CHAP XII. CANOUAN - TOBAGO CAYS - UNION ISLAND - PALM ISLAND
CHAP XIII. Carriacou -Grenada -Los Testigos- Margarita -Coche -Cumaná
On the 17th October, around
noon, Ragnar begins her voyage around the world. We are five on board: Skip the
skipper, Barbara the ship’s mate and Dani the ship’s boy as crew and Jaime
and Rosa, Dani’s parents as guests who accompany us on our first leg.
The preparations were extensive
and we are feeling relieved to finally get away and be able tolet go the stress
of the last months.
Two weeks ago, Ringu Tulku
Rimpoche from Sikkim was on board to bless the boat and us. And together with
the good wishes and prayers from Lama Yeshe Rimpoche, abbot and good friend of
Samyelibg monastery in Scotland, we feel completely protected for the trip.
After saying goodbye to our
dear children and friends we slowly motor out of Palma de Mallorca boat yard
until also the last link – a toilet paper roll between Dani and his sister
Monica – is torn…
The sea is smooth like a mirror,
the sky a little hazy; it is warm, every now and then the sun breaks through.
Sometimes there is a breeze, sometimes it is completely calm and we have to turn
on the engine. At night a h get out of the way of the shipping lanes along the
uge orange full moon rises above
the horizon. We sail by the SE coast of Ibiza
and Formentera in the direction of Gibraltar.
Jaime and Skip catch their
first fish with our fancy new fishing gear: a beautiful tuna fish of about 3 kg
that supply us with a tasty dinner.
Every now and then schools of
dolphins, always in pairs, play around the bow of the boat and little greenish
birds land on deck or in Dani’s hair to take a rest.
On Thursday (Oct. 20) we sail
into Cartagena harbor, have breakfast on calle Mayor and visit the Roman
amphitheatre. Then we continue in the direction of Cabo de Gata, North of Almería.
The wind from the SW, force 5 gusting to 6, is not very advantageous for us, we have to tack a lot and have to get out of the way of the shipping lanes along the coast. Thus we approach the notorious Cabo de Gata only very slowly and with a lot of fatigue. We take refuge and anchor in a beautiful quiet little bay in the lee of Cabo de Gata and have a very peaceful night after a very stressful day. On Saturday morning we finally make it around the cape . Just past it we find an abandoned Zodiac and take it in tow:
obviously
a “patera” that Africans use to cross the strait, often without success…
There are several half full cans of
fuel in it, some frayed sneakers, some torn T-shirts…In Aguadulce near Almerïa
we hand it over to the Guardia Civil who don’t seem too pleased about it;
there are many of those boats floating around, and for them taking them in means
hassle and a lot of paperwork.
On Sunday we sail towards
Motril, then to Benalmádena near Malaga, where Dani’s parents say goodbye to
us. We have had a very pleasant time together and feel a little sad to
have to continue without them now towards Gibraltar and the Canary
Islands.
Sorry for not sending any more news since we left Málaga área. We
sent a
report from Tenerife, but due to a failure in our software, it never got
onto our website. Also Dani's second-hand laptop broke down, so that we
don't have a ccess toDani's photos until it is repaired..In the meantime
we
will send reports and selected photos from Scott's câmera to Dani's father
by e-mail, who will then put them onto the website.
We left Dani's parents dockside at Benalmadena (Málaga) and sailed to
Gibraltar in a SE wind. We finally saw the Rock with a massive cloud
crowning the top. When we came around Point Europa, we got hit by our first
Gibraltarian howler (when the wind howls from every direction at the same
time). We got down all the sails and motored to the immigration berth, where
they asked us, if we had firearms, cigarettes or bottles of booze on board.
Whick- at the time- was strange, because in G, cigarettes and alcohol are
very cheap. After spending the night anchored next to the airport runway, we
were able
to move to Queen Ann's quarry. We found that G. is a mixture of people from
all over the world- English, Arabs, Jews, Hindus and others- and also very
very British. We spent 3 days exploring the town, the rock, the monkeys and
the military tunnels. We also found the best place to buy charts at G. Chart
Agency, 11ª, Block 5, Watergardens, Gibraltar; email: gibchartag@gibtelecom.net. We spent two hours there picking them out; then they told us
to come back in 4 hours. When we got there, there were two clerks behind
tables up to their chins, correcting the charts with tracing paper, pins and
fine-pointed pens. They did a fantastic job and we were happy to have found
them.
Leaving G. on Sunday morning, 30 Oct .in a light SE breeze, cruising along a
t 3.5 knots. When Barbara was on watch she yelled out that something funny
was happening to the water. It was the tidal whirlpool just off the coast of
Tarifa. We were sailing at 4.5 knots through the water and doing 0.5 knots
over the ground backwards. We decided to turn the motor on and get as far
out of the straits as fast as possible in a very light breeze, with a
cluster of dark clouds over the Tarifa coast. After nightfall, all of a
sudden the wind increased from a SE force 2-3 to a SW 8 within 5 minutes and
almost knocked us over. We tried to roll the jib in, but there was too much
wind, so we took it down and it went over board, being dragged in the
water
at 7.5 knots. After a hard struggle we got it on deck and tied down. (Skip
hurt the palm o f his right hand terribly in this chãos- a nasty big, deep
wound in the shape of a ripped cross which took about a month to close
completely and without major problems thanks to homeopathic gunpowder and
Staphysagria pills.) It rained a torrential downpour that we had trouble
seeing each other in the cockpit, Dani hanging on to the tiller for dear
life, almost breaking his arm. After the rain, the wind shifted to the NW
and slowly calmed in force
Then we had 3 days of gentle sailing in a breeze of 2-3 from the NW. On the
night of the 4th day the wind increased to a force 8 from the North and we
reefed down to only the foresail, but couldn't get the topsail down. We ran
for 2 days and 3 nights and then even reefed the foresail and ran through
the night with the boat rolling heavily at 6-8 knots; all these days it was
very difficult or impossible to cook anything. We were on emergency rations
and tried the noodles that we were given on a regatta and decided we were
not hungry. We ended up surviving on apples, cookies, almonds and mejillones
(mussels) out of a can.
In the morning dawn of Sunday 6 Nov. we finally sighted Tenerife and later
motor-sailed into Santa Cruz de Tenerife marina del Atlântico. By then our
topsail was in shreds and entangled with the red Ragnar flag. When we got
alongside the dock, Scott and Torsten were waiting for us and helped us tie
up on the quarry and climb the mast and cut down sail and flag.
Once ashore we took a walk up beautiful green shady streets and were
overwhelmed by so much green, green, green after so much blue. We had na
excellent lunch, roast chicken, in a nice little restaurant in the old town.
On >Monday we checked out chandlery shops trying to buy all the gear to mend
the boat. The next day Barbara and Dani rented a car, getting completely
lost in the maze of Sta. Cruz streets. When they finally made it back to the
boat, we decided to explore the island and find ourselves on top of the
highest mountain and only activevolcano of Spain, El Teide, about 3798m
high! Awe-inspiring and bloody cold and full of white goose-bumped English
people in Bathing suits, high heels and Burberry baseball caps. The
landscape could have been a cowboy western setting: canyons, lava flows,
Indians behind sage bushes, more lava flows, craters, breathtaking.
After coming down from the volcano we decided to drive down through
beautiful and fertile Oratava valley. We guessed it must be lying underneath
us, covered by a thick layer of clouds which didn't lift, so that in the end
we didn't see much of it. On the road we saw a lady with a basket of fresh
cornon her head. We stopped at the next store to buy some, but it was so
freh that it hadn't gotten there yet.. Buit surprise, surprise- the store
had its own vinyard and we biought red and white wine without labels. The
storekeeper proudly told us that it had been trodden by his family's feet
and therefore was very special.Hmmmm.
After arriving back at the boat we cooked up a vegetable soup on the floor
with our new blender. We are not sure if it was the sou por the wine that
tasted the feet, but they were both delicious.
The next day we visited Puerto de la Cruz Botanical Garden with its
spectacular choice of exotic trees from all over the world, among them na incredible Banyan tree. On Friday 11 Nov we leave Sta Cruz harbor for
Radazul marina, some miles further south in order to get fuel and water for
our further trip to the Cape Verde islands, but they tell us that we can't
dock onto the gasstation because it is all clustered up with boats. So we
have to motor all the way back to Sta, Cruz Darsena del pequero again and
stay in the boatyard there over night.
On Saturday 12 Nov we finally sail off towards the Cape Verdes: four of us,
as Torsten finally decided not to come along. We had a roaring run down the
West coast of Tenerife at 8.5-9 knots under stay and main stay sails. The
next seven days was a very pleasant down wind leg all the way to Ilha do
Sal. We caught some tuna and golden mackerel and even had a flying fish land
on deck. On Sunday 20 Nov at sunrise we sighted the volcanoes of Ilha do Sal
and decided to motor-sail so we would get there in daylight.
CHAP III. Sailing around Cabo Verde.
Nice weather and a good tradewind from the NE, course 280 degrees, 6.3 knots
and 2000 nautical miles to go...Nobody says much, I guess we all hope and
pray that everything will go well. During the first 2,3 days we see the one
or other sailboat on the horizon, also headed for the Caribbean, but then we
are completely alone. Wonderful sunrises and sunsets, lots of flying fish,
every now and then one lands on deck. Dolphins playing around our bow. The
days pass and we are quite busy with watches, cooking, repairing (pumps,
lines, leaks etc.), cleaning, writing etc. The weather is steady- clear
skies in the daytime, clouds and some rainshowers at night. We sail an
average of 12o miles per day. On the 9 Dec, a wonderful sunny and cloudless
day we get into a complete calm; the water looks like oil and Dani and Scott
jump into the inkblue 5000meter deep ocean and have a swim. But the calm
worries us a bit, too: what if it lasts? Do we have enough food/ water for a
long time? We start rationing the water, washing and cooking with seawater.
Our vegetables are rotting away at an incredible speed, but at least we have
plenty of cereals and legumes.
On Dec 12, Scott catches the biggest fish of his life: a beautiful big
dolphin fish (mahi-mahi) that gives us a good tasty mealfull of proteins. On
Dec 13 we still have 970 nm to go, half of the way.Reason to celebrate with
a chocolate cake and cream!! Two days later we encounter "salt whistle",
a
German yacht on her way to Martinique. They left Tenerife on Nov 29 and got
into a hurricane with 71 knots of wind! We are glad that we avoided this
storm sailing along South of it and watching its threatening Northern edge.
On the 14th day we can receive a Barbados radio station playing Christmas
carols Caribbean style with steel drums and in Calypso rhythm...Weird and
exhilarating. Still 240 nm to go to Port St. Chartles on Barbados. We want
to get there soon! We are a little exhausted sometimes, moods swing from
meditative to fed up to merry and excited. When the sea is rough and the
waves high and coming from all directions and the boat rolls like mad from
side to side, we stumble around like drunken sailors. Kettle, knives,
porridge fly through the air, coffee gets spilled, legs bruised. Thank God
nobody gets seasick!
On Dec 19 early in the morning we see an auspicious double rainbow in front
of our bow- awesome. Everything will go well... Dec. 2o: 110 nm to go!
