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.

Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W

After reading the cruising guides and walking through town, we couldn’t see where there was anything more for us to do in our little corner of St. Martin. So, we rented a tiny car and drove around the island today.

We pulled off the main two way road and drove on a single lane road to a high peak on the island. If someone came towards you on the road, one of you had to stop and pull off for the other to pass (even with tiny little cars). When we reached the top, we walked along a foot path to a location where you could see just about the entire island of St. Martin. We could see the islands of Anguilla to the north, St. Barth’s, and Saba (island not rock) to the south in the distance.

Next, we followed the cruise guide directions to a ‘must see’ place. We drove to the end of a paved road that lead to a dirt road and when it ended, you got out and walked until you found a little restaurant on the beach. The restaurant offered more than the usual hamburger/hotdog entrees and catered to families. They had shovels and pails, swings and slides for the kids, as well as the thatched covered picnic tables or colorful umbrellas shading coordinated lounges for the adults. The guide had listed it as one of the author‘s favorite places. I’m glad we searched it out; good food and not too crowded.

Our next stop was at a butterfly farm. It consisted of a huge garden made up of butterflies’ favorite plants and flowers enclosed with netting to keep the butterflies in and the lizards, frogs, snakes & birds out. There were koi ponds with little bridges and feeding stations where fruit was laid out for the butterflies to drink. We listened to a short talk about how the farm came into existence and the care, feeding and habits of butterflies, snapped a few hundred pictures, then jumped back into our little car and continued our circumnavigation of St. Martin.

We continued around the Dutch side, observed 5 cruise ships docked at their piers and stopped at a marina where the big boys stay. Remember when I told you about the Atlantis Marina in Nassau? La Palapa is St. Martin’s version. At least this time we didn’t embarrass ourselves by pulling in and being the littlest boat in the marina. We walked the docks with Dale saying “look at the size of those winches” every couple of slips. (Winch envy is really very scary.)

Eventually, we ended up where we started from, with a side trip to a hammock shop Dale had seen when we first started our trip. He doesn’t like my hammock, so now he has one of his own that won’t leave diamond patterns on his delicate skin. He has it strung between the roller furling and the mast where he can lie up there and dream of big, grease guzzling winches to his heart‘s content.

Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W

Ahh another day in paradise. Today we climbed to the top of the hill to see Ft. Louis, a 16th century fort with commanding views of the harbor and the island of Anguilla next door. Unfortunately, I forgot to take my camera and I certainly wasn’t going to climb that hill again for the panoramic photo-op; it wasn’t far, just straight up. A hospital was built just below it. I wondered if that was to save time and money on tourists.

When we came down from our hike up the hill, we dropped by the pharmacy in town to see if I could get a refill on some medicine. I’m not sure if it was because Dale was standing right next to me explaining in physician vernacular exactly what I needed or the fact that I was sweating bullets, but there didn’t seem to be any problem in getting the refill.

We walked to a nearby corner café to sit, nibble our croissants and people watch. There was quite the mixture of personalities and an incredible diversity in colorful apparel. Some were clearly off the cruise lines that pulled into the Dutch side and bused over to the French side. Some came down from the resorts on the hillsides. Others were local. Some were Rastafarians. Some were merchants. Some were Rastafarian merchants. Some were school children in their uniforms. Some were gendarmes in their uniforms. There were cruisers like us; not local in any stretch of the imagination but not exactly pale/sunburned tourists either. The streets are narrow here and the cars, for the most part, are tiny. All of these people and cars and scooters came by that corner just so that we could see them. Amazing.

We walked through the town stopping at various stores that caught our attention and then over to where a marina was located on the interior part of the island. We chose a restaurant on the waterfront for lunch and enjoyed a wonderful meal.

On our way back to the Palace, we commented on more than one occasion that Michelle would love it here. There is a shoe store on every block with shoes in every color, decoration and heel selection known to man.

Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W

We arrived in St. Martin’s waters about 3:30 am sailing most of the way at 6 and 7 kts. I say most of the way because when we came to within 8 miles of our waypoint, we decided to do zigzags to kill some time; we aren‘t particularly fond of entering an unfamiliar harbor after dark. Then when the wind died, we turned on the engine pointed the Palace in the direction of the current and motored at 2 knots, not going anywhere.

When Dale came on watch at 5 am, he increased our speed to about 4 knots and we slowly crept into Margot Bay, the French side of St. Martin. As day broke, we turned and entered the harbor, found the nearest shallow spot and dropped our hook.

As luck would have it, the boat closest to us had an anchor Nazi on board who came out in her underwear and assumed the universal ‘I’m not happy’ pose (hands on hips, scowling in the direction of the offending party). Unfortunately, what she met was another ‘hands on hips’ person who desperately needed some shuteye. I shouted over to her that we only needed some sleep. I don’t know who was more surprised, Dale or me. I’m not usually the confrontational type.

In any event, we didn’t move the boat but dove for our pillows. Dale slept topside just in case we did swing closer in their direction than we had allowed for. I went to bed. About 3 hours later, we got up and moved the boat closer into the town and re-anchored.

We took the dinghy in to clear customs (conveniently located at the dinghy dock). Wahoo!! It didn’t cost anything; just the customary paperwork. Neat trash bins lined the street in front of the dinghy dock; more French restaurants than you can shake a fork at within walking distance; grocery stores, laundries and pharmacies all within a couple of blocks; this is a boaters heaven.

We spotted a restaurant a little off the street with a sign declaring it as a new enterprise. We climbed up the steps to see what they had to offer and stayed for lunch. The food was wonderful and, unlike the reputation of French restaurants in the States, plentiful.

For some crazy reason, we were still tired, so we headed back to the Palace for another nap and will save our sight seeing for another day.

Anegada Passage
18.13.372N
63.39.005W

We tried to sleep in this morning in anticipation of our crossing but instead, we arose early and kept ourselves busy by reading the cruising guides for St. Martin and becoming familiar with the charts of the area. Since I was able to access the internet from the boat, I took advantage of the service one more time.

Later, while we were sitting in the cockpit reading, a couple of boats caught our attention. They were crisscrossing each other and at first seemed to be racing for a point somewhere near us. When they came within feet of us, we really took notice. That‘s about the time we figured out that it was a group of charter boaters learning how to sail in 1 easy lesson. A group of three boats, 2 catamarans and one monohull, all of which were in the 36-40’ range, were being wrangled by one instructor on a radio zipping forwards and backwards; coming within inches of them himself in the boat he was on.

First, they all appeared to be trying to snare mooring balls. They would run over them, back over them, drift down over them; how they kept from fouling their props, I’ll never know. Next they were transferring people back and forth from one boat to the next. For the life of us, Dale and I never could figure out the purpose of that exercise. They were still in the midst of their careening all over the harbor, when it came time for Dale and I to leave. We never got to see the man over board drill, which probably would have been worth sticking around for.

Don’t get me wrong, Dale and I have chartered boats too; some of our best friends charter boats. However, I liken it to driving on a crowded street with a car that has “student driver” signs pasted all over it but only one person in the car. Chances are it’s the instructor at the wheel but you still have a tendency to keep an eye on it.

In any event, when it was time for us to leave, we dropped our mooring and scooted out between Saba Rock and Virgin Gorda before the sailing class came in our direction again. There’s a shallow, narrow passage between the two islands and an opening in the reef further out that saved us about an hour in transit time.

Once we cleared the reef, we turned toward St. Martin, unfurled our sails, set a course and have sailed the whole way doing between 6 and 7.5 kts. This is what I enjoy. The beautiful water, a steady breeze, slow swells that gently lift you up and down, the only clouds are too high to pose a threat; what can I say? Another day in paradise.

Virgin Gorda, BVI
Bitter End
18.30.092N
64.21.589W

Happy Birthday Valerie! We love you.
Happy 50th Gerry! We love you too but Valerie is cuter.

Today we sailed! Actually, we raced but the two boats we were competing against didn’t know it.

