beyond me.

After a couple of more look out stops, we toured a bakery that made cassava bread. Cassava is a root that is ground into flour and shaped into what looks like a thick 6” tortilla. Flavors such as ginger, cherry, apple-raisin, salt-fish, and peanut can be added. Then the bread is baked on top of banana leaves on an huge iron skillet over a wood fire. The end result was a heavy bread that only took a few bites to fill up on.

Some of our other stops took us to a look out over the fishing village of Soufriere, where colorful fishing boats were anchored along the shore. Another was along a banana plantation where the stalks of bananas were enclosed in large plastic bags to keep the sun, bats, and insects off them; after our years of living in Puerto Rico, I didn‘t know that commercial bananas had to be protected in such a way.

We toured a botanical garden which, although was very beautiful, paled in comparison to the two we had previously toured. However, this one had a waterfall that created the warm mineral springs that Empress Josephine used to bathe in. Chris has advised us to bring our bathing suits, so we were prepared to spend the half hour or so soaking in the mineral waters. Although they were invigorating, they didn’t reduce our age by the 15 years as advertised.

Our next stop was at a ‘drive through volcano’. We climbed out of the van, crossed over waterfalls where the water temp ranged from 80-100F. We followed the park guide to where the thick black sulfur water was bubbling up and huge plumes of steam rose over the bubbling pits of the ‘dormant’ volcano. The sulfur aroma was intense, to say the least. It was explained that as long as the gasses are being emitted, instead of building up under the crust, the volcano will not erupt and therefore, it is considered dormant. You already know my thoughts about that.

By this time, we were all ravenous and stopped at Ladera, a restaurant high on an adjacent mountain looking directly across to the famous Pitons of St. Lucia; great meal; better view. Since the restaurant is completely open, they had water pistols on the tables to discourage the birds from scavenging. With a group of 10 aging pirates on an outing, you can imaging where that led. I asked a waiter as we were leaving if they ever had water fights before. He nodded and said “everyday”.

It was about 4 o’clock and although the island of St. Lucia is only 24 miles long, Chris gave us the option of continuing on our circumnavigation of the island (which would take another 4 hours) or call it a day and head back (which would take 2 hours). We were all tired and called it a day.

On Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride back, several of the passengers concentrated on not losing their lunches to the switchbacks and hairpin turns. Since Dale & I were in the back, we only saw when we came within an inch or two of hitting other cars. Melissa, who was sitting in the middle of the second row had a bird‘s eye view of everything and at one point threw her hands up to cover her eyes since she was sure we were going to hitting somebody or something.

As he did before, Chris returned us to the marina safe and sound. A little woozy, some a little nauseous, but safe none the less. We all decided that we had had too big a lunch to worry about dinner. We grabbed an ice cream cone to settle our stomachs and called it a day.

Tomorrow we will once again head south to Soufriere, to the anchorage between the two Piton mountains we saw from the Ladera restaurant. The view should be spectacular.

Rodney Bay, St. Lucia
14.04.319N
60.57.157W

Another quiet rainy day on the boat. We dinghied to the marina to scout out a Fed Ex store for mail and then dropped by and said hi to DocNoMore, Wayfinder, and Foreclosure on our way back to the Palace. Then Buddy and Melissa off Indigo Moon dropped by to say hello to us.

All of the boat crews from DocNoMore, Indigo Moon, Foreclosure, Take Time and Gypsy Palace got together on Wayfinder for a potluck dinner later. We discussed our plans of the around the island tour set for tomorrow (Foreclosure had done this previously so declined our invitation) and our eventual plans for heading south.

Dale & I finally received confirmation that we had reservations at a marina in Trinidad from July 1 through the end of September. Once we get there, we’ll be in a better position to decide whether we want to extend our stay or go elsewhere. DocNoMore and Foreclosure will be in a different marina but in Trinidad too. Indigo Moon, Wayfinder and Take Time are planning on heading further south to Puerto LaCruz, Venezuela. There was much discussion regarding the declining atmosphere towards American cruisers in Venezuela, yet our friends seem very determined to go. Dale & I have decided that unless a hurricane forces us further south, we won’t be going to the mainland of Venezuela at all, regardless of insurance boxes.

Roger brought up a very interesting thought. Because of insurance stipulations, everyone is forced into a very small area in the south of the Caribbean. From a risk management standpoint, if boats could spread through out the Caribbean, the chances of a catastrophic loss to the insurance companies would be less. With everyone forced into a limited area, should a hurricane hit, it would be disastrous.

In spite of the seriousness of our conversation, we had a good time and will be watching out for each other on our way south.

Rodney Bay, St. Lucia
14.04.319N
60.57.157W

For some reason, today was a rather quite day. Roger & Elaine had gone on another hike in the mountains. Since I had a problem with the heat from our last hike, Dale and I elected to walk through town and out to the beach.

We dubbed one street as restaurant row. There was an Indian restaurant, two Chinese restaurants, an English pub, various bakeries, sandwich shops, a KFC (these are on every island) and finally an open air restaurant named Spinnakers, overlooking the beach.

Our morning’s entertainment came while we watched the driver of a pick up truck having his share of problems. He delivered a load of lumber to an establishment on the beach by driving his truck out onto the beach to drop it off. Then he got stuck. He tried driving parallel to the beach; he tried driving perpendicular. He tried driving almost the entire length and then he tried to run over a mother and her two small children playing in the surf. Finally, two other men ran out to him and somehow got him out. I don’t think it was 15 minutes later when he did it all over again with another load. At that point, the mother and her two small children left the beach. I figured Dale and I were safe behind the coconut palms, but I was prepared to jump and run if he came in our direction.

Later in the day, Mike & Sara off Wayfinder and Buddy & Melissa off Indigo Moon came in. We touched base with them and added them to our list of people interested in taking the around the island tour.

Diane, whom I had previously met on Cloud Nine, introduced me to Barbara, who was on her way north from Trinidad after her husband started having health problems. She was exchanging Trinidad & Tabago dollars for American dollars. I was able to buy a few but certainly not all that she had to offer. At least now we won’t have to run to the ATM as soon as we arrive to have the right currency for paying our customs and immigration fees.

Like I said in the beginning, not a real exciting day.

Rodney Bay, St. Lucia
14.04.319N
60.57.157W

Happy Birthday James! We love you and miss you.

It rained most of today, so we walked around the shops of Rodney Bay and the mall that is located off to the side of the lagoon where we are anchored. Neither one of us had ever had a roti before, so we ordered one for lunch. Turns out its a mix of beef and potatoes in a curry sauce rolled up into a tortilla. Yum!

Our original plan was to take a picnic dinner with us to the Jazz Festival but when we found out that Chris wasn’t going to pick us up until after 6:00pm, we decided to eat on the boat before we went.

Boy were we glad that we hired Chris. I don’t think Roger or Dale or any combination of the two would have been able to get us to that festival and find a parking place. The streets are hardly big enough for two cars to pass, but when you start parking cars along the sides it gets downright crazy.

Chris dropped us off at the door and told us that he would pick us back up again at the corner to where the park was. We entered what looked like a baseball field through a single door. We had to open our cooler to show that we only brought unbreakable bottles and leave Dale‘s pocket knife (all 1.5“ of it) with Ross, the big guy in the military uniform at the door. I had vacuum sealed our ponchos so I had to get Ross to open them for us. He was very nice.

We bought some over priced popcorn and headed to the top row on the bleachers. The jazz playing on the PA system was wonderful and we settled in for a relaxing evening of Jazz in the park.

Gus, the manager of the marina restaurant, had told us that the only thing that ever starts on time in St. Lucia is Jazz Festival. He wasn’t wrong. The only problem was . . . It wasn’t any type of jazz that we recognized. They advertised Nancy Wilson, Freddie Cole, (Nate King Cole’s brother), Babyface and some really big names in classical jazz. What we got was reggie (not bad), jump up (what?) socca (some sort of hiphop with African origins), and rap. Now I like some rap but these guys couldn’t sing on tune or speak understandable words. All of it was loud. Very loud. Dale likened it to reggie/rap crossed with a Richard Simmons exercise tape. Everyone was bouncing in place. Bouncing to the left, bouncing to the right. Bouncing up and down with the faint smell of marijuana smoke wafting in the air; at least that‘s what Dale said that it was.