Wednesday Dec 21 at around 9 in the morning we are rounding the North tip of
Barbados and gettinmg hit by a rain squall that makes the island disappear.
We all put on our foul weather gear, only to arrive in close-by Port St.
Charles in hot sunny weather. People must have been wondering where we came
from...
At the entrance of the port we are told by radio to wait because the Customs
officer has not arrived yet. After an hour and no further word we ask
permission to tie up to a mooring where we stay for another hour until we
are allowed to sail into port. The Customs, Port, Health and Immigration
officers are all very friendly and give us a warm welcome. We are told by
the harbor master that we are too small a boat to tie up at their dock (for
mega-yachts only), but we are allowed and thankful to go back on the
mooring.
After being in the desert islands of Cape Verde and the blue-grey Atlantic
so long, tropical lush Barbados appears like Garden Eden. We go to the
closeby town of Speightstown to see what we can buy as far as food and water
and replacement parts for the boat and find most exotic vegetables and fruit
(breadfruit, taro, yams etc.) that we have to learn how to cook.
The next
day we go to Bridgetown, the capital, to see what the yachting scene is like
there. We are a little disappointed not to be able to find any good
chandlery shop. The so-called boat yard is more of a beach discoteque than a
boat yard, where they want Skip to pay a cover charge of 20 Barbados dollars
(10 US) just to ask a few questions.Not very pleasant. Now we understand why
most other boats are going to other places: because Barbados is not an
island that caters to the voyaging yachties.
We are glad to be in Port St. Charles where it is quiet, facilities are well
kept and clean, people friendly and the surroundings beautifully tropical.
We enjoy a trip across the island where we can see what Barbados was before
the "gated ghettos" of the rich and famous on the West and South
coasts were
built. Bathsheba on the East coast is a very picturesque seaside village
that hasn't changed much in the last 20 years according to an American
resident that we meet there.
We spend a pleasant morning on the porch of his little chattel hoiuse
(cottage), having a jam session with Dani playing the bass and harmonica,
overlooking the coconut palms on the surfers' beach called "soup bowl".
Afterward we spend the afternoon in a beautiful park and wildlife reserve,
enjoying the mahogany trees and the monkeys.
The best form of transport on the island are the local buses: 1.50 BB$ for a
ride in a nut house. Wild hiphop/reggae/steelband music, high speed, a
hang-on-for-your-life trip! The horn of the bus beeping wildly to the music
around every corner of the narrow roadways. Thinking it might be safer to
hitchhike, we got a ride withina minute and had a wild ride to hiphop music
with a beeping horn to Holetown, the hotsytotsy shopping district of the
island and centre of the fanciest hotels and restaurants.
On Christmas Day we have a very pleasant afternoon at famous Mullins beach,
drinking rum punches listening to a fantastic steelband. Afterwards we have
a thrilling taxiride home on a hobycat. Later we have dinner at the Fish Pot
restaurant in Little Harbor, where Skip and Scott have a first course of
alligator skewers(Barbara prefers seared scallops...) and then a wonderful
fish platter as a main.Watching the sunset from the terrace we finally see
the famous "green flash" just after the sun has diappeared below the
horizon.
On Dec 30 we get invited for dinner by Peter and Gina from the catamaran
ankered right next to us. Gina has prepared a typical Bajan meal with
breadfruit, fried flying fish, cuckoo (corn meal and okra, mashed),
christophenes, carrots, spicy sauces- absolutely delicious! The next day we
decide to spend New Years Eve sailing down the West coast of Barbados
watching all the fancy fireworks and then sail on right over to Grenada.
I want to thank all the people that sent us Christmas greetings ! Sorry that
we didn't send anything, we were just so involved with everything going on
here and as you know we are not very expert with computers and it is not
always easy to find one that works properly. We wish all our friends a very
happy new year and we thank you for accompanying us on our voyage and
thinking of us!!! You will soon hear from us again!
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We left Port St. Charles and Barbados at around 10 pm on Dec 31, sailing down
the West coast to Sandy Lane to watch all the New Year's fireworks like other
yachts with parties on board around us. After the spectacle we set
course for Grenada, the first "real" Caribbean island, Barbados being
a little bit out of the way and still belonging more to the Atlantic. We started
off with a pleasant sail, until we got out of the lee of the island.
We sailed through the wonderfuol night trying to keep our speed down so we would
arrive in Grenada in daylight, after 36 hours approximately. (You shouldn't
approach harbors in the Caribbean at night because of all the dangerous reefs,
shoals and absent buoys and lights).
During the day the wind increased and the waves got bigger and bigger. We reefed
down to the staysail, trying to slow down. After sunset the wind got up to force
8 from astern and every other wave was coming on board. It was the most amazing
night of water from above and water from below. The waves were constantly
gushing over the doghouse and flooding the cockpit. If we hadn't strapped on, we
would have been washed overboard.
We stillm arrived after only 24 hours, when we hove to off the SW point of
Grenada and waited for the sunrise. In daylight we sailed back East
towards Prickly Bay, where we tried to anchor; but the anchor didn't hold, so we
finally picked up a mooring buoy where we felt safe and went to sleep
until midday, completely exhausted from the rough trip. Later we went to
clear Customs and Immigration with a very friendly officer who made us welcome
and told us lots of stories about the island being "chewed up" by
hurricane Ivan in 2004. We did some shopping , had a delicious pizza at the
marina and enjoyed the "happy hour" at the bar.
The next day we went to Budget Marina chandlery tugged away in the corner of the
bay and were amazed how well stocked it is. Later Henry from Safari Tours gave
us a ride to9 the Grenada Yacht Club at St. George's where we got a special rate
tying up at the dock for 6 days, but only paying for 4. We were pleased,
and after spending 2 nights in lovely Prickly Bay we sailed to St.George's
Lagoon, tied up, plucked in and chilled out: we hadn't been able to sleep so
well since Gibraltar, always worrying about the anchor.
On Jan 6 we were picked up early by Campbell, one of Henry's associates,
for a tour of the island. We first went up the West coast to Concord Falls, over
narrow steep winding roads full of potholes, through little colorful
villages with abundant flower gardens, through rainforests and across mountain
rivers., passing nutmeg and cinnamon trees. Grenada is also called Spice Island.
They also grow vanilla, cocoa, ginger etc., and the produce
market in St. George's is a symphony of aromas and colors. They also cultivate
lots of bananas, plantains (cooking bananas), callalou (a kind of
spinach), guavas, passion fruit, sorrel, among others. We drove further
up North to Guayava, a fishing village with a white sand beach full of gaily
painted boats and fishermen repairing nets.
The we drove over snakelike mountain roads into the interior of the
island. Dense rainforest, bright yellow immortelle trees, bright red coral trees,
huge ferns all over and gigantic vines covering whole mountain sides.
But we could also observe many broken tree tops, bald brown trunks
sticking out everywhere- remains of Ivan: the rainforest got very badly
damaged, even most of the animals disappeared, but it is recovering at an
amazing
speed.
We climbed down to the Seven Sisters Falls over muddy steep trails and finally
arrived at the spectacular fall. Dani and Scott had a breathtaking jump
from the top of the 15m fall into the 6m deep basin below filled
with crystal clear fresh water, a pleasure after the hot sweaty hike!
The next day we just chilled out on board in the morning and the took a bus to
Grand Anse Beach, almost deserted, lined by coconut trees and seagrape bushes,
the turquoise Caribbean lapping at our footprints.
Another day we rented a jeep and drove along the South and SE coast,
checking out all the different bays and hurricane holes and driving
up to Grenville in the East where we had a fantastic lunch at Ebony's, a place
you
will never find unless you ask a local - there is no sign, you have to walk a
dark alley, around the backyard and up rickety stairs where you enter into a
17th century colonial house that is considered one of the best of the
island. "To visit Grenada and not eat lambi (conch) at Ebony's is like
going on your honeymoon and not make love". We had a very good, well
composed meal of conch curry, kingfish, rice, pumpkin, green beans, callalou and
breadfruit.
We decided to stay in St. George's 4 more days, and our plan is to leave on
Saturday for Carriacou, because Friday is Feb 13 and we have become very
superstitious about Fridays: never leave port on a Friday, and even less so on a
13th!!
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On Saturday, 14 Feb, we leave St. George's, Grenada, in the direction of
Carriacou, a small island 35 nautical miles NE of Grenada which together with
Petite Martinique forms the state of Grenada.The weather is beautiful,
sunshine and a light breeze. We sail along the lee of the island close to the
coast. Every now and then a squall comes down one of the steep valleys.
We have all our sails up, even the iron one, so we can reach Tyrell Bay in
daylight. It gets dark here at around 6 pm- too bad, if we cannot see the reefs
anymore and the sandy spots where we are supposed to anchor in order
not to damage any coral. We sail by the green coast of Grenada, its lush green
mountains, Gouyave- the little fishing harbor-, colorful houses on the hills,
coconut groves with little huts.
Near the northern end of the island the wind picks up and the waves get
higher.In front of us there are many small deserted islands with beautiful names:
the Sisters, les Tantes, Sugar Loaf, London Bridge, Kick 'em Jenny.
The wind now blows strongly out of the east and we decide to sail by Kick 'em
Jenny on the western side- which is a little close to the active underwater
volcano that last erupted in 1989.
Kick 'em Jenny, the big rock, has a reputation of kicking up a nasty sea as you
go north and we have 3 to 4 m waves. But it is fun on deck (though not below)
and good old Ragnar enjoys it, too. In front of us Carriacou slowly coming
closer. The sea becomes calmer again, and at 4.3o pm we enter Tyrell Bay. There
are about 50 boats. We anchor without a problem and at first go in a sandy spot.
Immediately we are approached by some boat vendors in their dinghies selling
lobster, limes and wine and recommending restaurants. We say 'thank you' and
tell them to come back tomorrow, cook up a tasty soup of orange lentils with
garlic and ginger and go to bed by the sound of steeldrums , jembe drums and
wind wheels after having a glass of wine in the cockpit under the bright full
moon. Early next morning we explore the large mangrove swamp of Tyrell Bay: this
is a 'hurricane hole' that offers good protection for boats. It is very hot
there, the mangroves with their thousands of roots in the water appear
impenetrable. We can well imagine that they offer very good shelter in case of a
storm.
Afterwards we leave the dinghy tied up to a manchineel tree on Tyrell Bay beach
(there is almost no crime in Carriacou) and walk through the village: some
supermarkets with just the most basic stuff, some rum shops
(there is only one gas station in Carriacou, but over a hundred rum shops), a
sailmaker's, 3 or 4 restaurants, a boat yard, the yacht club and a genuine
Italian pizzeria.
Then we take the bus to Hillsborough, the capital of Carriacou. As it is Sunday
morning and early all the shops and bars are closed, there is no traffic. Only
near the numerous churches do we see people in their Sunday's
best clothes. The houses look well kept, colorfully painted; almost no trace of
hurricane Emily that hit Carriacou 10 months after Ivan devastated Grenada in
2oo4. Clean white sandy beach all along Hillsborough Bay, and on
its western edge Sandy Island, a flawless strip of white sand decorated with a
few palms and surrounded by reefs. Whow!
