06/24/2012, Canouan, The Grenadines
Having spent a week in Bequia we were eager to move ahead. We still had a few weeks before we had to be in Trinidad for the hurricane season, but we wanted to make sure we got there with time to spare. Actually, the plan to go all the way to Trinidad solidified recently, when Gabriel was offered a short term contract with a company in Ontario. Until then we planned on spending the summer in Grenada and surrounding areas, hoping to pick up some work and make a little bit of money while still enjoying the cruising lifestyle. The opportunity back in Canada, however, was just too good to pass up. It will give us a chance to make a lot of money fast, which we will use to upgrade a few things on the boat and put more towards our cruising budget for next year. Trinidad is where we are going to leave the boat on the hard to be stored for the hurricane season and later do work on, once we return from Canada. The idea of leaving the boat for 4 months is an agonizing one. We have really come to love this way of life and suddenly we are reaching the end of the line, the end of our adventure. Perhaps that's a bit too dramatic, considering that we'll be back in the Caribbean in a few months, though I can't help but feel nostalgic. Reality was encroaching on our dream. We had to start thinking of arrangements for the boat, our travel and Pickle's travel. All in due time, we still had some island hopping to enjoy before the hiatus from our hiatus. We raised the sails and steered for Canouan in the chain of St. Vincent and the Grenadine Islands, where we made an overnight stop before moving on to Tobago Cays. Once anchored Gerrard, Gabe and I made our way to shore, to explore the small village that encircles Charlestown Bay. When we were tying up the dinghy a small man with blood shot eyes staggered toward us and offered his assistance. We asked him where a good place to eat local food might be, but he only guided us into a beachfront hotel. Perhaps hoping for gratuity from the hotel dining room staff for brining people in, or more likely because he took us for the fancy kind that would frown upon a cheap meal in an alley shack. He was wrong. A cheap meal in an alley shack is exactly what we were in the mood for and we let ourselves be led by the man, who introduced himself as Mr.Williams, through the poorly lit streets of Charlestown. We could barely understand his drunken garble as he fed us tidbits about the local food and his career as a fisherman. Fishing? Now there was a language Gabe could understand. They jabbered on as we walked. The town was alive with activity. Cool evening breeze brought people out onto porches and curbside. Small bars lining the main street were filling up with loud music and swaying bodies. Mr.Williams rushed ahead of us, waving to and greeting everyone in site. People waved back and shouted his name, but we got the feeling that Mr.Williams was know by everyone in town for all the wrong reasons. We followed just the same. He first took us into a noisy bar with a deli counter, from behind which his sister was serving up bowls of pork sause and boiled breadfruit. Neither the food nor the atmosphere were appealing enough to make us stay. We apologized to Mr.Williams and his sister and asked him if there was some place else we could eat. He said something inaudible and pointed up the road. We shrugged and followed his lead. The place he brought us to was Mangrove Cafe, an open beach restaurant with a small bar and a large BBQ. The young man tending to it was leaning over a rack of pork chunks, engulfed in fragrant smoke that rose high in the air. We set down, ordered a round of beers and invited Mr.Williams to sit with us. He didn't think twice about it. A DJ was playing reggae tunes from the corner of the restaurant, a few other tourists and many locals soon filled the place. We really enjoyed the atmosphere and commented on how we wouldn't have stumbled on the place if it wasn't for Mr.Williams. Our chance encounter deserved another round of beers. Besides we needed something to wash down the BBQ pork down with. We ate, we drank, we were merry and after bidding Mr.Williams goodnight we strolled back to our boats for a night of rest before departing for Tobago Cays in the morning.
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06/21/2012, St. Vincent and the Grenadines
We flew toward St. Vincent on a steady SE wind, but once we got there we were becalmed in the lee of the island. We expected as much or at least considered that possibility. What we didn't consider was having water flood our engine. Our sails were beginning to flog in the dying wind and it was time to motor, but when we tried to put it on it turned a few times then ceased. Gabe immediately opened up the engine room to get a better look at what was happening. Judging by the engine's behavior he concluded that following seas must have rushed inside the motor through the exhaust. It's an incredibly rare incident, but it happens and after everything our little Yanmar has been through already it was now choking on salt water. We concluded that there was nothing to be done while under way. The motor required a flush and 3 oil changes to get it back in working order and that would have to wait until we got to Bequia. But how do we make any forward progress with no wind and no motor? The wind was coughing up brief gusts of air into the sails, but mostly we were dead in the water. Under motor power now himself, Gerard was watching Rodeo struggle forward at pitiable 1 knot/hr. Without even waiting to be asked, he called on the radio and offered to tow us the length of the island beyond which we could pick up wind and move on under sail. We accepted his offer without hesitation. There was nothing else to be done.