After 3 hours, we decided we’d had enough. I thought Roger would blow a gasket since he is really quite the jazz aficionado but he just grumbled about his ears being numb and that it wasn‘t jazz. Dale & Elaine started jumping around and waving their arms; I just watched, praying that neither one of them would keel over with a heart attack. I collected our little knife from Ross as we headed out the gate and ventured outside and down to the corner. The place was swarming with people. A good number of them, I’d try to avoid at any time of the day much less 11:00 at night.

Thank heavens, as promised, Chris was waiting for us. In the minivan, two other ladies had come to the festival but upon hearing the music from outside the park, they decided they’d just stay in the van.

Chris deposited all of us back at the marina, safe and sound, with the promise that he would be back on Monday at 8:30am to take us on an around the island tour.

Rodney Bay, St. Lucia
14.04.319N
60.57.157W

We met up with Roger & Elaine at Skuttlebutts, the restaurant/bar/grill located at the marina. We had met Gus, the manager, yesterday and today we sought out his guidance with regard to purchasing tickets to St. Lucia’s Jazz Festival. He directed us to Chris Joseph, a local taxi/tour guide driver. After a bit of discussion with Chris, it was decided that it would be cheaper and less stressful for us if we hired him to purchase our tickets for us, pick us up, deliver us to the opening day ceremonies in the next town and then return for us later in the evening than it would be for us to rent a car and negotiate these skinny roads on our own. With this task accomplished we were off for a morning hike to St. Lucia’s fort (every island has a fort).

We dinghied out of the channel and along the white sand beach towards Sandals, located on a spit between Pigeon Island and the mainland of St. Lucia. We tied up to the Park’s dock on Pigeon Island, paid our fees and started the climb to top of Ft. Rodney. I am not kidding you when I tell you that part of the hike was completely vertical. There was literally a ladder at the upper most portion of the mountain leading to the fort on top. We decided that it was better to use the majority of our energy climbing to the top and then take our time coming back down.

As with most forts we‘ve explored along our way, it had a great view. We caught our breath, snapped a few pictures, then started back down. There were a couple of lookout spots along the way where we stopped to gaze at the beauty of the islands and water before us. A lady passed by desperately calling ahead to her husband that she needed to stop for a cigarette break; for some reason, that cracked me up.

We descended about half way down the mountain and crossed over to another hill where there was a level spot that had once been some type of barracks; we snapped a few pictures back in the direction that we had come, before descending the rest of the way.

At the bottom of the mountain, one of the buildings still partially standing was the officer quarters. The Park Service has left half of the building in its natural state (a ruin) and the other half has been made into a museum that has a pretty good audio/visual presentation of the Battle of the Saints.

The rest of our walk was out to the end of Pigeon Island where the U.S.Navy had a tracking station during WWII.

After using up all of our energy for one day, we spent the rest of the day, relaxing and reading.

Rodney Bay, St. Lucia
14.04.319N
60.57.157W

Do you remember when we were in Culebrita and I described where I pulled on the out furl before I pulled on the out haul, in essence unfurling the main in the mast? Thank heavens it wasn’t me who did it today. We had anticipated hoisting anchor at 7:00am but due to the complication, it was closer to 7:30 before we were able to inch out the sail, lift the anchor off the bottom and chase after DocNoMore who had left on time. Also, lucky for us, it was the only problem we had during the day. It ended up being a great transit. The winds were 12-15kts and the waves were 3-4’; making for a great romp across the passage between the islands.

About 4 hours later and we rounded Pigeon Island and entered into Rodney Bay, St. Lucia. The bay itself is quite large. There is a Sandals Beach Resort along the Pigeon Island side and a beautiful white sand beach running along the town side. With the aid of the chart plotter and the maps in the cruising guide, we were able to locate the tiny but deep channel leading to the marina and its lagoon further inside. From outside the bay looking in, it was rather difficult to discern the opening between the 2 rock jetties that overlapped each other, thereby obscuring the actual passage between them.

We entered the marina area and easily tied up to the fuel dock. We added 55 gallons of diesel to our tanks and prepared to leave when Dale noted that he was given a bill for $48 EC (Eastern Caribbean dollars $2.65=$1 US). After having just come from Martinique where the currency is Euros ($.75=$1 US), it took him a few seconds to realize that a rather large mistake had been made.

He returned to the cashier and explained that he bought 55 gallons of fuel not the 5.5 gallons she had charged him for. You would have thought she would have been a bit more responsive to the fact that he had pointed out the discrepancy but she just corrected the mistake and handed him back the bill with hardly a smile.

We threaded our way back to the lagoon and dropped the hook in 8’ of sticky mud. There are only 2 other boats in here besides us and DocNoMore, so we have plenty of swing room. Besides that, our view couldn’t be better. We are surrounded by beautifully landscaped 2 story duplexes and 2 & 3 story town homes lining the lagoon. The houses beyond them on the hillside appear to be well maintained too. In short, this island seems a lot more developed and economically sound than the other islands we’ve visited.

While Dale and Roger checked us into customs, Elaine introduced me to Don & Diane on Cloud Nine and Greg & Meg on Wet Bar. Both of these boat crews have been cruising for quite some time now and offered all sorts of tidbits on the islands further south to us first timers. When Dale & Roger came back, we promised to return later to continue our discussions.

This evening, the four boat crews got together for a potluck dinner and talked about anything and everything. One of the first things on our to-do list is to locate tickets to the 15th Annual St. Lucia Jazz Festival which starts this week.

St. Anne, Martinique
14.26.306N
60.53.186W

We, DocNoMore and Wayfinder took the dinghies over to the next bay to do some provisioning; we also heard that they had two chandleries that we had to check out.

We were amazed to find hundreds of boats in Marin Yacht Harbor. Fourteen charter companies operate out of the harbor; some we’ve never even heard of. We nosed our way in to the (very nice) dinghy dock and performed our customary inspection of the local chandleries. Dale actually found a shore power receptacle that he had been thinking of replacing.

We then dinghied over to the dock behind the local supermarket. How convenient! Another French or Martinique difference we found is that you have to pay to use a shopping cart. You need a Euro coin to obtain the cart, do your shopping and then you get your coin back when you return the cart. I guess that way the shopping carts are always returned.

We finished our shopping and then scooted back as quick as we could, since we could see that rain on the way.

In between raindrops, Dale swapped out the shore power receptacle. Looks like it was a good thing. When he started stripping the wire to attach the new one, there were burn marks going back several inches inside the casing. He says that he’s going to swap out the entire wire now, since he doesn’t trust it at this point.

Tonight, dinner is on the Palace. Tomorrow we and DocNoMore will head south again to St. Lucia. Wayfinder is going to stay here and wait for us to radio back as to whether they can bring their 3 dogs into the country. We’ve heard that as long as they stay on the boat and not get off, it’s alright. We just want to make sure before any fines are levied. Apparently, from here south, it gets a little tricky bringing animals with you. It’s why Wayfinder is heading all the way to Venezuela instead of stopping at Trinidad. Trinidad has a long quarantine, so they‘ll bypass it altogether.

In fact, we just found out today, that the two marinas in Trinidad that we were hoping to stay at are completely booked, so we might be heading to Venezuela with them. We’ve also heard that many boats have two and three reservations each just to make sure they get in. Then once accepted, they cancel the others. So we might get in yet. We’ll just have to check to see what’s available when we get there.

St. Anne, Martinique
14.26.306N
60.53.186W

Today was field day on the Palace. While Dale scrubbed the bottom of the boat, I scrubbed the inside. Not very exciting.

Later, we dinghied into town and walked to the end of its main street, up to the local church, across to the cemetery, along the quayside and then back to the dinghy dock. We could see the Club Med further along the beach and commented that most people who come to the resort probably never see the little town right next to it. We bought a couple of baguettes from the local bakery and returned to the Palace.

This evening, we and DocNoMore were invited to visit on Wayfinder, a 47’ Nordhaven trawler. The nickel tour had both of the sail boat crews drooling over the full sized refrigerator, stove, oven, microwave, and the apartment sized dishwasher and washer/dryer. They also paid twice to three times as much for their boat as we did ours and still have just as many problems on their boat as we do ours They said that in the long run, their boat was made in China. I’m glad that they’re nice people and willing to share their air conditioning with us. We enjoyed their company.