At around noon the town is waking up. We go into a rum shop on Main Street that
in the back has a verandah overlooking the beach. We have a Carib beer and a
Ting (grapefruit soda) and watch pelicans fly over the turquoise water and
suddenly dive into the sea and coming back out of the water with a fish in their
spoon beaks. The owner, Bill Patterson, a justice of peace, is sitting on a
chair at the table next to us and - with a baseball cap over his face - is
taking a nap. We get up, say good bye, but he doesn't budge.
Already in the street, Skip realizes that he didn't pay. He goes back in and
wakes Bill up. He wouldn't have noticed anything, probably wouldn't have
bothered either.
We like Carriacou more and more. We stay two weeks and would have stayed even
longer, if we didn't have to go back to Grenada. Tourism is almost non-existent
in Carriacou but for the yachties and some people coming in
with the ferry for some hours. Everybody knows everybody, everybody seems to
have plenty of time, no hurry, plenty of patience ; there is much joking, much
laughter; everybody greets us, talks to us.
We get around the island by bus: each trip costs 1 Euro, it doesn't matter if
you go 100 yards or 10 miles. We sit squeezed in between huge bottoms and bosoms,
boxes, jerry cans, listening to loud Calypso and Reggae music while sliding
through narrow curves or screechingly slowing down because of a sleeping
policeman.
From the boat we can see Mount Chapeau-Carre, Carriacou's highest mountain,
about 350m high. One day we decide to climb up there. First the road through the
rainforest is wide and comfortable, cleared by free-running goats and cows. We
come by a house and ask for the path to the top. An 8-year-old boy, Darell,
shows us the way: he turns into a hardly visible path and jumps up the steep
mountain side like a goat, with us struggling to follow him through dense
scrubbery, climbers, thorny asparagus and poison ivy, by beautiful trees with
bright red and yellow flowers.
At the top we enjoy magnificent vistas over the whole island, the sea, the reefs,
Grenada, Union Island, Petite Martinique and Petit St. Vincent. All of a sudden
Darell screams- he wanted to pick up a pretty shell, but the
hermit crab inside feels disturbed and bites him into his finger and won't let
go. It takes us quite a while to free him of it! Another hike takes us from
SixCrossRoads to Dumfries on the east coast and to a wonderful sandy beach,
where a man is burning manchineel trees.
These pretty but toxic trees had been 'chewed up' by hurricane Emily. We ask
for the path to Mount Pleasant and the man tells us that it was chewed up, too,
but that we might find the remains of it if we didn't mind climbing. So we
stumble up a steep slope and jump over tree trunks and struggle through nasty
prickly bushes. When we get out of the woods, we find ourselves right on the
edge of the cliffs amidst meadows with cows and fragrant flowering
frangipani trees. The sea and reefs below Grand Bay below shimmer in all shades
of blue, green and turquoise.
We climb up the steep hill and pass by new houses, painted lime green, bright
red, pink, lemon yellow and lilac with red, green and blue roofs, surrounded by
exuberant greenery. The gardens explode in a symphony of
colors: purple,red and white bougainvilleas, blooming red and yellow and pink
climbers. We walk back down to Grand Bay beach, but it is full of seaweed
and garbage, so we climb up again. It is very hot and we go into a
rum shop to have a drink.
The scene there is quite surreal: the cool, handsome young owner; an older drunk
man that talks to Dani (who doesn't understand much) about the benefits of 'adventuring'
while young; a 'demonio' in raggy pants with two
teeth left, laughing diabolically at Skip's dreadlocks; me observing the picture.
From outside, the drunk's wife shouting 'you ged out there NOW!'
The drunk doesn't budge, staring into the void. He doesn't get served anymore.
In the meantime, kids coming into the shop buying cheese, eggs and chips and
staring at us like at aliens.
We walk back to white, dreamlike Paradise Beach, take a swim in the crystal
clear water and rest below the mangrove trees. We try to get
something to drink at the rastaman's bar, but he is busy practicing shadowboxing
in the sand. So we get the beer out of the icebox ourselves and leave the money
on the countertop. It's alright, man. Laid back.
When we are not exploring the island, we work on the boat: sanding and
varnishing, sanding and varnishing, 6 coats, being closely watched by the
natives and boaters who seem impressed.
We feel completely at ease in Carriacou and are even thinking of building a
little house somewhere. The land is cheap, no building permits required.
BUT: there are no book stores, no press, not much food around (terrible bread,
chicken-wings, chicken-legs, yogurt, cheese and cream only in bad quality;
little choice of fruit and vegetables. But pink grapefruit are the
best in the world.
On Wednesday, Feb 1, we sail back to Grenada. We had rainy, squally weather for
a while and a big swell, but now there is a weather window of 2 days. In a
perfect northeasterly we sail by Kick 'em Jenny and the west coast of Grenada
back to St. George's, a very relaxed and pleasant journey.
On Feb 7 is Independence Day. Buildings, cars and boats are decorated with the
Grenadian colors, the trunks of the trees alongside the roads get painted in
green, red and yellow, people wear hats, shirts and skirts in the
national colors. The streets are immaculately clean, workers mow the lawns until
late at night. Police and military practice parading through the streets in
Calypso rhythm. Grenada has been independent since 1974, but its short history
has been quite turbulent. In 1979 the popular Fidel Castro fan Maurice
Bishop started some positive economic and political development which was ended
abruptly by US intervention and his execution in 1983. Since then Grenada has
been struggling hard to get on its own feet, an effort which was nullified
by the disastrous hurricanes Ivan and Emily. Now Grenada is almost completely
depending on international aid, mostly from Taiwan.
On Feb 7, at 1.30 am, we go to the Freedom Fest near the airport, a reggae-concert
with Grenadian and Jamaican musicians that ends at around 5.30 in the morning.
The rest of the day we chill out.
On 26 Feb, about 4 pm, we leave Grenada to make a night passage to Tobago,
where we want to meet our friends Pit and Anni.After rounding Point Salines
on the southern tip of Grenada we are closehauled to the wind all the way
across on one tack to Crown Point on the Swtip of Tobago. After rounding it,
we have to motorsail to Scarborough because of the 4knot current coming down
the coast. It takes us three hours to go the 8 nm under full engine, staying
just outside the reefs in about 5 meters of water, keeping all eyes open for
where the waves are breaking.
At the approach of Scarborough there is a reef that comes out 2nm off shore
with only one post marking it. So we have to be very careful because of the
strong currents pushing us in the direction of the reef. At 4pm we anchor in
the fishing harbor of Scarborough. There is only one other sailboat besides
us.
We check in at Customs and find a very pleasant and friendly lady who tells
us that we have to come back the next morning to go to Immigration, and she
also gives us information about where best to see the carnival parade. We
find a "cool" bar just above the main crossroads which the locals call the
"watering hole".We enjoy the evening watching the world go by.
The next morning we are woken by loud music and a lot of noise from the mud
people.At 4am carnival starts with people covering themselves in mud and
paint and whatever else you can imagine, dancing and drinking in the
streets. At 7am, on our way to Immigration, we pass many bleary-eyed, dazed
and mud-covered beings dancing and staggering through the streets.
After 2 hours in Immigration we have a very enjoyable walk through the
Botanical Garden of Scarborough. We meet a nice man who shows us different
species of trees and edible fruits. He picks up a husk from the ground and
tells us to peel it, put it into our mouths and suck on it. It's a tamarind,
quite sour but good.
We then take a walk up Main Street of Upper Scarborough and come across an
excellent bakery where they make a mind-blowing carrot cake that gives us
enough energy to walk to the very steep road to Fort St. George.There are
some of the biggest and most beautiful trees we have ever seen, growing on
the grassy slopes just below the Fort.
In the meantime crowds have gathered along the port area for the children's
carnival parade. The sidewalks are lined with chicken-white cruiseship
tourists waiting for the merry pageantry.We find ourselves at the very end
of the parade. It is very colorful, but the kids are completely worn out
from the dancing in the streets for hours. We chill out at the watering hole
and get into an interesting discussion with two friendly Tobagons about the
different music that goes under the name of Calypso. There are two main
styles of it: Kaiso and Soca. Kaiso is slower and the lyrics are important,
commenting on social issues, ridicule politicians etc. Soca is fast, seems
to be crude and lack wit and craftsmanship, but it gets people up and on the
floor! Carnival music is mostly soca: huge trucks packed with loudspeakers
blare it at a deafening volume. We recover from that sanding another part of
the boat (a never-ending job).
Before watching the adults' carnival on Tuesday we have lunch at Rasta Ma's
restaurant, the best food we have in town. Always trust a Rasta to cook up a
good meal!Not all the paraders have the dream figures of the pictures you
mostly see of carnival revelries. They are all sizes, from small to fat and
round, from tall to skinny, plump and jolly- some more than you can
imagine. Everybody is dancing in the street to the point of exhaustion- and
then dancing some more.
After the parade back to the watering hole where it is like watching a
Fellini film: Roman soldiers, Arab knights, belly-dancers, mud people, white
people (black people covered with chalk and masks), everybody walking up the
hill or getting into taxis- all amongst the normally dressed folks of the
town. It is actually more fun than watching the parade itself! The most
spectacular: a 2 meter tall girl in a golden sequined bikini costume with
long white feathers on her head, ducking into the backseat of a taxi.
On 2 March we get a visit from Pit and Anni who take us for a drive to
Castara Bay. On the way we stop at a little creek flowing through the
rainforest and enjoy strolling down the sandy riverbed with its big
boulders. We are looking for a waterfall, but don't find it. Afterwards we
stop for a drink and meet a very nice lady feeding a baby goat with a baby
bottle.She tells us that she visits a different Caribbean island every
summer. Asked which one she likes best she answers: Oh, Grenada, I love
Grenada. St. Vincent- oh, I love St. Vincent. St. Lucia- oh, I love St.
Lucia!
Way up above Castara there is an awesome lookout over the coast. It is set
in a little park with lawns, shady sea almond trees and benches, and deep
deep down you can see lovely Castara Bay with its sand beach, seagrape trees
and houses that look like toys.
The next day we take a 1 ½ hour busride up to Charlotteville in the
NWcorner of the island where we meet our friends again. They happen to have
a treasure map. After strolling around the lively fishing harbor we decide
to go look for that treasure. After driving up an awfully bumpy dirt-road
full of potholes where the oil-pan takes a beating, we park at an old house
and take a 15-minute walk down a jungle pathway over a little creek to a
magnificent hidden-away bay and beach lined with trees, bamboos, palmtrees
and ginger.
On the treasure map there is an X marked next to a big tree that has a "No
trespassing" sign nailed to it.Pit digs and finds a coconut full of treasure
which we share among us all, having an enlightening time at this paradisical
beach. Afterwards we drive back to our friends' enchanting hotel where we
have the best piña colada ever. Our friends then drop us in nearby Speyside
where we meet a good brother, Joseph, who shows us where to buy bus tickets
and a couple of hip-flasks of rum to while away the time with some of his
friends. While all waiting for the bus to Scarborough, the Baptist reverend
of the town joins us. She also waits to see us safely off, chatting about
unruly men and respect and lovingkindness. The one-hour bus ride in the dark
of the night is a harrowing hair-pin curved experience. It's actually better
at night because you can't see over the edges.