We left Trellis Bay about 9:30 am and once out into the channel, we unfurled the sails and turned off the engine. We only had about 15 miles to travel, so it didn’t matter if it took us all day. As it turned out, the light winds filled in and we had a nice sail for most of the trip.
We slowed to a crawl as we rounded Virgin Gorda to the north where the mountains shielded us from the wind but then our speed picked up again when we came from behind the mountain to get the first gusts of a squall developing.

We had originally thought that we would anchor at the Bitter End Yacht Club but with the skies darkening we changed our minds and took a mooring. The bar that had been located on Saba Rock, the tiny island next to the Yacht Club, has expanded to include a restaurant, hotel and gift shop and has a nice dinghy dock running the breadth of the front. The Yacht Club itself appears to have expanded a bit but still looks pretty much the same as it did 12 years ago with the exception of an expanded dinghy dock and the nurse sharks in the pen are quite a bit smaller. We visited both establishments to explore a little and then returned to the Palace before the rain came.

We only caught bits and pieces of the weather information on the single side band this morning but we caught the information that the weather is pretty unsettled for the next week. Light winds except in the slow moving squalls where the wind gusts can be pretty extreme.

This evening as I sit here, the wind is howling; 20 kts with gusts up to 30 kts. The rain moved through more quickly than I thought it would but the gusts have continued for a couple of hours now. I’m glad we not out in it.

We watched as a sailboat came in after dark in the midst of the wind and rain and tried several times before they were able to snag a mooring. We guessed that there were probably only 2 people on board, like us, and that the one on the foredeck was juggling a flashlight, a boathook, a mooring line and trying to direct the helmsman which way to steer in the gusting winds. They were not having fun. We empathized with them greatly.

We’ll download the weather tomorrow before we make our decision as to whether we’ll take off tomorrow afternoon for St. Martin or sit here for another couple of days.
As always, wish us luck and good weather!

Beef Island, BVI
Trellis Bay
18.26.848N
64.31.891W

After a leisurely breakfast, we hoisted our anchor and left Charlotte Amalie Harbor and eased our way out into the ocean. We tried to radio Gate and Darby on Nicolino but no one answered. Dale made a quick check to make sure the dripless seal was still dripless and then off we went.

The winds were light, so we were forced to motor all of the way to Beef Island. Once into the Sir Francis Drake Channel, the wind picked up a bit and we were able to unfurl our jib to add another knot to our speed. At one point, we were making about 9 kts. over the ground in the relatively flat seas. We weren’t really sailing but I enjoyed our transit in the sunshine where we passed two “races”. One with spinnakers (the big colorful sails) and the other was with little day sailers.

We pulled into Trellis Bay about 2 pm and easily found a mooring ball. I was entertained throughout the remainder of the day by a hawksbill turtle who would poke his head out of the water to give us a cross eyed look. I snapped a picture of him during one of his circles around us and wondered which one of us was on display.

Several young boys on the charter boat next to us caught a small shark on their fishing line. They brought it up to the back of their boat, called for a camera, posed with it and then released it back into the harbor.

When dusk fell, we went in for dinner at The Last Resort and met Dave and Joanne who were chartering for the first time in the BVI’s. Though we sat at different tables, we enjoyed a conversation with them throughout the evening.

Tomorrow we’ll make our way to the Bitter End in Virgin Gorda where we’ll wait for a weather window to make an overnight crossing to St. Martin.

St. Thomas, USVI
18.20.250N
64.55.584W

There are several phrases that I really don’t want to hear during our Sabbatical and one of them is ‘we’re taking on water’.

The day started as planned. I had pedaled my way to the bowling alley to renew our Florida registrations and see if the insurance company had acknowledged receiving our survey and then returned to the marina. During that time, Dale had loaded the remaining items out of the dock box, his bicycle and had washed, dried and folded the last of the laundry (what a guy!). We loaded my bicycle and then backed out of our slip and moved to the fuel dock where we pumped as much fuel into our tanks and jerry cans as the Palace would hold. We spoke at length with the base CO, who had come down to wish us well on our trip, about the fate of Roosey . Then about noon, we radio harbor control and eased our way out of the harbor that will always be dear to us.