St. Anne, Martinique
14.26.306N
60.53.186W

We hoisted anchor about 9 am and together with Wayfinder, moved on down to St. Anne, the last anchorage on Martinique heading south.

I’m not sure why I considered today’s trip a challenge. We had the normal 15-18kts of wind. We had the normal 4-6’ waves. We had the normal katabolic winds around the mountains either stopping us dead in our tracks or knocking us on our ears. However, after a few hours of all these normal conditions, I was tired.

We rounded to the inside of Diamond Rock before crossing the bay into St. Anne. Diamond Rock is a tiny island with an extraordinarily tall peak rising out of the sea a couple of miles from shore. The English were so taken with its position that they commissioned the rock as a ship, the H.M.S. Diamond Rock, equipped it with cannons and enough supplies and water for a full crew of men for 18 months. This, of course, incensed Napoleon. (Empress Josephine was born in Martinique) So the little dude sent his Navy out to take back the rock.

After seeing this infamous rock for myself and the bay that it guards, I’ve decided that in the late 1700’s early 1800’s, the French and English would fight over anything.

St. Anne is a straight on shot; you just cross the bay and sail on up to where you want to drop your hook. Thankfully, it is 15-20’ deep for quite a ways out. There are probably 50 boats here with plenty of room for more.

It was good to meet up with DocNoMore again. We introduced them to Wayfinder and they introduced us to Chez Freddie and Island Spirit. We all got together for a potluck on DocNoMore and exchanged stories well past our normal bedtime of 9:00.

Ft. de France, Martinique
14.35.977N
61.04.151W

This morning at 9:00am we stood in front of the statute at the park just across the street from the dinghy dock waiting for our tour guide/driver. The only thing we knew for certain was that he would be driving a mini-bus and wearing a black hat.

So when Pedrick, came around the corner and asked for us by boat name, we knew we had the right person in spite of the fact that he wasn’t wearing a hat or driving a mini-bus. However, he assured us that the small car he suggested we all shoehorn ourselves into came with air conditioning. So off we go, 5 of us stuffed into a Peugeot; the air conditioning? All 4 windows rolled down. In spite of the shaky start, we ended up having a great time and Pedrick was a wonderful tour guide and spoke English fairly well, at least considerably better than our French.

We snaked our way up the mountains to the Eglise de Balata, a twin to the famous Basilica de Sacre Couer, located in Paris (that‘s a church to you heathens). We weaved our way through the valleys to the Balata Garden (botanical gardens) where I snapped a few hundred photos and came away with a list of names of the 200 plants that grow there. We stopped for a dip of the toes in a river of cool water descending from Mt. Pelee; drove up Mt. Pelee’ as far as we could in a car and finally toured the Bienvenue a’ la Distillerie Depaz, a rum distillery. No tour is complete without a rum tasting. This particular distillery was one of the two that was destroyed when Mt. Pelee’ erupted in 1902. Obviously, it has been rebuilt. The family that owns the distillery still maintains their lavish mansion to the side of the distillery; too bad we weren’t allowed to tour that.

We stopped for a bite to eat at the restaurant located at the distillery and thank heavens Pedrick was there to translate the menu for us. In fact, some other boaters we’d previously met in other anchorages asked to borrow our guide so that they could order too.

I ordered a rum punch with my meal thinking that I would get the normal fruit juice with rum. Instead I was given a bottle of rum, a small bottle of syrup, and a small glass with a stick of sugar cane in it. Pedrick showed me how to pour the sugar syrup into the glass, followed by a shot of rum, stir the mix with the sugar cane stick and then sipped. My first sip sent shivers up and down my spine to the point where I ordered a soft drink, any kind soft drink, that I could water down my “fruit punch” with. I ended up leaving most of it sitting on the table. I think I’m getting soft in my old age. Either that or the family rum is rot gut.

We finished the day with Pedrick taking the coastal route back while we sat catatonic after a big meal, transfixed by the scenery before us and a long day.

Ft. de France, Martinique
14.35.977N
61.04.151W

Today, we moved further south to Ft. de France along with Wayfinder. As compared to St. Pierre, Ft. de France is a bustling city.

Mike & Sara and Dale & I were making our way through the crowded streets to an ATM when a man, having a bad day, not quite totally sane, or both, started yelling at us that we Americans cannot take up the entire sidewalk. He told us to walk in a straight line. Everyone at the ATM started laughing (I guess because he was a crazy person) and we started laughing because he was one of only a handful that we found in the entire city who could speak English. So for the rest of the day, we’d walk in a straight line everywhere we went. It looked crazy but we did it just in case they all felt that way about Americans (and because we‘re silly).

A Tex-Mex restaurant was listed in our cruising guide and with two couples from southern California having guacamole withdrawals, we searched it out as soon as we had Euros in our pockets. Perhaps we should re-qualify the description--it was Tex-Mex with a definite French flair. Items such as burritos and fajitas were listed but everything in them was listed in French. No matter how Mexican the décor, the waitresses were French, only spoke French and our smattering of Spanish didn’t do us a lick of good. We resorted to pointing to pictures and then tried to convey the difference between beef, chicken and shrimp. (Two fingers by the temples = beef; brock-brock = chicken, and shrimp . . . we just gave up on, since it really isn’t a fish) In the end, the nachos were pretty good but the burritos were little square bundles whose flavor somewhat represented the real thing. Everything tasted good, just not quite the Tex-Mex we were looking for.

Right across the street was Sea Services, a marine chandlery. Of course, we were obligated by virtue of being boat owners to do a walk through. That’s when we learned that not only did we have to be buzzed into the two banks we went to, but we had to be buzzed into this establishment as well. I don’t know if it’s a French thing a Ft. de France oddity, or they saw us coming and locked the doors. In any event, they allowed us in. I don’t think we bought anything but since the proprietress spoke English, we asked her dozens of questions about the city, tours, etc.

She supplied us with maps, gave us the telephone number of a taxi driver that spoke English and when we tried to place a call to the English speaking taxi driver and couldn’t make the French operator understand us, we went running back to her and she actually placed the call for us setting up the tour of the island for us. Sea Services does a lot more than sell boat parts.

So, if you’re still wondering what we do all day. . . Think about it this way, it took 4 people to sort through the coins among us so see which one the telephone took, another hour to find a public telephone that worked, and then we ended up retracing our steps to find someone who understood what we wanted to say in the first place. That was just to make a telephone call. Imagine what it’s like when we’re trying to actually get something done.

St. Pierre, Martinique
14.44.436N
61.10.665W

Today is Dale’s birthday. So we celebrated it by hoisting our anchor at 5:30 am (without any complaint from me about the early hour) and easing out along the south coast of Dominica.

A Nordhaven powerboat named Wayfinder passed us in the morning while we were motorsailing, but when the winds filled in and we turned off the engine, we sailed faster than we could have motored and passed it later on.

They hailed us on the radio to ask how fast we were going since he guestimated that we had to be doing 13 kts. We told him no, that we were only doing about 8kts but once in awhile we’d inch closer to 8.5-9kts. The winds were 15-18kts and the seas were relatively calm. We left him in our wake. (That doesn’t happen very often.)

When we pulled into St. Pierre, Wayfinder had caught up to us again and anchored nearby. We dinghied over and met Mike & Sara from California. They’ve been cruising for 3 years now; first going to Alaska and then south through the Panama Canal. They told us that they cruise at a steady 6-6.5kts regardless of conditions.

We all headed in to check into customs at Martinique. While the guys filled out the paperwork, Sara and I headed to a museum that was dedicated to the eruption of Mount Pelee’ in 1902.

History tells that the volcano started making rumblings a couple of months prior to the eruption destroying two plantations on two separate occasions. If I remember this correctly, the mayor wanted to evacuate the city but another higher up politico persuaded him not to due to the upcoming election that was important to the island as a whole. As a result, on election day, it exploded sending rocks and poisonous gas the strength of an atomic bomb into the city of St. Pierre killing 20,000 of its 30,000 inhabitants. The once capital city over 250 years old was now completely destroyed and layed in smoldering ruins. A few days later, the volcano erupted again sending tons of ash down on the remains of the city. Photographs showed what looked like a bombed out city.

Today, there are only 5,000 inhabitants of St. Pierre. Houses are constructed using what was left of the stone buildings that remained standing. They just built upon the old without tearing it down. So now, you have a building with 2 stone walls and the rest with more modern construction. You also have a building where people are living or conducting business right next to a shell of a building destroyed 100 years ago. Really kind of bizarre.