On March 4, Saturday, we up anchor and have a fantastic sail around the
southern tip of the island to Plymouth. We arrive at 1 pm, have a pleasant
stroll through the village and walk along the beautiful beach of Courland
Bay. There are hundreds of birds there: on the fishing boats, in the air and
on the water.The funniest are the pelicans that plummet out of the air into
the water to catch a fish, and laughing gulls that follow them and then sit
on the pelicans' heads trying to snitch the fish out of the pelicans' beaks.
(Pelicans normally dive into the water to catch fish and bob up and lift
their beaks to swallow their catch.The pelicans here keep their heads under
water until they have the whole fish in their beak so the gulls cannot take
it from them.)On Sunday, March 5, we set sail from Plymouth with Pit and Anni. A first
time adventure for Anni who has never been on the sailboat before. We have a
very pleasant sail along the coast past another Sisters Rocks and finally
tack our way into beautiful Man of War Bay. Along the way Anni wishes to see
some dolphins, so Barbara starts banging on the side of the boat while Anni
is squeaking like a dolphin, and within minutes- like magic- there they are,
with big smiles on their faces!
After anchoring in Charlotteville, a cozy little fishing harbor, we jump
into the water for a swim and Skip starts scrubbing the waterline, and all
of a sudden Barbara points at a big fish in the water just below Skip and
Anni screams "A shark!!!" So Skips jumps out of the water just as Dani
plunges into it on the other side of the boat. When we tell him there is a
shark, he climbs up the side of the boat like a monkey, really fast!!!
(Afterwards we found out that the "shark" was actually a pilotfish that
sucks onto other fish to clean them; this one stayed close to our boat and
we fed it; it especially liked salad leaves, less so tomatoes)
The next day Pit and Anni pick us up in a rental car and drive us to just
past Roxborough to Argyle waterfalls. We have a very reeelaxed waaalk first
through a cocoa plantation and then along the riverbed and through the
rainforest to a breathtaking three-tiered waterfall.We take a dip in the
lower pond and then climb up a steep trail to the second pond and then to
the " Rasta shower " above.In the shower, when the sun is shining you can
see a rainbow, a full-circle rainbow. A rainbow that you can hold in your
hands. Whow!!! On our way back we meet some Rastas who make beautiful
calabash lampshades, bamboo ashtrays, balls of cocoa etc.
Tobago is a stunning island with pristine beaches, paradisical bays and
green hills covered with the lushest rainforest we have seen so far. It is a
small island, 23m by 5 miles, and has only about 50 000 inhabitants that
live mostly along the eastern and southern coast. Most of the rest is virgin
rainforest with 250 different species of birds and an amazing amount of tree
and plant species. Barbara is freaking out discovering wild bird of paradise
flowers, anthuriums, thousands of heliconias all over, ginger, silk cotton
trees..
After asking directions many times we finally find Richmond Plantation House
where Pit drives in, blocking the entrance of the driveway. Seconds later a
car pulls up and beeps its horn and very patiently waits for Pit to move his
car out of the way. What a serendipitous moment! The driver, Arthur
Jemmotte, the director of restoration of the 300-year-old plantation house,
tells us that it is still being worked on, but that he would gladly let us
have a glance at the inside if we took our shoes off. Unbelievable!!! If you
are ever in Tobago, make sure that you go there to see the house and the
collection of African artifacts. It's a must! Thank you, Arthur, for this
very special treat!
On the way home we stop at the Blue Waters Inn where Pit and Anni are
staying and have another one of these fantastic piña coladas. Hmmm!
The next day we hop a ride back to the inn where we take the glassbottom
boat to Petit Tobago natural reserve. There we finally see where the birds
that followed us all across the Atlantic nest and hatch their young under
huge Anthurium leaves: snowwhite and gray-striped tropicbirds. After a
beautiful walk across the forest-covered island we snorkel, drifting along
the reef. Afterwards what else but a piña colada!
On Friday, March 11, we clear out of Charlotteville. (We actually have to
clear in AND out; make sure, if you are cruising Tobago, to clear in AND out
of the same port in order to go to another port in Tobago/Trinidad.)
On Saturday, after relaxedly watching the fishermen pull their seine-nets
onto the beach, we hoist the sails at anchor and sail away to the northwest.
A romping good reach! It is for us a record-breaking time: 90 nautical miles
in 12 hours. Now we are back home in Grenada, tied up to the dock, had a
good meal and will go to be
B E Q U I A
We have been invited to RACE in the Antigua Classics Regatta on April 20 to
25, so we have to move north . On Saturday, March 18, at 12 o'clock, we say
good bye to St. George's, Grenada, and set sail for Bequia, a little island
just south of St. Vincent, 70 nm from St. George's, all of it upwind.
We stay as close as possible to shore to catch the gusts of wind coming down
the valleys. When we get too far off shore, we tack in to take advantage of
the shore breezes.After it gets dark we stay on a starboard tack till we are
about 12 nm west of Union Island. There we tack to close the shore. 2nm
off Union Island we go on starboard tack again, until we are about 10 nm
off Bequia. Then we tack into the harbor, arriving there at noon on Sunday.
At 3 pm we are at Customs/ Immigration (they open at 3) in a beautiful
air-conditioned building, and 10 minutes later we are cleared! We then
stroll down the beach, find Mac's famous pizzeria and have the well-known
lobster pizza. Yum,yum,yum!! It is so much that we have the rest the next
day on the boat.
On Monday we go to the market, one of the nicest markets so far in the
Caribbean, full of fantastic vegetables and fruit and extremely nice Rasta
vendors that let us taste the things we don't know- passion fruit,
starfruit, golden apples etc.
Afterwards we go for a walk over the hill to Friendship Bay. From the
roadway down to the beach is a ski jump of a road that Barbara and Dani go
flying down. At the bottom of the hill we turn right at a telephone pole,
walk through some bushes and find ourselves on another magnificent beach.
After the stroll we arrive at the Mosquito Bar with hanging chairs around
the bar where we have - what else?- piña colada, different from Tobago, but
just as delicious. After a mouth-watering lunch we take a taxi-ride as far
as we can along the eastern shore of Bequia: many beautiful empty beaches
with old coconut palm groves, forests and grazing cattle.
We spend Tuesday cleaning, sanding and varnishing the boat,and in the
evening we go ashore and visit the model boat builders' shops. We find a bar
with great views of Admiralty Bay in the older, more authentic part of town.
Being on a mooring in dmiralty Bay is like being in a 5 star hotel: early in
the morning there is fresh warm bread delivered to the boats (baguettes,
banana bread, hmmm), the vegetable man comes around and sells you all the
greens you need, water and gasoil can be delivered, laundry taken,and if you
are too lazy to take the dinghy you can always call the watertaxi.
Therre are about 170 sailing yachts in the bay, of all shapes and sizes,
from little day-sailers to Bequia wooden schooners (Friendship Rose) to
square-rigged 3-masted sailing ships and the occasional white cargo and
cruise ships. Whoops! Here comes the 5-masted Seacloud around the corner!!
Here we are sitting at the upstairs Maria's Internet café, enjoying the
hussles and bussles of the waterfront: many dinghy docks with sandy beaches
in between, with a walkway around the bay, flanked by coconut palm trees,
seagrapes, frangipanis, cedars and blooming flowers.The music we are
listening to- which inspire this writing- is some of the most stunning
African drumming we have ever heard. Sorry, name unknown! While at Maria's,
make sure you have a smoothie- mango, pawpaw (papaya) and soursop.
ST. V I N C E N T
On Thursday, March 23, we have abroad reach (doing 7.5 knots) to Wallilabou,
St. Vincent. Walilabou is a very picturesque bay right out of Hollywood
(Pirates of the Caribbean, with Johnny Depp), actually quite cozy.The
remaining structures from the movie give you the impression of an old
Caribbean village waterfront, but at closer inspection you see that it is
all make-believe: columns and stone-walls out of Styrofoam, beautiful 17th
century houses from the front and scaffolding and plywood from the back.
When we enter the harbor we are met by Smiley, a boatman who helps us pick
up a mooring and tie a sternline to a tree 50 meters from the rocks. He is
also very helpful in organizing a boattaxi and a guide to climb Soufriere
volcano.
The next morning at 6.30 we set off in Brother's watertaxi, weaving in and
out along the coastline until we reach Richmond Bay north of Chateaubelair.
Along the way in Cumberland Bay we picked up our guide, Dannyman. From the
beach we are looking at the top of the volcano, approximately 3000 feet
high, a 2 ½ to 3- hour climb, first along the dried-out riverbed, then
through a gorge some parts only 2 feet wide, and then up,up,up through the
dense rainforest until we reach the ridge. Sometimes the pathway along the
ridge is so narrow that if you lookat your feet you can see down both slopes
of the mountain. After a hard , humid and hot walk we break through the
rainforest and enter a volcanic landscape where we don our jackets because
of the drop of temperature. At the rim of the crater we have to stay low to
the ground otherwise the force of the wind would send us tumbling down the
1000 feet into the crater hole. After a picknick of banana bread, grapefruit
and water we start the knee-grinding descent. Halfway down, Skip knows why
the volcano's name is Soufriere- he is really suffering! The next day we are
all too sore to sail away, so we stay an extra day
CHAP IX St.Lucia, Martinique, Dominica, Les Saintes and Guadeloupe
ST. L U C I A
On Sunday, March 26, we sail farther north to St. Lucia to another place called
Soufriere , a fishing village where we pick up a mooring and tie up to a tree
at Benny's Harmony Beach just north of the Pitons. The water is so
crystal clear that we can see the colorful fish and corals from the deck of the
boat. The Pitons are like two big tits. Coming from St. Vincent looking for the
island on the horizon you won't see anything, but looking up you'll
see the tops of the Pitons sticking out of the haze, over 2000 feet high and
steep like sugarcones.
We go to Benny's for dinner. His wife Marcelene is an excellent cook. The whole
family creates such a pleasant atmosphere that we feel like at home.
The next day we meet Junior, the taxidriver. He shows us interesting sites in
the Soufriere area. We go La Haute Plantation House with its fantastic view of
the Pitons. Then we drive through the volcano and see sulphur
bubbling out of the ground. From there we visit a cocoa plantation, Fond Doux
Estate. Theodora, our guide, is very and knowledgeable about how to process
cocoa and explaining the different plants of the park.
Along the walk she picks up a ripe cocoa pod, breaks it open and tells us to
suck on the white gooey seeds that they call "jungle M&Ms". Yum, yum!!! Then we
drive to the Dasheene restaurant from where you have a breathtaking view of the
Pitons from a ridge between the two. Skip finds it too breathtaking, feeling
like
being choked between Big Bertha tits.