We passed through some rain sqalls but no thunder or lightening associated with them. Dale and I both noticed on separate occasions that the bilge pump would cycle emptying a good amount of water but with the rain, dismissed it.

By the time we had reached the end of Vieques a couple of hours later, the rain had passed and sunshine ruled the rest of the day. However, the bilge pump kept cycling. By the time we reached St. Thomas, Dale had become concerned and went down to take a look. That’s when I heard “we’re taking on water”. I mentally told myself not to panic.

Dale checked the usual culprits, the watermaker hose, loose strainers, etc. and came back that the dripless seal on the shaft was leaking, significantly but the bilge pump was keeping it in check. Since it was already a little after 5pm, it was more important to get into Charlotte Amalie and anchor rather than stop to attempt a repair. Needless to say, I didn’t slow the boat until we were well inside the entrance. With both the sail and the motor, we were traveling in excess of 7 kts at times.

We saw Nicolino anchored nearby and try to radio them. No response. We waved to Gate who was sitting on the back but he didn’t seem to understand that we were trying to radio him. We kept going.

We crept through the narrow and shallow Haulover cut and dodged a taxiing sea plane making its way to its hanger. We were somewhat surprised when we rounded the turn into Charlotte Amalie to see all of the boats pointed south towards the main channel, instead of the usual north or east. We wound our way though the anchored boats and dropped our hook in our favorite area.

Dale no sooner had the anchor set, when he went below to raid his tool box and disappeared into our aft stateroom. A few minutes later he came out to say that the leak had been stymied. He sopped up the remaining water and returned his tools to their home in the big red box in the front stateroom.

I think that I’ve said this before: I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t have confidence in Dale’s abilities and I will never complain about the amount of tools he has on board. He saved the day.

Roosey Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W

I’m sure you can tell by now that I love my computer. It’s a complex toy that I enjoy playing with. When it works. When it doesn’t work and I know that it’s operator error, it can be the most frustrating piece of hardware on earth.

For example, when we received an e-mail from our insurance company indicating that they wanted a recent survey on our boat before renewing our policy, it should have been a simple act of scanning a copy of the one we had done last fall (thank God and Jim Campbell) and e-mailing it back to them. Except that when I connected my new HP laptop to my old HP printer, the computer wouldn’t recognize that I had connected it. What a pain in the patoot!

Since we hadn’t brought along the CD containing the printer drivers that came with the old printer, we had to pack both the laptop and the printer into backpacks and schlep them into the bowling alley to connect both of them to the internet to download the software. Even that was more problematic than it should have been. The long (an hour for the download) and the short (Dale’s temper by the time we were completely done) of it, is that once the laptop and printer were happily clicking in the same direction, I was able to scan the document and forward it on to our insurance company (another hour of uploading the information). The things we do to keep that particular industry happy.

With the morning completely gone, we started our trek back to the boat. Along the way, the base CO spotted us and flagged us down to tell us that the package we had been waiting for was in his office. It had been mis-delivered (since it was clearly addressed to the marina) a few days before.

We quickly went through it and found 3 of our 5 Florida registration renewals; one of them was for the Palace, so I’ll be heading back to the bowling alley for one more connection before we leave. As I started out, when my computer and I are working as a cohesive unit, you can hardly tell that we’re out of the country. However, when there is a break in communication between my computer and its operator, I can tell that we are in the farthest reaches of the world without Cherie and the IT crew to back me up.

Roosey Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W

There was still no mail for us today, so we pedaled our way to the Bowling Alley and uploaded the blog posts, made sure our bills were paid and answered our e-mails. The rest of the day we spent rearranging book shelves and cupboards. Unfortunately, this makes for a boring entry.

We did finally hear from Rainbow Rider. They made it to Luperon, DR. At this rate, we won’t see them until we make the turn to come back. I guess that’s better than not seeing them at all.