We walked back through town with a hankering for pizza but nothing had opened up yet. So, we picked up some veggies at the outdoor market and went back to the boat and made dinner. We’re learning that most places on these French islands don’t open for dinner until after 7:00; way too late for us since we like to be back on the boat before dark.

Portsmouth, Dominica
15.34.905N
61.27.821W

Again we started our day with fresh warm bread brought to the boat, (it’s a tough life but someone has to live it.)

We were hoping that we could be paired with at least one other couple, possibly two to take the waterfall and rain forest tour. Unfortunately, Andrew never could find anyone else that was interested and we weren’t prepared to pay the entire cost ourselves, so we ended up reading the entire day.

Tomorrow, we’ll head on to Martinique.

Portsmouth, Dominica
15.34.905N
61.27.821W

Last evening, we dinghied to Big Daddy’s Restaurant for dinner and while waiting there, another cruiser on a boat named Attitude came in who we recognized as being anchored near us in Les Saints a couple of days before. Since he appeared to be eating alone, we invited him to join us. Larry Higgins is a retired Army test pilot single handing his cruise south. We discussed families, military stations, and the best places to lay low over hurricane season over dinner.

At the end of our dinner, the manager of the restaurant came by and sat with us for awhile. Jon had sailed into the bay after coming over from Germany, loved the place and decided to stay. He had suggested to the owner about bringing internet to the restaurant as a means of enticement, as well as offering fresh bread in the morning. He also organized the women who offer to do laundry and now the restaurant is pretty much a one stop shop.

So as a result, we started today with fresh, warm French bread delivered right to our boat. We took our laundry to the restaurant by 9am, knowing that it would be returned to us by happy hour this evening. I also knew where to get DSL internet connection at a reasonable price.

So while I camped out in the internet section of the open air, thatched roof restaurant (some places are just more conducive for working than others) for the next couple of hours, Dale walked around town to get the lay of the land. He didn’t tell me until later that twice on this walkabout, he was offered ganja. I told him that the pony tail was going to have to go. Nice English ladies speak to me, potheads speak to him.

We returned to the boat for a quiet afternoon and at 3:30, Andrew came back to take us on our Indian River tour. Simon and Christina from another boat were already in the skiff. When we reached the dock leading to the River, we switched to a longboat that had to be rowed. They are trying to maintain the River in its most natural state so that is how we proceeded up the River.

The River itself is though the bottom of the rainforest with all of the natural vegetation coming right down and sometimes across the River and out to the sea. We learned that one of the scenes in the movie, Pirates of Caribbean Part II, was filmed on a small corner in the River. The film crew brought everything in and carted everything back out again. The only thing remaining was a bit of Spanish moss dangling from a tree that was inadvertently left behind.

The blood wood tree roots were phenomenal. They were quite large in some places which twisted and turned into intricate wavy shapes the further up the River we went. When we reached a bend in the River where rapids started and where a large thatched covered bar was located, we stopped. The claim to fame here was a rum punch called dynamite.

Of course, we all had one. It was a brown syrupy liquid served in a small glass. My first sip about set me on fire but by the time I finished sipping it, it wasn’t too bad. Of course, by then we all started talking and becoming friends.

As chance would have it, Simon is a gynecologist from Cyprus. He also co-authored some of the textbooks Dale studied in medical school. Christina, from England, is assigned to the British Embassy in Cyprus and James, the skipper of the boat they were on, was the Army attaché assigned to the same Embassy. In Cyprus, Simon was the one with the boat. Now that James is retired and sailing here, they arranged to take their vacations in the Caribbean with him.

We all had dinner together at the Purple Turtle and had a great time watching Christina eating the lobster she had to have before the end of her vacation. Unfortunately, they were on a time schedule and had to return to Antigua to catch their planes, so were leaving in the morning. I think if they had stuck around longer, we would have had a blast together. As it is, they will be fondly remembered here in our log.

Portsmouth, Dominica
15.34.905N
61.27.821W

Finally! We were able to check into Guadeloupe through the Saints. While I readied the boat for departure, Dale went in one last time to see if we could actually check in and out of the country. He filled out the proper documentation and turned it in only to be told to have a seat. Twenty minutes later, they came back and said that everything was set. He said that he thought they ended up faxing the information to Guadeloupe and that they stamped the documentation then faxed it back to the Saints. Whatever works! We’re administratively pure.

As soon as he was back and the dinghy brought up, we were off. We kept a reef in the main sail as we anticipated the strong winds previously encountered when coming out of the lee of an island and directly into the path of the trades but let the jib out fully.

We slipped between the last of the small island comprising the Saints and out into unprotected waters. It was a little rough with the normal 4-6 waves with 15-20kts of wind. We had no sooner turned off the engine when kapow! The dinghy fell. Two of the four clips holding the dinghy up broke at the same time.

Dale grabbed the jib lines and started bringing in the sail while I turned the engine back on and brought us into the wind to take the pressure off the sail so that he could finish rolling up the jib. Then I did my very best to keep the boat pointed into the wind for the next half hour while he went below to get the tools he thought he needed to effect a repair and then while he ended up jury rigging another way to hold the dinghy up.

This time the cables didn’t break but the clips he used to hook the cables to the eye-bolts on the dinghy itself. He ended up threading some lines though the lines that run along the sides of the dinghy used as handholds to drag it up on the beach.

It reminded me of the time that Fred & Geri and Dale &I went through the same thing when we chartered a boat out of Burnt Store Marina on the west coast of Florida and the dinghy fell. The ride was about the same too. It wasn’t so much keeping the boat pointed into the wind as much as keeping it into the waves at the same time.

This time, the majority of the waves were 3-5’ tall but every 7th or 8th set would be 6-7’ tall. Those had a tendency to try to swamp the dinghy before he was able to get it higher out of the water. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the waves in front of me so that when I saw the larger ones coming I could turn into them a little more and keep the rocking to a minimum. It didn’t matter, there was some pretty salty language when the Palace’s rear end would ride the trough down and dig in while riding the next wave up. Every few minutes or so, I’d steal a glance to the side to make sure that we weren’t being blown back down on the islands and reefs we had passed by on our way out.

Needless to say, we motorsailed the remainder of the way to Dominica so that we didn’t list as much, putting more of a strain on the lashings than was absolutely necessary. I was pretty concerned that the side ropes were fraying and wouldn’t hold up the entire trip. Thank heavens they held just a bit longer.

We arrived at the entrance of Portsmouth, Dominica, where the harbor is about 2 miles wide and a 1 mile deep and were immediately met by our first boat boy who came zooming out of the rocks to heartily welcome us to Dominica. We knew that eventually we were going to have to deal with the ‘entrepreneurs‘ so I guess that today was as good as any to start learning how to manage the situation. He motored along beside us long enough to tell us his name and that he was an official Indian River guide and would be glad to assist us once we were anchored.

With the harbor being so large, it took some time to actually get to where we could drop the hook. By the time we had found a spot that we liked, we were surrounded by 4 colorful skiffs buzzing around us with the ’boat boys’ yelling out their names and that they were there to help us in any way possible. Dale thanked them and told them that we needed to anchor and check into customs before we did anything else. Thankfully, they backed off a few feet and quieted down. By this time, I had referred back to our cruising guide which had actually listed the one who had come out of the rocks as being one of several who were recommended.

We anchored in 25’ of water and dug in quickly. Then they moved in to complete their bids. Dale did most of his talking with Andrew on Sea Bird, who filled us in on what was available and who did what. He directed us to another ‘boat boy’ by the name of Christian, who delivered fruits, vegetables and fresh bread in the morning. With our business completed and the remaining skiffs streaking off for the newer arrivals behind us, we untangled the dinghy and headed for Customs.

Unfortunately, this was one of those times when the location outlined in the cruising guide was wrong. Lucky for us, a local taxi driver saw our dilemma and pointed us in the right direction even further around the bay by the commercial docks. So off we went again. We locked our dinghy to a metal post and climbed up to the commercial dock to start looking for the customs office. While walking towards what looked like an official building with the island flag out front, a friendly English voice called out to us and beckoned us in her direction.