Saltwhistle back tracked a bit to meet us on our starboard, tow line in place. He tossed it across the narrow gap between our boats, to where I stood at the bow waiting. Once I had the line I made it fast around the bow cleat, then Gerard pulled forward and a few moments later we felt the gentle tug of the line and we felt Rodeo pick up speed. We weren't sure if Saltwhistle could actually pull the weight of us behind, but the scheme worked, the line held and we managed to get pass the lee of St. Vincent in no time. Out in the open the wind came in steady once more and we sailed for another 5 miles towards Bequia. Port Elizabeth is a wide and deep harbour and we were fairly confident that we could enter and anchor in it without a motor, but Saltwhistle, who went ahead to scope out the anchorage would be on standby to lend a hand again, if needed. With his dinghy and 15HP outboard motor in the water he waited for us to arrive. If the wind died and we couldn't pull into the anchorage under sail, he would pull alongside Rodeo in his dinghy and side tow us into our spot. Luckily the wind blew light and steady through the low hills surrounding Port Elizabeth and we were able to reduce sails, slow down and maneuver into the anchorage without incident. We were quite proud of ourselves for having accomplished this. Anchoring can be tricky under the best of conditions and we managed to do it without a running motor. We couldn't have gotten there without Gerard though and we wanted to pay him back for being a pal. It also happened to be his birthday, all the more reason for a celebration, so we invited him over for supper. We caught 2 beautiful Dorado on the way and half of one ended up in a creamy caper wine sauce, served over rice with a side of fresh salad, the ingredients for which I had picked up from a street vendor back in Soufriere, St. Lucia. The rich taste of those home grown vegetables reminded me of the organic flavors that permeated produce from my grandmother's garden. The lettuce was crisp, refreshing with a tinge of bitterness, tomatoes juicy and sweet and the green onion fragrant and sharp. It was a wonderful compliment to the mild, creamy taste of the Dorado. A meal worthy of celebrating our friend's birthday and our camaraderie.
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Marty & Gabrielle
06/18/2012, St. Lucia
Marigot Bay in St. Lucia greeted us and Saltwhistle in a spectacle of lush hillsides decorated with vibrant tropical flowers and posh homes. At the back of the bay lay an upscale marina complex with all imaginable amenities. Calm waters, serene surroundings and the presence of many other boats put us at ease about being in St. Lucia. From what we read the country can be rough, and instances of burglary are common. Injected with this feeling of confidence and security we moved anchor the following day to Anse la Raye. It was Friday, the day of Fish Fest in Anse la Raye, a town wide street fair that showcases local cuisine and music. This town was nothing like the bay we came from. It was shabby and grey, its residents clearly not the well-to-do folk of Marigot. We felt a bit uneasy when we first got to shore, but after we chatted with a couple of locals and guzzled a few glasses of rum punch we started to relax and really enjoy ourselves. We carried this feeling of relaxation with us back to the boat and well into the evening until we heard thumping along the hull. We paused the movie we were watching and listened. Another thump and voices came in from outside heightening all of our senses. We sprang up and flew through the companion way and into the cockpit where we saw two dark figures swimming at the side of Rodeo. We freaked. One of them had his hands on the rail and was about to pull himself up on deck. They startled us and we startled them. I don't think they were expecting us to be on board. We started to scream at them, me in English, Gabe in Portuguese. With a confused tone in his voice one of them exclaimed that they're just looking, but it was too late for explanations. Gabe had already called out for me to bring out the "gun" and was promising to kill them for the intrusion. The intruders scurried off at the point of our spear gun and it was then we noticed that there were four of them in total, two on each side of the boat. In just a few blurry seconds we had the motor going and were weighing anchor to get out of Anse la Raye. With his voice already hoarse and strained, Gabe continued to scream and point the spear gun at the lot of them as we turned around and pulled out of the bay. While under way back to Marigot Bay we called the coast guard and made a report of what just happened. They promptly sent a Police boat out to check on us and then to check on Gerard and Saltwhistle who stayed behind in Anse la Raye. We reunited with him the following morning and were happy to find that he had a peaceful night of rest in the same anchorage we escaped from. Our good impression of St.Lucia was now marred by our brush with the shark burglars and we wanted to get out as fast as we could. We sailed south along the coast to town of Soufriere, where we cleared out at customs then, barricaded inside our boats at anchor, we waited to depart in the morning. It is heartbreaking to have to take such precautions, but we continued to lock the boat up at night until we got to Grenada. We didn't enjoy much of St.Lucia, which is a shame, because the island is beautiful. We set sail from there just as the sun slipped out from behind Gros and Petit Piton, sending golden streaks of lights through chalky morning haze. Heat would burn through it later in the day, but at the time everything was hushed and soft, wrapped in cotton. It looked innocent and alluring and it was hard not to admire it, but we were happy to press on for Bequia in St. Vincent and the Grenadines.