Before going to Marigot Bay the next morning we sail to a mooring in the bay
between the Pitons. We have a coffee on the terrace of the Hilton Resort,
feeling like being transported by a time machine into the (de)civilized
world. Even the snowwhite powdery beach (imported from Guayana) seems completely
out of space. After a fast escape we meet a guard at the perimeter of the hotel
property who, when told that we are heading for
Marigot Bay next, says "Why you want to go there?"
At noon we arrive in Marigot Bay and we ask ourselves the same question. Marigot
Bay has been described by many as the most beautiful spot in the Caribbean, but
it has been taken over by developers and sure is losing its
uniqueness and paradise charm, although they are trying to do an eco job there.
Then off to Rodney Bay to tie up in a marina that could be anywhere in Florida.
In this part of St. Lucia it's not like sailing from one Caribbean village to
the next, but like traveling from one resort to the next.
We rent a car to see if we can find anything genuinely Caribbean left and we are
lucky! We find Labisab Plantation hidden in the interior of the island: a real
family plantation, handed down for many generations. A most idyllic
farm set between two mountain rivers, one with a pool where they baptize souls.
Everything on the farm is self-produced, even the boards used to build the
houses are handsawn like in the old days. The logs are supported
on a scaffold of poles appr. 2.5m off the ground, where one man stands on the
top of the log and another underneath, handling a saw 2 m long, pushing and
pulling from top to bottom to cut the length of the board, all this
accompanied by singing and drumming to make the work more pleasant.
The farm itself is completely self-sufficient, with enough left over to sell at
the market in Castries, the capital. As we are leaving the owner gives us a
whole bag full of golden apples, mangoes, papayas, coconuts.
St. Lucia is a wonderful island and has some resorts that are rated among the
best of the world, but we see them with different eyes. For somebody that comes
only for a short vacation they could offer a glimpse of paradise.
For the people of the island they mean a radical change of lifestyle. Sure they
can earn some money here, but at the same time they become dependent on them,
too. Old family structures fall apart, as the farmer told us: on
weekends all family members used to get together to help build somebody's house
or help with the heavy field work, but now some family members refuse to work
without getting paid. What do they get in return? New sofas,
microwaves, computers? What happens to them, if another hurricane destroys the
resorts?
We can't help it, but we have the impression that the new menial jobs seem very
similar to the ones that people here had in old times on the plantations owned
by the rich whites. They are the servants for the few
living in "gated ghettos" again, lower and exotic.
We found that people living in areas unspoilt by tourism seem a lot friendlier,
happier and self-confident, though they might live in makeshift houses without
luxury items, but by the sea or on clear mountain rivers. The
climate is mild all year round, there is an abundance of edible plants
everywhere, nobody goes hungry. We talked to many people about this and they all
agree that there are only very few natives that make big money from
these resorts, the main bulk of it going out of the country.
M A R T I N I Q U E
On Saturday, April 1, we sail to Martinique, where we anchor off Fort-de-France,
the capital. We find the town completely deserted while we are looking for
Customs, which we finally find , but it is closed. We go to
the police station to clear Immigration and are told to come back on Monday to
clear Customs. We arrive there only to be told that they don't clear yachties
any more and that we have to do that at a chandlery in town.
The town still seems kind of abandoned, probably because of the gigantic
shopping-malls near the airport. Also at night the town feels completely
deserted without bars or restaurants worth mentioning. It looks like
Fort-de-France has been abandoned like many towns in America because of the
malls. What a shame.
After sanding and varnishing the mast on Monday we take the ferry across the
huge bay to Anse Mitan, where again we find an artificial Caribbean urbanization.
It seems they are leaving their cultural heritage behind.
Feeling as if we were back in the Mediterranean instead of the Caribbean we
decide to push on to St. Pierre in the north of Martinique. St. Pierre sits at
the base of Montagne Pelée, a volcano that erupted in 1902, completely
destroying the town and leaving 30000 people dead. Still today there are many
ruins to be seen from the disaster. St. Pierre never got back to its old glory
as the "Caribbean Paris" of old and we feel kind of uneasy and sad
in the area though it is quite charming and pretty with green rolling hills and
well-tended fields.
We find one nice spot called the Butterfly Garden. Unfortunately all the
butterflies and birds had been killed because of aerial fumigation of the
mosquitoes. But what is interesting is all the musical instruments that have
been made from bamboo and which we are able to play ourselves. We hope to stop
there again on our way back for one of their famous concerts on weekends.
D O M I N I C A
We set sail for Dominica on Thursday and have a very pleasant broad reach to
Roseau.
Nice to be back on a Caribbean island!! Roseau is a picturesque old Caribbean
capital where we enjoy walking through the streets with their bubbling townlife
that is so missing in Fort-de-France.
After being helped picking up a mooring by Pancho we have a beautiful walk
through the Botanical Garden up Jack's walk. When we reach the top we find buses
full of tourists from the cruiseships looking at the view and milling among the
souvenir stands. We buy coca colas from one of the ladies who charges us 5 EC$,
but after a couple of minutes she comes to us and gives us back 2 EC$ saying
that she had mistaken us for tourists instead of locals.. which makes us feel
quite at home.
Two days later we sail to Portsmouth which is in Prince Rupert's Bay at the
northern tip of the island, another wonderful sail along the coast.
Portsmouth is a fishing village with several huge rusty wrecks lining the
waterfront since hurricane Lenny. Shortly after our arrival we are met by Martin,
a friend of Pancho's, on his boat Providence and taken for a row up
the Indian river.
This river is like stepping into the past. In Dominica, even more so than on
other Caribbean islands, they try hard to preserve their cultural heritage.
It is said that, if Columbus came back, Dominica would be the only island that
he would recognize. The Indian river is one of 365 rivers that come down from
the mountains and form a swamp land before emptying into the sea.
The mouth of the river is approximately 50 m wide and narrows as you go up-stream
until the branches and vines from the trees form a tunnel-like canopy.
The roots of the bloodwood trees along the banks form incredible sculptures.
There are wild hibiscus growing alongside, coconut palms, cedars and huge fern
rees. The stillness of the river and the sounds and sight of a multitude of
colorful birds make it an enchanting place. If we die and they
don't accept us in heaven, send our bodies to the Indian river!
The next day we take a bus to see a little bit of the countryside, but the bus
we happen to pick drops us at a crossing in the middle of nowhere. The
busdriver tells us not to worry, another bus would take us to Calabishie on the
east coast. After waiting for half an hour we decide to walk in the glowing heat
and try to hitchhike. We walk along the roadway which runs parallel to a ravine,
the slopes looking vertical with the river deep deep
down, everything covered by dense tropical forest.After a while we are luckily
picked up by Moise and his Haitian wife Alexandrine who ask us where we want to
go. After telling them that we just want to see some of their beautiful island
they decide to give us a tour. We drive down the Atlantic coast, stopping for a
drink at a little bar along the beach and then buying some eggs at an egg-farm.Moise
then takes us to the Emerald Pool Waterfall where we probably wouldn't have gone
after seeing so many waterfalls already. But in the end we are very glad we went
there because it turns out to be the most beautiful of them all! It is a
15-minute walk through the rainforest. It is even raining, but we don't get wet
because of the canopy of leaves above us. The beauty of the place is hard to
describe.
We continue by following the Layou river back down to the sea, stopping every
now and then in order to buy limes, some sugar-cane juice and some grilled
plantains from vendors by the roadside. Moise and his wife make us feel as if
we are on a family excursion. We enjoyed their company immensely!
L E S S A I N T E S and G U A D E L O U P E
We are not looking forward to going back to the civilization of the French
islands, but when we get to Bourg-en-Saintes, capital of a group of islands
north of Dominica, we are surprised how charming and Caribbean and
nest-like the place is. As there is no Customs to clear in or out here, we have
to go to Guadeloupe the next day. But on our way back south we would like to
spend more time in this pleasant place.
Upon arriving in Guadeloupe we anchor off Basse-Terre and paddle ashore to clear
Customs. Luckily Dani stays on board, for, while we are gone, the anchor drags
and Ragnar would have drifted out to sea without us.
As Basse-Terre doesn't provide any anchorage for us and doesn't look very
appealing either, we just continue up the coast to Deshaies. We find it a very
crowded bay, but the tiny village turns out to be very charming. We
have a delicious meal ashore at L'Amer restaurant to celebrate the seventh full
moon since the start of our voyage and also the rescue of Ragnar.
It would be nice if the French authorities put down some moorings along their
coastline (like all other islands) and add facilities for the yachting community
to make life a little easier. The bay of Deshaies is a good
anchorage, but at night the thermal winds coming down the mountains can reach up
to50 knots and more, almost hurricane force. Anchored in 6 m of water with 40 m
of chain out, during the night the chain would stretch out
almost horizontally from the force of the wind. Not a good place for a restful
sleep!
CHAP X. From Guadeloupe to Antigua
On
Saturday, April 15, we sail from Guadeloupe to Antigua. Along the way we spot
our first (humpback)whales in the Atlantic jumping out of the water nd
flapping their fins! They swim under the boat and off into the distance.
Long before Antigua we can see Monserrat with its smoking volcano.
In the early afternoon we arrive in Falmouth Harbour and tie up at the Antigua
Yacht Club Marina. Day after day the dock becomes fuller of all kinds of old
beautiful classic boats. Their brass is so shiny that we decide to polish ours,
too, and join the Concours d'´elegance.
On Friday morning we sit in the cockpit, not moving a muscle and not touching a
thing, waiting for the judges to come by. And lo and behold! At the prize-giving
ceremony we are surprised to find that we win the 3rd place in the privately
maintained category!! Hurrah!!!
Saturday, April 1st, is the first day of the race. At 10 o'clock the start of
the classic class A which we are in, and then every 15 minutes is the start of
the next faster class. But there is absolutely no wind and eventually all 55+
boats are on the starting line, all at the same time, bobbing around like corks,
with sails flapping, people having conversations from one boat to the next, all
for about an hour, until finally a light breeze pushes the fleet apart. The rest
of the race is sailed in light variable winds with occasional rain squalls.
The second race on Sunday is called the Butterfly. This day starts with good
wind, reaching down to the first mark which we round just behind famous Eleonora
of London and high-tech Ranger just behind us. After a beat to windward
and a reach out and a reach back we cross the finish line and head for the
parade in English Harbour. As we round the headland we put Dani on the bow as a
bow fluff. Upon entering the Harbour there is a roar of applause as the
announcer announces our name and describes the boat.
On Monday, the Cannon race. If you only sail one sailboat race in your life make
sure it is the Cannon race at Antigua Classic. It's a 6 nm reach, gybe around
the buoy, and a 6nm reach back to the start line, twice. As the small boats
start an hour ahead of the big boats, we are able to round the first
mark before the big guys catch us. Reaching back we have Eleonora passing us to
port and Ranger passing us to starboard going in the other direction.
There is so much traffic of beautifulboats flying along that you don't know
where to look any more.The most fantastic race we ever participated in!
Every day after the races there are many social gatherings in the Club, at
Nelson's Dockyard in English Harbour, aboard the Carracou boat Jambalaya and -
the nicest of them- a champagne evening on board Eleonora.
And, surprise again: the evening of the prize-giving we receive our 2nd trophy
for the 2nd best performance over the short course!!
ST.