Helen, from England, married a local about a year ago and together they run the dive shop. She told us that we didn’t look the type to be buying bananas by the stalk and directed us to the customs office around the corner. While we were actually filling out the paperwork in the office, she came in and we had a very nice chat. During that chat, she shameless flirted with the customs officials, who thoroughly enjoyed every minutes of it. Once they started smiling, even they started to share their local knowledge with us. It was the most informative check in we’ve encountered thus far.

On our way back to the boat, we stopped by the local bank to withdraw some Euros and tied up to the Indian River guides dock. While there, Helen showed up again and once again, we had a nice conversation. She told us when the best times were for taking the River tour and suggested limiting our waterfall tour to the ones in the north and which restaurants were best for lunch and which were better for dinner. The River guides standing along the dock joined in with their own comments and once again, we obtained better local knowledge than ever before.

Being so well informed this time, this should be a great stop.

Bourg des Saintes
Les Saintes
15.52.019N
61.35.165W

Today is Sunday, so we started the morning with pancakes before heading into the village of Bourg des Saintes to walk along their streets. It’s really hardly more than a fishing village with colorful little boats lining their waterways but there are a couple of touristy shops tucked among the bakeries and restaurants that line the main street.

We started our walk toward the home of a local doctor that is shaped like the bow of a ship jutting out into the water; complete with portholes and a large chain cascading down as if attached to an anchor imbedded in the harbor. Someone with a sense of humor undoubtedly.

Then we turned and walked down the main street through the town. Church was just getting out and they were apparently dedicating a new bell as everyone was taking turns having their picture snapped with it.

We were surprised to see that the main mode of transportation, besides walking, is scooter. Scores of scooters were parked in front of the church on the street which seems to have been barricaded for that purpose. I was amused to watch ladies, young and old alike, dressed in high heels or sandals, delicate fabric dresses or cotton pants, who would come out, kick start their scooter into action, hop on and off they’d go.

I supposed we shouldn’t have been too surprised since the streets were very narrow. The hand full of cars that we did see had to pull off onto the sidewalk in order to pass another coming its way.

Again, I was pleased to see how clean they kept their village and the flowers that spilled out of the gardens into the streets and pathways we walked. Every house door and window had heavy wooden shutters that were thrown open to catch the trade winds for cooling. No where did I see any sign of air conditioning. It was if we had stepped back in time and things were simple and efficient.

We walked to the end of the town, went up a block or two and then returned to the center of town where we sat in the town square for a while and watched the people come and go on a Sunday morning. Being French, they greeted each other with a kiss on each side of face while talking non-stop the entire time.

We made our way back to the boat and the rest of the day we spent reading and watching the world go by.

Tomorrow, we’ll try to clear customs but if they aren’t there, we’ll head off to Dominique and hope they let us in.

Bourg des Saintes
Les Saintes
15.52.019N
61.35.165W

While I tore the boat apart looking for coffee I knew I had packed, Dale camped out on the doorstep of the Customs office bright and early this morning, hoping that we’d have more luck today. He did meet the cleaning woman who indicated that the office was closed and didn’t know when it would open (or didn’t know what he was saying, we’re not too sure which).

On his way back to the boat, he dropped by Indigo Moon who said that they had heard from some of their friends about another office located in Les Saintes (part of the French protectorate) that was supposed to be open. Since we had wanted to spend a day or two there, we decided that it would be better to keep moving than to get hung up for the entire weekend waiting for a bureaucrat that would never show.

So about 9:30 am, we hoisted our anchor and headed south to a group of islands called Les Saintes. The trip was exciting. We either had no winds to speak of or up to 30kts coming from around and down the mountains and out to sea. We knew to expect some pretty intense winds once we cleared the island from those being diverted between the two mountainous islands. However, as we rounded the tip, we also saw a squall line approaching. I grabbed the cruising guide and plugged in a waypoint to guide us to before we were lost in the rainstorm while Dale ran around closing hatches and dropping down the side curtains.

The rain cleared once and then another squall moved in behind it. By the time both cleared, we had made the crossing and were at the entrance to the harbor of Bourg des Saintes. Again this is an extremely deep harbor surrounded by mountains. We circled and circled but the shallowest we could find to drop our hook was in 35’. Many boats are anchored in 50’ or more. So far, we seem to be staying put.

Dale took the dinghy in to see if we could check in but, you guessed it! They were closed. Well, at least we can walk around the town tomorrow as there are no car rentals and try to check in and out on Monday.

Deshaies, Guadeloupe
16.18.477N
61.47.871W

Since we were still in the same spot as when we went to bed last night, we figured that it was safe to go ashore and see what Guadeloupe had to offer.

We knew from our reading that historically, the island has always been French but were somewhat surprised to learn just how few people speak English, unlike the other French islands that we have been to. Luckily, we had a map from our cruise guide and could pretty much find our way to the Customs office up the hill. Since they called it something else, and the office we found was closed, we had to ask around to make sure that we had indeed found what we were looking for. We had; it was just closed. We knew that there was another Customs office in a town further down the coast and since we wanted to tour the island a bit anyway, we took our documentation with us to rent a car so that we could complete the formalities later in the day.

During our LeMans tour de France, my initial impression of the island is how clean it is. The towns are small and quaint and the streets are two lane but everything is very tidy and well kept.

Our first stop was at Jardin Botanique, the local botanical gardens. This was quite possibly one of the most beautiful gardens that I have ever seen. An incredible variety of tropical plants from around the world together with an impressive display of orchids growing in a natural environment were artfully showcased along 12 acres of beautifully manicured grounds. There were also koi ponds, flamingos, parrots with loads of fountains and water gardens tucked in for good measure. A couple of hours vanished in the blink of an eye.

We continued on our drive by heading south along the road that rings the island. An hour or so later, we entered the port city of Basse-Terre where another Customs office is supposed to be. We had our trusty guide with a description of where it was located but had absolutely no luck in locating it. I’m not sure if it’s a French custom or if it’s an island custom, but they close for 2-3 hours for lunch and everything grinds to a halt. Of course, that’s the time we were trying to track down the office. We heard that there was another over at the commercial port and we tried that one as well but of course, it was closed too.

After wasting a couple of hours searching for offices that were either not open or we couldn‘t find, we decided to continue on our journey and hope for the best. Dale enjoyed the twisting and turning roads through the mountains and along the coastline. The little Renault actually registered 45 at one point, so he was having a blast pretending that he was racing in the LeMans.

When early afternoon hadn’t found us very close to the turn off for the waterfalls we were looking for, we decided that it would be best to return the way we had come because we certainly were going to make the full circle around just our half of the butterfly.

We tried once again at the Customs office in Deshaies but it was still closed. We did meet Buddy and Melissa off Indigo Moon from New Orleans camped out on the doorstep. We’d seen their boat in English Harbor the day before. They’re on their way south as well, so we exchanged boat cards and promised to get together soon.

As for Customs, we’ll try again tomorrow.

Deshaies, Guadeloupe
16.18.477N
61.47.871W

Since all matters move on island time, it took a bit longer to clear Customs than Dale would have liked but we still managed to hoist anchor before 10 am and make our move to Guadeloupe.

The winds and waves had calmed since our arrival to Antigua and we motorsailed south until the winds filled in about noon which allowed us to turn the engine off and travel the remaining distance under sail alone.

When we climbed to Shirley Heights a couple of days ago, you could see Guadeloupe and Monserrat in the distance. Today, however, there was a haze that enveloped Guadeloupe and kept it hidden until we were practically on top of it. Monserrat’s volcano maintained a constant plume of smoke over it the entire time we were on Antigua and with the wind out of the south a couple of the days we were here, we had an incredible amount of ash and dirt covering us. We welcomed the rain that came last night, hoping that it would wash the majority of the grit away.

Guadeloupe is shaped like a butterfly and is actually quite large. It is also very mountainous and green with deep harbors. It took a bit of scouting around before we could find a place shallow enough to anchor in. We eventually found a spot in 20’ that did the trick. Deshaies (day-hay) is hardly more than a fishing village and there appears to be only one dock we can tie our dinghy to. As the evening winds whipping around and down the mountains have already begun, we’ll stay aboard tonight to make sure we remain where we dropped our anchor.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

We dinghied to the chandlery this morning to pick up a gallon of muriatic acid for the de-scale job we had planned. After that, we scooted over to the other side of the harbor to see if our mail had arrived and then decided to kill some time until it did at the Nelson Museum.

