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.