LUCIA - ST. VINCENT - BEQUIA - MUSTIQUE
After a few days of cleaning the boat and chilling out we continue our voyage
south to get below the hurricane zone, that is below 12 degrees north.Grenada is
at 12 degrees N and got hit terribly twice in the last years, so we will have to
go even further south to Venezuela.
First we stop in Rodney Bay, St. Lucia, for some days, first tied up at the
marina and then anchoring off Pigeon Island for the Jazz Festival weekend.
From there we move further south to Soufriere where we have dinner at Benny's
again. Then one night at Wallilabou, St. Vincent, and another night at Petit
Byahaut Bay.
CHAP
XII
CANOUAN - TOBAGO CAYS - UNION ISLAND - PALM ISLAND
From Mustique we continue to Canouan. Canouan is a whole different story.
The island has been divided in two: the northern half is owned by an American
real estate company that boasts 5-star Raffles hotel/ spa/ resort/ casino. We
are taking a walk around the small island and come to what appears Checkpoint
Charlie. There they tell us that if we want to enter their zone we have to pay
100 US$. We tell them that the Beerlin wall fell years ago and turn around and
walk back. Not even the locals are allowed to go in there freely. The whole area
is a development like Mustique but not
open to the public unless you pay- the price includes the use of a heavy-duty
golf-cart, some of their facilities and lunch.
The rest of the island is trying to take advantage of the situation. There is a
building boom going on in a variety of styles even before a proper
infrastructure seems to be in place. The island as such is quite pleasing to the
eye- green hills, white beaches- except the tons of litter everywhere.
If they put up signs "Do not litter! 100 $ fine!" like in the resort
area the town would be rich.We are at a mooring off Tamarind Beach Hotel where
in the Pirate's Cove Bar
we thoroughly enjoy another piña colada almost as good as in Tobago! Pit, you
got us hooked!
On May 28, we leave for the most magical spot in the Caribbean, the Tobago Cays.
After threading our way through the reefs and through the channel between Petit
Rameau and Petit Bateau Islands we emerge into the lagoon in the center of the
Horseshoe Reef, anchoring between the other 2 islands, Jamesby and Barabel. It's
quite a feeling to be anchored behind a reef with all the Atlantic Ocean in
front of you.
We put the dinghy into the water so we can motor out to the mooring buoys
provided for dinghies at the inside edge of the reef. Dani has some fantastic
snorkeling between the canyons of coral in less than 2m of water.
Afterwards we stop at a beach and have the whole island and its one palm tree
for ourselves.
After a beautiful quiet starry night with the only lights to be seen on
Canouan in the north and Union in the south we sail to Clifton Harbor on Union
Island. We take a mooring right next to the beach. When we ask Dani to check it
he jumps into the water and swims to where the mooring buoy is attached and ends
up standing shoulder-deep in the water on top of the rock.
As Clifton is on the windward side of the island the wind is constantly blowing
from the east or southeast; so there is no threat of spinning in a circle on the
mooring. If the wind came out of the southwest we would be high and dry on the
beach.
With its rugged silhouette Union Island appears like the Alps of the Caribbean
from a distance. It looks a lot bigger than it is. It is pretty well deserted
except in the Clifton and Ashton areas in the south. These two only villages
have two completely different atmospheres: Clifton being the place where the
harbor happened, and Ashton the one where it was abandoned.
We take a ride around the island on a minibus- it's blazing hot and there is not
much shade anywhere here. It takes us about one hour to drive over every road
there is. The north and west are still very pristine, an area that is just
waiting to be developed, esp. beautiful Chatham Bay.
One afternoon we take a thrilling water-taxi ride across the channel to Palm
Island. When we go ashore we walk up a pathway that divides into three, each one
with its own sign "Private property. Do not enter. Hotel guests only".
Looking around, wondering where we could go, up pops a man dresses in blue who
tells us that we can walk along the beach and only as far inland as the first
row of palm trees. We start our walk along the leeward shore which is a
marvelous white sandy beach with crystal clear emerald water gently lapping at
the shore. On the shoreside are the hotel bungalows scattered among palm groves
and manicured gardens- the ideal hideaway if you want to do absolutely
nothing . All inclusive 1000 US$ per day per couple in
thatched Balinesian-style houses with large verandahs. A lot of money to do
nothing.
Further along the north shore of the island the reef is close to the beach and
ashore are a few privately owned houses in a hotch-potch of styles.
After half an hour we reach the eastern shore where we have to cut inland to
avoid a point of rocks, crossing a part of the golf course which appears to not
be used very often.
After arriving again at the jetty we go the bar to have a drink, but the
waitress says "Before you sit down, sir, I want to tell you that we only
serve guests of the hotel". We cannot even have a glass of water. The only
place on the island to buy a drink is out of a fridge in the gift shop.
As it is impossible to get a water-taxi back we have to wait for the employee
shuttle-boat that is full of exhausted-looking workers on their way home to
Clifton.
On Thursday June 1 we leave Clifton with joy in our hearts and anticipating our
arrival in Carricou, our Favorite island so far. We anchor off Hillsborough,
clear in, do some shopping , have a beer in our favorite bar right on the beach
and have a lovely chat with the Justice of the Peace who is sitting in the same
spot as when we left 4 months ago. And then off and around the
corner to anchor in Tyrell Bay, a stone's throw away from a good hurricane hole
in the mangroves. If we ever buy a piece of property in the
Caribbean it would be somewhere on this island.
CHAP
XIII. Carriacou -Grenada -Los Testigos- Margarita -Coche -Cumaná
We stay in Carriacou for a week, from June 1 till 8. In Antigua we met Dave
Godhill, an American who built himself a cozy house and 3 guesthouses in a large
garden right on the beach. He even built the furniture himself and painted
everything in bright Caribbean colors.
He invites us on Whitmonday for a trip to a sailing regatta in Petite
Martinique, a little island that we can see from his terrace. Altogether we are
18 persons on his selfbuilt motorboat, and in the easygoing atmosphere
we feel like one big family. With us are his three wonderful children and some
friends from Carriacou. We watch the regatta and rescue one of the boats that
broke its boom, have lunch on shore and have a look at the
traditional wooden boats that are built on the beach of Petite Martinique.
Before it gets dark we drive back to Windward and then sit on Dave's terrace
drinking rum punches and icetea with black sage, peppermint and lemon grass.
On our last evening in Carriacou we have lambi (conch) at the Twilight
restaurant overlooking the harbor. Next door a group of women starts singing
gospels. A boy races by on a skateboard, and a cow slowly trots home along the
beach. Tyrell Bay.
On June 8 we set sail towards Grenada and have a fantastic broad reach all the
way to St. George's lagoon, past Kick 'em Jenny, the Sisters, London Bridge and
Sugar Loaf. The hurrican season is coming closer, and people are
getting prepared: they clean out riverbeds, reinforce roofs and terraces and cut
off dry branches from trees.
We clean the boat, repair the dinghy, launder, stock up, go to the market, meet
friends and watch the soccer world championship at the Grenada Yacht Club. Every
evening we take a pleasant walk up the valleys and over the
mountains that surround St. George's harbor and find a lot of beautiful hidden
spots with grand views.
The day of the Trinidad/Tobago game against England Skip wears the Trinidad flag
hanging from the back of his hat which the locals find really nice. They want to
beat England, but unfortunately they are not successful.
It is raining a lot and the mosquitoes are bothering us and also the swarms of
rainflies that look like big moths, appear just before it rains and then
afterwards disappear completely.
We are waiting for a weather-window between all the tropical waves from the east
in order to sail to Isla Margarita in Venezuela.Though we are feeling quite at
home in Grenada, it's time to get out of the hurrican zone.
On Sunday evening, June 25, the weather moderates and we decide to set sail in
the direction of Los Testigos, a group of little islands two thirds of the way
to Margarita. We leave just before dark, because we have
approximately 90 nm to do and want to arrive in the day light.
The next morning we anchor in the bay of Playa Tamarindo (Testigo Grande), where
there are 15 other boats at anchor. We are very tired and ready to go to bed,
when Gina and Pieter that we know from Barbados arrive in their dinghy to say
hallo - what a surprise!! They are on their way to Trinidad and tell us that we
have to notify the coastguard of our presence. We contact the guardacosta on
channel 16 and they tell us that we have to go
and see them. So we have to lift the anchor again and motor over to Iguana
Grande, where we anchor, paddle ashore and climb up the hill to the office.
Jesús, the officer in charge, a friendly young guy with blue eyes, inscribes us
in a thick registry book. He informs us that on an average 10 yachts arrive here
every day. He tells us that normally foreign yachts can stay 2 days, but we can
stay three if we want to. We have to clear in officially later in Margarita.
Jesús is happy that we speak Spanish, because the other day he had to deal with
a Turkish yacht whose crew only spoke Turkish and it took him along time
drawing pictures and using sign language in order to receive and give all the
information.
Afterwards we motor back across the channel, anchor next to our friends and take
a siesta. At 6pm we are awoken by some French sailors that offer us some bonitos
that they have caught in abundance.They also gave fish to Gina and Pieter who
invite us on board their catamaran to eat altogether.
The next morning we dinghy ashore. There are many colorful high-bowed
fishing-boats lying on the white powdery beach- it's amazing how each island has
its own style of boats. Along the beach there are about 10 wooden huts
surrounded by palmtrees, bougainvilleas, tamarind and flamboyant trees. The rest
of the hilly landscape is very arid and desertlike, covered only by thorny
shrubs and cacti. Every now and then we see grassgreen and bright yellow lizards
and iguanas crawling by. We walk over to the windward side of
the island where there are big waves crashing on the beeach and much driftwood
and flotsam lying around. We find wide trucklike tracks of a turtle that came
ashore to lay its eggs and then returned to the sea.
In the bar on Playa Tamarindo the owner tells us that her family has been living
here for many generations. She says that there are about 250 persons living on
the Testigos. Life here is not easy, she compares it with living
on a boat, you have to manage with what you have. Water is a problem. It hasn't
rained for 5 months, and she has a huge mountain of laundry that she can't
wash.Every now and then they go to Margarita to buy supplies, mostly
rice and legumes. They mostly eat fish, not being able to grow vegetables for
lack of water.
Skip and Dani watch a soccer game in the livingroom of her house. The TV is
connected to a large truck battery. Barbara escapes from the mosquitoes back
into the bar on the beach, next to her a tamarind tree with a monkey on a long
line. Daniel, the owner's son, shows her the three-days-old turtles that he
collected on the beach- 175 of them! Each turtle lays approximately 200 eggs.
When it's hot, they hatch after 72 hours; when it's raining and
cooler it can take weeks. After hatching the little ones walk directly towards
the sea and in the ddaytime most of them get eaten by the frigate birds right
away. That's why Daniel catches them and feeds them with pieces
of fishuntil they are big enough to be set back into the water. After 5-6 months
they weigh about 500 to 600 kg and finally come back to the same beach to lay
their eggs.
Daniel and his mother say that they enjoy their life here because they can live
in peace and quiet and don't have to worry about thieves. What a difference to
the rest of Venezuela!