It was actually pretty informative, particularly since I really don’t know much about the English hero. As I mentioned in an earlier post, he was stationed in English Harbor when he was a young captain. He met his future bride in Nevis, a small island near St. Kitts, and his best man was the future king of England, who’s ship was also stationed in Antigua.

The museum detailed his career and his personal life with pictures and relics, as well as that of the English military in general during that time frame. It was really very nice to be educated in such a manner.

When our mail finally arrived, we went back to the Palace and got down to work. Dale had saved bits and pieces of hoses and managed to concoct a method of cleaning the condenser with the least amount of fumes inside the boat itself.

Since I can’t smell anything anyway, I volunteered for the initial pouring into the hose up in the cockpit which led through a window, down into the area where the compressor is stored. Then Dale would either allow the acid to flow out or block it inside the unit for a few minutes to ‘bathe’ the unit. I’d pour a small amount into a plastic glass, which was more manageable that the gallon jug, then pour that amount into a funnel stuffed into the hose leading to the condenser. I was only mildly alarmed when the liquid started to smoke when I poured it into the glass. Dale assured me that it was just cleaning the glass. Once I got the hang of how much to pour into the funnel without it bubbling back up on me, the remainder of the cleaning process went smoothly.

We ‘bathed‘ it twice and then rinsed thoroughly. The refrigerator does seems to be working better, so we‘ll see how long this lasts.

Now that we have our mail, we‘ll be moving along to Guadaloupe tomorrow. We were talking with Sue and Robert on Sunday‘s Child when we realized that we had neglected to clear out already, so Dale will be making a quick run by Customs before we leave to make sure our papers are in order.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

After we returned from our hike up the mountain, Dale and I went for a quick swim around the boat. It felt good to cool off. Unfortunately, it seems now as if it only served to make my cold worse, so we didn’t do anything today except wait for the refrigeration guy to make a boat call.

We’ve become more and more concerned that our refrigeration just isn’t keeping up. Dale’s back flushed the system and cleaned the filters and pretty much done everything he can think of to make it more efficient. So we called in a dealer representative to have a look.

When the refrigeration guy came out, he measured this and that and then topped it off with a bit more gas. Then he measured everything over again. He came up with the thought that the cooling system probably needed to be cleaned. Not a problem, just go buy some muriatic acid and dump it in; let it sit a few minutes to de-scale, then rinse it out.

Sounds simple enough; we’ll try it tomorrow.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

I’ve still got my cold but am feeling a little better. When Dale suggested a walk up to Shirley Heights on the hill overlooking the harbor after lunch, I figured that I was up to the challenge. Boy was I wrong!

We dinghied to the beach and walked a bit down the road to where the path began. There was a sign over it placed there by the local yachties declaring that it was the path we were looking for and that it was ½ mile to the destination; not a problem. I park my car a ½ mile from the mall to go shopping on a big sale day. What it didn’t say was that it was straight up!

I probably would have had a better chance of obtaining my goal if I had waited until it was cooler in the day, had actually eaten something for lunch, or bothered to have brought the bottle of water I normally carry around in my backpack. But No, this time, I take off at a little after noon, on a 90* day, after taking an antihistamine and without bringing so much as a stick of gum. I literally had to grab tree limbs and rock outcroppings to hoist my fat . . . to pull myself up in certain areas. Other areas would level off but then you’d go around a bend and would be rock climbing again. I was coughing and wheezing trying hack up a lung and sweating like I’d contracted malaria in the deepest darkest jungle.

Dale, of course, was sprinting ahead like a blasted gazelle telling me how he always feels better after he exercises. He actually likes to sweat. If I could have seen him through the waterfall coming off my brow, I would have smacked him. As it was, I just ignored him.

Needless to say, ¾ of the way up, I sat down, gave him the camera and told him to go knock himself out. While sitting there waiting for the spots to clear in front of my eyes, I thought of our son going through BUDS training. How could I expect him to keep getting up when he was tired, if I didn’t give him the genes to do it with? So, I’d catch my breath and start climbing again.

I’d like to tell you that I made it all the way to the top. But I can’t. I did make it to the back of the buildings that we were heading for but Dale was already on his way back down and I wasn’t going to push it since I still had to make my way back down again. I also prayed that James got most of his genes from his mountain goat father.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

Yep, I’ve got a cold. So it was Dale’s turn to read most of the day while I alternated between sleeping in bed and sleeping in the hammock. At one point while in the hammock, I opened an eye just in time to see a boat that had pulled in dangerously close to us yesterday, come drifting behind us, missing us by mere inches.

The people, a family of four, had left it earlier in the day and were nowhere to be found. I yelled for Dale to come up and ran for a boat hook to push them back the way they had come.
There were black clouds coming over the mountain and the wind was beginning to change directions. I noticed that other boats around us were having problems as well. One small boat further to our port side was dragging into shore and a huge catamaran behind us on the starboard side was already on shore.

The catamaran’s captain had gone in to clear customs and the people left on board were desperately trying to kedge themselves off by pulling up on their anchor. One of the women called over and asked if Dale could take her into the harbor so that she could find their captain, which of course, he was more than happy to do. While they were gone the remaining passengers did manage to get themselves off the beach but then they had to re-anchor.

Two other people saw the little boat heading towards shore on our port side. One had thought quickly enough to bring a second anchor with him in a dinghy. He threw it in and handed the end to the second guy who had managed to climb on board and secure it to a cleat. Unfortunately, they were having problems pulling it back out to deeper water.

So here I am watching the cat on the right with a handful of people who were doing a fine job of saving themselves; a little excited maybe, but doing a great job none the less and the little boat on the left that appeared to be stuck in the shallow water and the one right beside us swinging behind us within 6 inches of hitting us each time, which I would push off and then wait for it to arc out and then back again.

But then, here comes Dale, like a knight in shining armor, like Dudley Dooright on his trusty steed, like the Marines to the rescue, zooming across the harbor he circles around the cat and says something to them and zooms right past me to the little boat stuck on the beach and speaks to the two guys wrestling with it. He maneuvers the dink behind the boat and each of them tie their own dinghies to the sides and they rev up their dinghy engines. With the three of their combined engine horsepower, they pushed the little boat into deeper water, where they were able to hold it in place and reanchor using the boat’s own anchor. Then he returned to our boat.

By this time, I’ve put a fender on our port side and have the timing down to where I can watch everyone and still poke the interloper in the side when it gets too close.

When the catamaran captain returned, he takes the boat, all of the passengers and leaves. Dale decides the best course of action for us is to move over a bit since the one getting too close doesn’t have anyone on board and we can’t keep pushing it off until they return. So, in spite of the gusty winds and a well set anchor, we decide to move to give ourselves some extra cushion.

Of course, the second we do lift our anchor, another boat comes into the equation and anchors in the same area we were trying to move to. It doesn’t matter, we need the room. So after three attempts, we finally get the anchor set again, have more room to swing, we’re a little too close to the new guy but not so close as to warrant another shift in location.

Tonight, as I sit here, we’re all in the process of turning 180* in the opposite direction, the people behind us finally returned and noticed that we were farther away. I think they believed that they may have dragged but looked around and seemed satisfied that they were alright. I’m not sure the owners of the little boat that did drag ever learned what happened unless they saw all the footprints on their boat and started asking questions of their neighbors.

But as I say, we’re all in the process of turning again, so we’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

Tax Time! means stay out of Dale’s way. There’s nothing like waiting until the last minute to prepare your taxes.

Not a problem, he had left his hammock up so I grabbed a book, hopped in and read most of the day. I’ve been feeling like I’m trying to catch a cold, so taking a day off appealed to me.

Antigua
English Harbor
17.00.259N
61.45.596W

We hoisted anchor about 8:00 am, unfurled our jib and continued on our journey to English Harbor. The seas appeared to have calmed a bit but the wind was coming more and more out of the south which is not the norm. We entered historical English Harbor and threaded our way to the back just to get the lay of the land, so to speak.

Dale ooo’d and ahh’d over the classic yachts med-moored to the quay while I tried not to bump into any of them. The harbor was pretty full. We decided to head back towards the entrance where there appeared to be more room.

We weaved our way in and out and finally decided upon a spot close to shore in Galleon Bay. We dropped our hook and backed down on it hoping that it wouldn’t catch on any of the old hurricane chains that once crossed the harbor in several areas. It dragged a bit before it finally caught and held. We were close to one boat but hoped that we had allowed enough swing room.

The difficult part of estimating where to anchor is that the water in this harbor has a movement of its own. It rises and falls with the swell and has the normal ebb and flow of the tide but it also rocks back and forth. You could sit in the cockpit and watch the boats ride up on their anchors and then fall back. When Dale jumped in to check ours, it was essentially a few feet from our bow, regardless of the 100’ we let out and backed down on. At least the fluke was dug in.

While Dale went to check us in, I stayed back to keep an eye on things. As it turned out, we were fine.

When he returned, we dinghied in for a tour of the old English dockside where a young 26 year old Capt. Horacio Nelson had once served. They’ve done a fine job maintaining the buildings, with signs outside of each one describing what it had been originally designed for. They still have the winches used to careen boats for cleaning and the rock slips used to do repair work. There were massive stone pillars still standing which used to support a sail loft; kind of like a barn on stilts. As I understand it, the ships would pull into the slip built beneath the building and craftsmen could work on the sails without having to haul them up and down the mast. There was even a sign placed on the spot where two lieutenants dueled over who was the most senior.

We searched out a couple of internet cafés and as soon as our taxes are done we’ll make a run in to connect and keep Uncle Sam happy.

Antigua
Hermitage Bay
17.05.197N
61.53.709W

We’re going to chalk this day up to gaining experience. We hoisted our anchor at 6:30 am and eased through the reefs and out into the Caribbean Sea. We rounded between St. Kitts and Nevis through the area known as ‘the Narrows’. We threaded our way through the reefs bordering the islands on the north and entered into the Atlantic Ocean. An amazing thing is that you can see where the waters meet in certain areas.

Once out into the Atlantic, the seas were confused (meaning they were coming from various directions.) The weather reports had indicated that the winds and seas would moderate during the week from their normal 17-20kts and 4-6’ heights. They didn’t moderate. We had the normal winds and seas, except that the waves were wind driven from one direction and swell driven in another. It made for the occasional 8’ wave that would smash into us sending gushing water over our bow and through our less than watertight hatches. One wave actually hit at an angle that sent water up over the bow with enough force to send it up the dodger and over the hard top. It was raining salt water! What didn’t go over the hard top, went down the companion way. As Dale shut the hatch to the companion way, he said that it was a little like shutting the barn door after the horses have gone.

I guess because it was day light and I could see what was happening, the washing machine action didn’t bother me. Since it only happened once, the salt water rain didn’t bother me. Dale was visibly nervous. Finally I just asked, since I assumed I was missing something I should be worried about. He was usurping my position as the Nervous Nelly in the family!

As it turned out, he was upset about our time schedule. He had estimated that we would be traveling at the same speed that we had made in traveling from St. Barts to St. Kitts, or at the very least we could motorsail at 6kts. With the washing machine action, we were in the 5.5 range and couldn’t sail on a more direct route which would put us very close to dusk when we arrived. No room for error.

So we motor sailed the entire way. He asked me what I had done with his wife, the one who didn’t like pounding into the waves or listing more than 20 degrees. Dunno, I’m sure she’s here somewhere, I was busy reading the cruising guides about our next adventure and the Palace seemed to be doing just fine. Since I wasn’t sitting down below, I didn’t hear the pounding hull or feel the water dripping from the hatches.

Another matter on his mind was that the watermaker had developed an airlock from the rough ride. Something that he easily rectified as soon as we anchored, but something he hadn’t encountered or thought about before. Normally, when the engine is running, we’re either making water or cooling the refrigerator.
As it turned out, it was a little before 3pm when we reached Antigua and started coasting down the west side heading for English Harbor on the south side. It was going to be close. We grabbed the guides and started looking for alternative harbors to pull into that would be safe and comfortable with the current wind and wave conditions.

As it turned out, the one we selected (Hermitage Bay, within Five Islands Harbor, if you‘re checking the guides) really didn’t have too much written about it but we could see a couple of boats already anchored in it as we sailed by. As of this writing, its been great. A quiet bay, nice beach, no bugs, not too much swell, not crowded; works for me!

Tomorrow, we’ll clear into Antigua in English Harbor and then set about checking out the local sights. They should be gearing up for Antigua Race Week at the end of April, so things should be starting to liven up. With any kind of luck, we’ll see the vintage yachts come in but be gone before it gets too crowded and crazy for the mega yacht racers that draw the crowds.

St. Kitts
Whitehouse Bay
17.15.015N
62.39.507W

Last evening we decided to deploy a swell bridle to keep us pointed into the swell and keep from rocking so much. I’m glad we did. The poor boat ahead of us was rocking from gunnel to gunnel each time we checked our position. At first light this morning, it was gone.

Midmorning we moved to our present location at Whitehouse Bay about an hour away from Basseterre (by boat). After dropping our hook in 20’ of water and making sure that it was set, we snorkeled over to a place where a ship had gone aground in about 14’ of water. There was enough left of it to see the propeller, shaft, bottom of the hull and various other parts, plus a few things that didn‘t belong to the wreck. Rails from the railroad and a railroad cart; a couple of engines that clearly weren’t big enough to turn the monstrous prop. What was odd, was the eerie feeling I got from swimming over it. Dale and I always seek out old wrecks to dive but this was the first time I just wanted to get away from it.

Later, we went to the other side of the bay and dove the 17th Century shipwreck that was uncovered 4 years ago when a hurricane swept through; found in about 12 feet of water. The timbers that are still present must have been incredibly thick when they were originally set into the ship as they still appear to have some depth to them. In fact, I thought that there appeared to be another layer to the timbers we were looking at but the site has already been excavated by archeologists, so I‘m sure they checked deeper than what can been seen. No creepy feelings here, thank heavens.

Whitehouse Bay is quiet and secluded. The hills in front of us look like what I imagine California looked like a couple of hundred years ago. Late afternoon we watched cattle and goats grazing the hillside, then come down to the water for a quick wade. Most of the day it was just us and another boat with the occasional snorkel excursions but as evening fell, three other boats came into our little harbor. We watched the sun set and hoped for a green flash; none today.

Tomorrow, we’ll point our bow towards Antigua.

Basseterre, St. Kitts
17.17.414N
62.42.761W

What a day! After a night of rocking from side to side, this morning we were awaken by a horn at 5:15am. Any horn in an anchorage tends to brings everyone topside in a hurry. The closest that we can figure out is that it was something from the commercial docks that we are anchored near.

In any event, when we eventually did get up, the Queen Mary 2 was docked right behind us. That is one big boat. In order for us to get to the dinghy dock, we had to pass either in front of her, well within the 500’ security circle, or behind her, out in unprotected waters. We took our chances and passed about 150’ in front of her, keeping as close to the rocks as possible without running into them ourselves. We moved slow and kept our hands in plain sight. All of this was unnecessary since there didn’t appear to be any type of security anyway.

In St. Thomas, a security patrol boat had come zooming out in our direction when we came in the channel behind the cruise ships. In my opinion, no where near invading the 500’ circle, so we were being extra cautious today.

Anyway, we tied off the dinghy and while Dale went in one direction for a trash bin, I went in the other to the Port entry to sign us up for a round the island tour. By the time Dale met up with me, we were teamed with Bill & Christine from England and Jean & Irving from California.

With the Queen Mary being so large, the two couples hadn’t met each other and were doing the ‘where did you get on’ and ‘what table sitting are you’ introductions. When it came time for us to answer, we explained that we were from a different ship, pointed out Gypsy Palace, the little white one to the left, and that we only had one table sitting. Bless their hearts, it took a bit for it to sink in, but they got a kick out of it when they figured it out.

Mr. Delaney was our taxi (mini bus) driver/tour guide. Mr. Delaney gave us his first name, but as Irving had such a hard time figuring out the name Delaney, by the time he understood Delaney, it was all that I could remember. I referred to him as Mr. Delaney throughout the tour and he never corrected me, so Mr. Delaney it is.

We drove up and down a few streets in Basseterre and then out into the countryside. The streets are two lane but without shoulders or medians, they seemed very narrow.

Mr. Delaney was very good about explaining the history and culture of the island as we drove along. Such as: in the old days, the people would bathe and wash their clothes in the rivers and streams that flowed down from the rainforests. Nowadays, however, they have diverted all of the water into catchment systems so that the fresh water isn’t lost to the sea. Now the bridges cross rivers and streams of green areas. That is, until the water overflows the catchment systems and washes down the old rivers and the people go out to bathe and wash their clothes in the streams again.