In the afternoon they set up the TV in the bar where they hang blankets to cut
off the blare. There are 12 Frenchmen and us to watch the game France against
Spain.In the end France wins, but the Frenchmen don't show much of their joy
because Dani , the only Spaniard, is too disappointed. Afterwards we invite
Dani, Gina, Pieter and their friend Rob for dinner: tasty fish patties with rice
and vegetables, 20 beers, coffee- all for 20 $.
In the morning of June 28 the sky is full of black clouds and it looks like it's
going to pour, but an hour later it has all blown away and we set off for
Margarita. In the first third of the trip we have a good breeze, but then it
dies out and we motor the rest of the way to Porlamar, Isla Margarita, where we
anchor at 6 pm. There are approximately 60 boats in the bay. The mountain tops
of the island are hidden by thick black clouds, it
must be raining up there, but the rain doesn't reach the coastal area. The sky
is dramatic- fire red, blueblack, light blue and sulphur yellow. In the high
rises of Porlamar the lights get turned on.
We stay in Porlamar until June 13. Isla Margarita is the most important tourist
center of Venezuela and a taxfree harbor, which means that everything here is
cheaper than elsewhere. One gallon of gasoil is 40 cents.
The center of town is a typical Southamerican city with thousands of small and
smallest shops of any kind, hundreds of areperias (streetstands where they sell
corn tortillas filled with chicken, fish or cheese), stands with
vegetables and fruit, men offering to change dollars (the official exchange rate
is very low). There are fantastic malls and areas with luxurious houses and
ultramodern highrises next to slums.
We walk around town or take taxis, often 30-year-old American Chevrolets that
look like they are going to collapse any minute. One day we are driven in an old
Russian Lada with faulty steering and without brakes and are just able to stop
in the middle of the crossing when the light turns red. They don't have any
driving licences here, insurance is not mandatory and for a new car to get a
licence plate it usually takes two years. It happens very often that taxidrivers
are threatened at gunpoint and forced to hand over their cars.
Clearing in in Porlamar is a joke and a mysterious procedure that takes us a
week (with an agent) though we already all have a one year visa from the Embassy
in Grenada. We hear on the VHF a Frenchman calling and asking, if he had to stay
on board and wait for the Customs to come. He could starve to death before that
happens.
At night we have to put the dinghy on deck because they warned us not to leave
it in the water. In the dark there are strange elements rowing around in
dinghies and you have to watch out that they don't steal anything. We
refuse to get paranoid about all this, but we are cautious and have a club and
the spotlight handy to scare off any intruder.
We watch the soccer finals between Italy and France in a bar in Sambil, the
newest and fanciest mall. There is an incredibly exciting atmosphere , as many
Venezuelans here are of Italian origin and the giant mall echoes with
the cheering and roaring crowd. If you ever want to watch a world cup, this is
the place to do it.
On a Sunday our taxidriver Arturo drives us around the eastern part of Margarita
. The coastal area looks like a desert, but has some very nice surfing beaches.
We drive to La Asuncion, the old capital in the interior,
situated in a green valley, and from there to El Valle, another old colonial
town with the famous church of the Virgen del Valle, patron saint of the
fishermen.El Valle is a very green town with giant mango trees and parks
that are soothing to the eye after all the arid areas full of cactus.
Some days later Veronica, a Chilean lady that has been living here for over 30
years drives us to the Macanao peninsula, the western part of Margarita that is
connected with the eastern part only by a narrow sand spit. In Boca del Rio we
visit the new marine museum, where models of fishing boats are exhibited as well
as all kinds of fish skeletons, shells etc. On our way back we get into a
floodlike rain and watch a gaucho on his horse, both
obviously enjoying the downpour - doesn't happen very often.There are no rivers
in Margarita, and on the coast it hardly ever rains. The water comes from the
mainland in a thick pipe.
The province of Margarita is called Nueva Esparta and we have been wondering
why. The indigenous people didn't like to be colonized, exploited and made
slaves by the Spaniards at all (in the 16th century Spain got about 15 tons of
pearls from the oysterbanks here every year) and they fought and resisted
heroically, like the Spartans. Most of the Margaritans today are a mixture of
Indians, some Africans (The Spaniards brought African slaves here to dive for
pearls) and Europeans.
It has not been long since Margarita has developed into an international tourist
spot. Only a few years ago it was a remote laid back island and now has to deal
with all the neagitve sides of tourism (faulty infrastructure,
crime etc.). They are now seriously thinking of connecting it with Puerto La
Cruz on the mainland by a 70 km long bridge.
After stocking up in one of the gigantic supermarkets and the equally huge Los
Conejeros market we set sail for Coche on July 13, a small island southwest of
Margarita. There is no wind, the sea is flat like a plate. We
hoist the main stay sail andmotor.
On the starboard side we can see the green mountain tops of Margarita and then
Cubagua - the pearl island,today uninhabitated-; on the port side the mountain
range of the Araya peninsula on the mainland and then the
northcoast of Coche with its bizarre sandstone rocks.After cautiously rounding
the dangerous northwest tip of Coche with its dangerous only 6 feet deep shoal
that stretches 1.5 nm into the sea we arrive at San Pedro, the main village of
Coche. We maneuver carefully through the shallow water,dodging all the fishing
boats and their nets, and anchor off the Paradise Resort north of San Pedro that
looks like an oasis amidst the arid landscape. Houses covered with palm fronds
are hidden between palm trees and purple bougainvilleas along the snowwhite sand
beach that stretches for miles along the coast. There are already 9 boats
anchored, all of them Germans that we know from Porlamar.
Unfortunately there are also three rubberneckie catamarans from Margarita here
whose guests enjoy have a great time racing around with jetskis. They
especially like to steer them sitting with their backs to the front. Skip
is afraid they might bump into our boat or anchor chain. Fortunately they leave
at around 4 o'clock and there is peace and quiet - until 7 pm, when it is
already dark and military helicopters start roaring very low and without
light above the tops of our masts.
The next morning we hire an old tattered Chevrolet taxi and drive to San Pedro.
San Pedro is a large village with nicely painted houses and wide streets,
everything is very clean and orderly. We buy some eggs, a pumpkin
and bread and then take a tour around the island. Only cacti grow here, and
vultures circle above our heads.
First we drive to Playa El Amor, where we are received by a group of children
that give us pretty shells and accompany us down the rocks to the beach to show
us the elephant. Wind and weather have carved the soft
sandstone into sculptures in ocre, red, brown and yellow colors. The children
are very well behaved, curious and bright. They tell us the names of all the
kinds of shells that we find all over the beach. It is a pleasure
to be with them!Next we drive through the pretty village of Bichar at the
entrance of the El Saco lagoon. El Saco is a large hurricane hole surrounded by
mangroves and white beaches. We visit the shell cemetery with its
mountains of piled up shells. Finally we drive by the salines, the little
airport and the ice factory which are the main sources of income of the island
beside the three hotels.
There are 12 ooo inhabitants in Coche, but the birth rate is very high and we
are wondering what the future will look like for the young people.
On July 20 we hoist all the sails and set off for Cumaná at the beginning of the
gulf of Cariaco on the mainland. We set up our fishing gear and after only a few
minutes we catch quite a big ladyfish. Dani sprays gin into its
gills until it passes away rather quietly. Unfortunately it is not as tasty as
we would have wished.
During the journey we constantly look out for suspicious boats as we are now in
pirate land. But we can only see little freight ships, fishing boats and
ferries. Once a fishing boat is coming directly at us at full speed and we
have to turn the motor on in order to dodge it. But then it comes at us again!
There is nobody to be seen on deck. Skip blows into the horn several times and
finally we see somebody jump behind the steering wheel and turn
the boat.In the late afternoon we are approaching Cumaná. The wind is blowing
hard while we are looking for the very narrow and barely marked entrance to
Cumanagoto marina in Puerto Sucre. We tie up right next to a coastguard boat and
the gasstation. We check in and are pleased that it will only cost us 12 $ a
day, water and electricity included; it is well guarded and has a mall right
next to it.
The next morning we walk through town and to the huge vegetable and fruit
market. Cumaná is the capital of Sucre province, has quite a pretty center with
colorful and lively streets lined with big trees and a walkway along
the river Manzanares.
Towards the periphery there are some wealthy areas with luxurious and well
fenced in and guarded houses, but also very poor and dangerous sections.
When you walk through town it is advisable not to have anything valuable with
you, no jewellery, no watch, co ccamera, no bag, no cellphone. We are feeling
alright, maybe also because we speak Spanish and because the people in general
are very friendly and helpful. But we have to be careful and always closely
watch the area around us.
The people are suffering a lot from the insecurity,poverty and crime in the
country. Venezuela is a very rich oil producing state, but any people do not
participate in this wealth. Under the leftist Chavez regime the country
has been run down due to an inefficient administration, corruption, nepotism,
bankruptcy of many private firms etc. Everywhere you see people standing in
line, in the banks, in the offices of authorities, at meat
counters.
The climate here is hot and humid, but in the evenings there is usually a strong
eastern breeze. In the boat all mattresses, cushions and clothes get damp, and
we have to dry them in the sun all the time so they don't become
moldy.
In the last days we have been sanding and varnishing, scrubbing the deck and
Skip has been roaming through all the boatyards, chandleries and carpentries of
the town in search of parts and products that we need. He usually he
comes back quite pleased with his encounters with the locals and his findings.
CHAP XIV. Puerto Real and Laguna Chica
PUERTO REAL and LAGUNA CHICA (Peninsula de Araya, Golfo de Cariaco)
10º 33.8 N 10º 34.0 N
64º 07.6 W 64º04.6 W
After spending two weeks in Cumaná we decide to leave on Thursday, August 3, so
not to have to listen to the bad, blaring live music from the Retro Bar in the
marina over the weekend again.
At 10.30 am we set sail for Puerto Real on the northern side of the Golfo9 de
Cariaco, on the peninsula de Araya. Due to very little wind we end up motoring
across the 8-mile stretch. The entrance to the tiny village of Puerto Real is
surrounded by shoals which - as we find out later- are much more extensive than
on the chart.
The bay itself is a very long and beautiful one with a sandy beach at the end of
it, the small fishing village sitting on the seaward point. After having a look
around we carry on to Laguna Chica.
On the way out of the bay we run gently aground in an area where there are no
shoals marked on the chart. Incredibly enough we don't do any damage, but
actually - through the gentle pressure on the keel - stop the slight water in-take
that we had before! Since then we don't have to pump out the bilge any more!
Rounding the point we head 3 miles further east until we find the almost hidden
entrance to Laguna Chica, a bay approximately ¾ miles long and an eighth of a
mile wide. We anchor at the eastern tongue of the bay in about 8
meters of water. We are the only yacht anchored in this beautifu7l bay
surrounded by greenery along the shore and the little inlets, and red and gray
barren hills behind . The color contrast of the blue sea, the green foliage and
the red mountains is quite breathtaking, especially in the early morning and
late afternoon.
At the end of the bay there is a small fishing village with some scattered
houses set in coconut palm and mango groves, a tiny chapel for the Virgen de El
Valle, two minute "stores" and a little boatyard where they build the
typical high-bowed colorful fishing skiffs. There is also a big bar where we can
drink Polar Ice beer while herds of goats, pigs and roosters stroll around the
tables.