Apparently, the government of St. Kitts has offered incentives to the less fortunate who live in the shanties that border the old streams, deep in the valleys where they flow. Unfortunately, as soon as they can coax the inhabitants into nicer low income housing, others move into the ones abandoned. Let’s see, houses deep in the valley with tropical rain forests shading them from the sun with free running water; sounds like an up hill battle to me.

We also toured the workshop and gardens of the woman who developed batik designs, Caribelle Batiks, located at the foot of the rainforest. Her designs and method of coloring sea island cotton are still being produced at her workshop, demonstrated and sold to the busloads of tourists that come to her doors. Her gardens were as spectacular as her designs and obviously where she derives her inspiration.

Next, we were off to tour Brimstone Hill which is a British built fort at the top of one of the higher elevations on the island. The French eventually captured it by starving the British out instead of fighting. Since no shots were fired and the British surrendered with full honor, it was declared a non-war and the British were shipped off to another of their islands. Some time later, (after it was passed back and forth between the French and British a couple of more times) the fort was abandoned, after which it fell into disrepair and vandalism. Eventually, its historical value was recognized and it has since begun a major restoration. I particularly liked the use of all of the extra cannons in the walls as upright posts among all of the stones.

We were shown the black rocks and black sand beaches indicative of the volcanic origins of the island. Mr. Delaney said that there are no roads that lead to the top of the volcano but that all day hiking tours could be arranged. Since none of us were up to that task, he told us that he had been to the top of the volcano himself and described how you could boil potatoes in the lake located inside the “dormant” cone. He said that you could also see crevices where the lava was still visible and that the sulfur smell around Brimstone Hill emanates from an off shore volcanic vent. Between you and me, that doesn’t sound very “dormant” to me.

Another observation was that the green that is so evident from far away is from the sugar cane growing everywhere. However, as of last year, there is no market for their crops. What grew this year is left over from the roots of last year. The St. Kitts government is trying to decide what crop to plant in its place. They encourage the farmers to produce more fruits and vegetable in order to make the island more self sufficient but offer no market for what they grow. It should be interesting to see what happens here. It would seem that they are on the brink of a great change to their economy but hopefully not to the detriment of the beauty of the island itself.

Basseterre, St. Kitts
17.17.414N
62.42.761W
We were flying low most of today. We slipped our mooring line this morning at 7 am, put a reef in the main and one in the jib and headed south towards St. Kitts. The cruising guide called Saba, St. Eustatius, St. Kitts, Nevis and Monserrat, the islands that brush the clouds. Clearly, at one time, they all had been volcanoes; Monserrat being the only one to remain active.

The wind was blowing its normal 17-25kts but it was directly on our beam so we were screaming along at 7-8.5kts. Dale kept adjusting the sails, since he knows I prefer not to have my home completely on its side.

Five hours later we reached the island of St. Kitts and started to round the island to the west so that we could sail down its southern coast. We had marveled on our approach how much it reminded us of Hawaii. A tremendous volcano rising out of the sea with beautiful green hillsides covered in sugar cane and pastures gently reaching back to the water. Old sugar mills and their chimney stacks made of stone dotted the flatter areas. Little villages of pastel colored houses nestled in the valleys, each village with its own church steeple rising above the rooflines.

All of a sudden, the winds picked up from 20-25kts to 34kts sustained for about 4 minutes. The autopilot was on, so the Palace rounded up into the wind. The noise was incredible; sails flapping, lines slapping, the wind howling. When the wind started to calm, Dale brought us back to our course. Then there was nothing. Obviously, the wind was directed rather abruptly around the sides of the volcano until the mountain completely obscured the wind from us. We eventually brought our sails in and motored the remaining distance.

We anchored around 2 pm and dinghied into Port Zante. There is quite a bit of construction being done here. The port facility is new, although only the customs and tourist offices were located on scene. Immigration is still located at the Police Station in the middle of town. The big plan is to have everything in one place. When the construction is finished, it should be a beautiful entry port. It has already been discovered by the cruise lines as one was here when we first arrived.

After checking in, we walked around town a bit. They have their own version of Piccadilly that they call The Circus. We sat in an upstairs café and watched the ‘circus’ of cars and people negotiating their way around the large clock in the middle of a round about. Their cars have both right and left handed steering but the driving is strictly on the left.

We also found a café that has free internet for their customers. Tomorrow, we’ll dinghy in again to be their customers.

St. Barts,
Anse du Colombier
17.55.457N
62.52.191
Today we read books and relaxed. The wind was blowing like stink, so we were grateful that we were snug in this harbor. There were a lot more boats that came in for the day, amused themselves on the beach and then left before dark.

The Chinese junk is back again. So is one of the larger yachts. I couldn’t even hazard a reliable guess as to how large it is; well over 100’. Anyway, it came in fairly close to drop its anchor. I took a picture when it was close to a regular boat to compare sizes. I guess it’s all relative as to what your idea of cruising is.

I finished the day by giving Dale a haircut. He is now officially sporting a pony tail; about 2 inches long. (It’s a very small pony.)

Tomorrow we’ll head to St. Kitts and see what’s happening there and to show off his new do.

St. Barts,
Anse du Colombier
17.55.457N
62.52.191
We spent today cleaning the Palace. While Dale dug out the ‘Surface Dive’ hookah and cleaned the bottom of the boat, I dug out the mop, broom and sponges to clean the inside. Four hours later, I was done and Dale was still on the bottom.

After listening to that little motor for 4 hours, it was easy to get Dale’s attention; I turned it off. A minute or two later, he surfaced. I figured that 4 hours was long enough to be underwater. The Lock Ness Monster could have hidden in the crevices on his hands and feet they were so deeply wrinkled, but the bottom of the boat was clean. He informed me that he had just finished. (Yes dear, I know.)

We spent the rest of the afternoon just relaxing and watching the other boats. We have a couple of families around us. We also have a couple of mega yachts on the fringes.

The most interesting boat was a gaff rigged, two masted, Chinese junk. From behind it looks like a barrel with a flat top placed on it with railings around. It slowly putt-putted it’s way in, stayed for a couple of hours and then, slowly putt-putted it’s way back out again. It looked to be a unique day-sailer that people hire for rides.

St. Barts,
Anse du Colombier
17.55.457N
62.52.191

While I attended to finances in the internet café, Dale checked us out of customs in anticipation of our departure from St. Martin and entry into St. Bart’s.

A couple of hours later, we hoisted our anchor and motorsailed out of Marigot Bay and headed north around the island. We turned off the motor as we rounded between St. Martin and the little island of Ilet Tintamarre and sailed the rest of the way to St. Bart’s on a single tack. Although it felt as if we were speeding along, we were only doing between 4.5-5kts most of the way.

The Leeward Islands are much like the Virgin Islands and Bahamas in that once you get here, they are all in line of sight of each other, just a little further apart. In the Virgins, you can sail from one end to the other in a day. Here, it may take you the better part of the day to reach the next island, but you can see it on the horizon before you leave.

We took turns reading the cruising guides about each island and although I’d like to visit each one for a day, we’ll probably just see a couple on our way down and save the rest for on our way back.

We entered Anse du Colombier about 3:30 pm and took a mooring. The cruising guide indicated that we didn’t have to check into customs immediately as St. Bart’s only has one location and sometimes its easier to check in and out at the same time by the time you reach it.

Anse du Colombier is a nice little u-shaped bay; not crowded but not isolated either. Since we’ve arrived on the weekend, we’ll probably stay until Monday, then move over to Gustavia where we can check in and out on the same day.

Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W
Today I sought out an internet café and spent the better part of the morning there catching up on mail, bills and blogs. Sounds simple enough but when you factor in the time that it takes to dinghy in, walk to the site, check in and wait to be authorized to connect, it’s a morning shot quicker than you can say Bill Gates.

We stopped at a bistro for a quick bite to eat before heading back to the Palace. We’ve really enjoyed the French pastries here but I truly prefer the Puerto Rican ‘water bread’ for making sandwiches.

When we arrived back at the boat, there was a message from Michelle on our satellite telephone telling us that one of our accounts wasn’t recognizing our checks. Instead of heading on to the next island, I guess this means another trip back to the internet café to see what’s going on.