After a couple of hours we are approached by a rowboat full of children who
bring us a bucketful of mangos and icacas (white mushroom-sized fruit). We give
them color pencils and some sugar in exchange, because they tell us
that there is a scarcity of sugar in Venezuela at the moment and they don't have
any to sweeten their coffee.
Later, after sunset, we hear singing and laughing echoing across the bay and
see the children dancing in front of their little houses and jumping in the
water. They seem to have a good time.
On Sunday morning we row ashore and walk over the red dusty dirt road and over
the hill to Langoleta, the main village in the area. Very narrow streets with
colorfully painted houses and huge shade trees: a very cosy
village with a big main square and a church approximately 3 by 6 meters; along
the waterfront fishing boats, nets, boatyards, chickens, dogs and pigs.
We are such an unexpected and rare sight that people are staring at us as if we
come from another planet. But then they greet us very friendly and even want
their pictures taken. We feel very welcome among them.
Back on the boat some boys come out on a row boat and ask if they can borrow a
diving mask. After some hours they come back and offer us a bucketful of clams
and conch, which is very nice, but which we decline thinking that they need them
more themselves.
After almost a week we try to stock up on food, but there is very little to be
had. You have to be in the right place at the right time, f.ex. to catch the
vegetable truck that drives by with the loudspeaker blaring "onions, vegetables,
get your vitamins", but doesn't stop until somebody flags it down. We decide to
go back to Cumaná to get ready for our next adventure.
Tuesday morning, after a beautiful sunrise with a double rainbow arching over
Cumaná, we motor back. Along the way we are accompanied by a frolicking school
of very happy dolphins who pass by many schools of sardines so they can continue
to play with us. At 10.30 am we tie up at the marina in Cumaná, hook up to
electricity and water, take showers and the laundry and go shopping.
L A G U N A G R A N D E 10º34 N 64º03 W
Early on Monday morning, Aug 14, we take a por puesto - taxi from Cumanà to
Puerto La Cruz, about 50 miles west in the direction of Caracas. In a tattered
rusty American car we sway along the steep curvy coastal road, we
in the front and a local family of three in the back, over green rain-forest
hills with breathtaking views of the bays and islands of Mochima National Park
and the Caribbean Sea.
Just before the descent to Puerto La Cruz our vehicle gives up. But some moments
later another taxi stops in front of us- the electrician! How lucky!
He improvises something with the wires and insulation tape and we make it to the
bus terminal.
We do some shopping in town and then have a look at Marina Bahìa Redonda- a
meeting place for yachties from all over the Caribbean during the hurricane
season.
It is a very nice parklike marina with a huge pool, a cosy bar (where they play
a lot of domino), shop and restaurant, but it is also a "gated ghetto" with
walls and fences and guards because it is situated directly next to a
very unsafe part of the town where thefts and shoot-outs occur quite often.
Marina Cumanagoto, where our boat is at the moment, is also very secured, but we
are still able to walk into town whereas in Bahía Redonda we would only be able
to move by taxi.
When we come back to the bus terminal we are told that the road to Cumaná has
been blocked for hours. We wait and wait and finally hop onto a very comfortable
modern bus with airconditioning that takes us back to Cumaná
after 3 hours of slowly negotiating the mud.
On Aug 15 we cross the Cariaco Gulf again and anchor in Laguna Grande. The
dolphins accompany us again almost all the way. We motor, for there is no wind
at all. Laguna Grande is a huge area with a lot of little bays lined by green
mangroves.It is the ideal hurricane hole and an enchanted place surrounded by
high red desert mountains where only thorny shrubs and cacti grow. Nobody lives
here. But the valleys are exuberantly green and some of the shrubs have bright
yellow flowers.
We slowly motor through the lagoon and finally anchor in a narrow channel
between an island and the mainland. Just opposite of us we see an eagle's nest
in a cactus. It is built like a hammock, and there are two little
eagles in it that are continuously fed by their parents. Grassgreen parrots are
flitting back and forth, we hear a woodpecker and watch the pelicans awkwardly
plunging into the water head-first to catch a fish.
We can see the whole length of the lagoon and behind the narrow entrance the
mainland mountains and after dark some lights of Cumanà. At sunrise and sunset,
in rain and sunshine we can watch beautiful color spectacles. The
desertlike landscape changes its colors all the time and reflects itself in the
water.
Every now and then fishermen come by with their boats in order to collect shells
from the mangroves. They all know us by now and like us because we took some
photos of them and sent them to them by the ferry.
On the weekend a group of nine American boats arrive. They all anchor close to
us, visit in their dinghies and invite us for happy hour. Nice people, mostly
couples that decided to live on a boat after retiring. Many of them
have roamed the Caribbean for years. They are a little anxious here as most of
them don't speak much Spanish, relations between the US and Venezuela haven't
been too friendly lately and they dread pirates. After two days we
are on our own again. It is quiet again, the doves coo, the eagles circle above
our heads and big greenyellow and redbrown butterflies land on our deck.
At night the water glitters like the milkyway. When we stir it with the paddle
it glows like a magic wand. When little waves hit the shore the phosphorescence
glows like a flashlight rolling along the beach. The hour
before sunrise is the most awesome: the water is silvery and flat like a mirror.
It is absolutely still. The hills are black against the sky and one can see only
the slightest sliver of the waning moon.
We want to climb on top of one of the higher mountains, but in the valley on the
way there we get to an absolutely impenetrable wall of shrubs and cacti.
There are no roadways here, only goat tracks, and even the goats are unable to
get through this vegetation. You can only walk on the higher parts of the
mountains where it gets too dry for anything to grow. But you cannot cross
the valleys. We try different spots and finally give up.
On Aug.22, we motor back to Cumanà to get some fruit and vegetables, this time
for some weeks in advance. We buy green plantains, green pineapples, unripe
avocados and a huge cucumberlike watermelon of 11 kilos. Now we are in the salon
sitting under a bunch of green bananas and next to us are green mangas (=big
mangos)ripening in a box, hopefully.
The weather report sounds a little scary. There is a hurricane cone approaching
the Windward Islands from 500 miles west of the Cape Verdes, and a cyclone from
Trinidad coming closer in our direction. We have taken
the jib, the awning and the bimini down and secured the boat with a cat's cradle
of ropes.
M E D R E G A L V I L L A G E (Península de Araya)
10º 32.00 N 63º 48.20 W
25.9.06
About a month ago we left Cumaná in order to go further east into the Gulf of
Cariaco. We had talked to another sailor, Eduardo on "Opa" (one of his ancestors
was one of Stoertebeckers pirates.), who recommended us some
anchorages along this coast. But the tiny bays were either too rough, like Punta
Cangrejo, or too solitary for us to be able to sleep well. So we decided to go
further to Medregal Village, a yachties' meeting point not very far from the
eastern end of the gulf.
A Belgian, Jean-Marc, built a hotel there some years ago, with a restaurant,
bar, pool, nice garden and showers. Many people leave their boats anchored there
while they travel around South-America or go home for a while.
Jean-Marc takes care of the boats,And he is also setting up a boatyard with a
haul-out facility so people can
have work done there. The place is secure, at night armed guards patrol the
area. It's a very popular and safe place to be.
The only disadvantage is that it is in the middle of nowhere. The next village
is miles away, without any connection by bus or taxi. Jean-Marc taxies the
people to Cumaná on Wednesdays, Carúpano on Fridays and Cariaco on Saturdays.
After having stayed around the arid, desertlike western part of the peninsula
for so long, we really enjoyed to travel overland through the lush vegetation in
the eastern part of the gulf-area to Carúpano on the northern
Caribbean coast. Carúpano is a very small but incredibly bustling town,
especially on Fridays and on the 1st and 15th of every month when people get
paid and can do their shopping.After spending an hour in the Carúpano bank to
get some money (30 people in front of us.), we strolled around town and down to
the waterfront, to the
big municipal market, back up into town to the park on Plaza Cristóbal, where we
sat down in the shade and watched the shoeshine boys polish hiking boots. There
are good supermarkets, hardware stores and chandlery shops that make the
two-hour but-breaking trip worth while. On the way back not only did we have to
fit 9 people into the Toyota Landcruiser but also all the groceries stacked
between our legs, piled up between us on the benches to the point that we were
packed up like sardines.
Every time we hit a "sleeping policeman" (a traffic bump) a collective groan
would rise and cases of beer, cases with ice, trays with eggs and wooden boards
would shift around. Many people ask what we are doing all day: to go shopping in
Carúpano is a 12-hour excursion altogether. Sometimes it's not as easy as at
home where you have your shops just down the street.
One Saturday morning another 45-minute drive just to go to the produce market in
Cariaco. The market was very crowded, many people pushing and shoving. We had
just bought the last of the vegetables we needed when an old
man standing next to Skip dropped his bag full of little peppers. When Skip bent
down to help pick them up, someone reached his hand into his pocket and stole
the rest of his money. It was a perfect setup. In the time it took for him to
turn around and see who it had been, the thief had disappeared and also the old
man - all within seconds. A good lesson learned - never take your hands off your
money, even if it is to help somebody.
At this time in summer they have their fiestas for the Virgen del Valle, the
patron saint of the fishermen, in the gulf area. People were constantly dressing
her in ever prettier clothes and parading her on the coastguard boats from one
village to the next. There would be a lot of noise from all the fire crackers
and a lot of music and dancing at night. One Sunday morning they even paraded
the Virgin around the pool .
In Medregal we enjoyed some good meals and some good company. There were
interesting people from all over the world there, and they had a lot of good
stories to tell. We were getting more laid back by the day and after 3 weeks
decided to return to civilization so we wouldn't end up like the couple that
sailed away from Florida 11 years ago for a trip around the world and has only
got to Venezuela so far.. So we went back to Cumaná where we are now, stocking
up again and getting ready to go west towards Panama.
CHAP XVII. Mochima, El Oculto, Puerto la Cruz
M O C H I M A , E L O C U L T O 10º 20.95 N 64º 20.35 W
P U E R T O L A C R U Z 10º 12.80 N 64º 40.20 W
On Sept. 29 we finally leave Cumaná to go exploring new territory towards the
west. At 11 pm, after motoring down the coast, we arrive at the entrance of
Mochima National Park. The bay uis approximately 4 nautical miles deep with many
hidden coves good for anchoring, but also good for robberies at night. After an
hour we arrive at the end of the bay and anchor off Pueerto Viejo, the only
village in the area.
Puerto Viejo looks like a small fishing village but actually is quite touristic.
Most fishing boats are used as water taxis to ferry the local sunseeking people
to the beaches. The village itself is made up of one and a half streets, two
vegetable stores - one with half rotten fruit and greenery and the other opens
whenever they feel like it-, a couple of restaurants, no real bars because
everybody buys their drinks in a store and drinks in the street. Almost every
house has a room or two for rent. During the week it's rather nice and quiet,
but on the weekend very loud with music and boats ferrying back and forth.
The anchorage itself is very pleasant and gives you the feeling that you are