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06/18/2012, Martinique
After Guadeloupe we made two brief stops, one in Martinique and one in St.Lucia. Martinique's modest, little coast towns were the perfect backdrop for days of leisurely activities. We were sluggish and unmotivated to do much in those days except snorkel in search of turtles. I had been waiting for an opportunity to swim with them and to watch them more closely under water. With the exception of Culebra in the Spanish Virgin Islands, I've only been able to spot them as they come up for air. Even then it's an event that prompts shrieks of excitement out of me. Finally, though, in a quiet anchorage of Grande Anse d'Arlet we found a number of them feeding on the grassy bay bottom. Mottled gray and brown, they were hard to spot against the grass, but as they moved around we saw that there was a whole group of them. They slowly nibbled on fine blades of turf, occasionally swimming up to the surface for air. One gulp, two gulps and back down for more salad. They moved slowly and awkwardly through the water. Their bodies waddled under the surface while they beat their way forward with one front flipper then the other, though there was certain gracefulness to their efforts. Gabe and I kept grunting at each other through our snorkels, pointing out individual turtles as they came into view. I was so happy I kept bringing my hands together into soundless underwater claps. As we swam away from the turtles and back toward the boat we noticed an enormous black cloud moving through the water. A bit spooked but curious we waited while it approached. It turned out to be a school of little fish swimming through the bay like an apparition. It was made up of what must have been thousands of tiny fish swimming in unison, swerving instinctively as we swam toward and into their mass. When we dove into the depth of the school the fish dashed in opposite directions then converged back into their formation ahead, over and behind us, engulfing us in its swift current of movements. We love getting in the water to explore even in the most unassuming areas, because we never know what we're going to find.
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06/15/2012, Les Saintes
It was inevitable. My comic relief, my extra shot of estrogen, my gal pal Justyna has left Rodeo to rejoin the real world. We tried very hard to convince her to stay. Gabe, Gerrard and myself felt that it would be perfectly acceptable for Justyna to call up good old boss and tell him that due to unforeseen circumstances she wasn't able to make it back to work for another...hmmm, say week or two. A few days before leaving Justyna sustained a minor head injury while climbing under Saltwhistle's life lines. After being terrorized by a scratch and win ticket hustler, thrown overboard and now nursing a conspicuous forehead laceration she could have easily made her boss believe that she was injured, traumatized and unable to fly home, at least not for a while. We begged, we pleaded, we reasoned. But, unlike ourselves, Justyna is a scrupulous, hard working individual, who actually likes her job. She was impervious to our questionable arguments and misguided methods of persuasion. She couldn't stay. She wouldn't stay, but she did promise to come back. I hold on to that promise. It was such a treat to have her spend those 9 days with us. She is a courteous guest and a lighthearted, high spirited companion. Most of all she's a damn good friend. We all had a lot of fun together. We shared such great memories, in fact, that when we got to Dominica we passed up the opportunity to seek more waterfalls inland, because we felt that this new adventure might take away from what we experienced with Justyna. As strange as that might sound I, at least, wasn't ready for any awe inspiring sight seeing sans Justyna.
Despite ourselves we've seen many beautiful places since she left. We spent the next 5 days in Les Saintes. A cluster of picturesque islands off Guadeloupe's south coast. Terre-de-Haut, the main town of the archipelago was one of those places we could see ourselves settling in. It was charming, unhurried. Its residents laid back and friendly. The islands receive enough tourists to sustain local businesses and the most populated areas have just enough modern conveniences to afford a comfortable, delicious life filled with French delicacies. What more could you ask for?
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06/12/2012, Deshaies, Guadeloupe
The following day we arrived in Guadeloupe. What a delightful sight it was. It appeared like a mirage at first. Bleak and hazy, shrouded in the milky vail of a torrential downpour. Heavy clouds hung low over the highest peaks, drenching the island from head to toe. As we got closer the wind swept waves of heavy rain our way. When we saw it approaching we got ourselves ready for a rain shower. With soap and shampoo on standby we stripped down and waited for the energizing pallets of fresh water to drive down on us. Fresh water is invaluable to cruisers like us, so we take advantage of the free supply as much as we can. After an all night passage and lots of salt spray it's a treat for both Rodeo and us. When the rain cleared Guadeloupe exploded in front of us in its dense, fragrant glory. The island is the most luscious one we've seen. People describe its shape as a lopsided butterfly, but to me it looks like a set of lungs. With every habitable square inch of its ground covered in oxygen producing flora, Guadeloupe could easily be called the lungs of the Caribbean. Like thick, green icing spread over the land, vegetation was dripping off gently sloping peaks, over the cliffs and down toward the water, staining it with its rich green colour. In the distance town of Deshaies sparkled from the recent rainfall. Air was perfumed with aromas of wet plants, moist ground and the promise of extraordinary adventures.
Deshaies Bay is where we spent the rest of the week with Justyna and Gerrard. We enjoyed the leisurely atmosphere of the town and all the benefits of being on French territory. Strong, flavourful coffee with fresh pastries in the morning, baguettes and camembert cheese for lunch, local vegetables, fish and French wine at supper. Guadeloupe was a feast for all senses. The pungent scent of honey locust trees. The sweet smell of mangoes we picked off the ground at the side of the road. The sound of crickets and tree frogs echoing throughout the bay in the evenings. And then the sights. We rented a car on Friday to drive up to the interior of the island in search of waterfalls. Equipped with a rudimentary map of the island provided by the rental company we took the long way round Basse Terre, the western part of Guadeloupe, to get a feel for the island and eventually lost our bearings, but found a waterfall. Ecrevisses Falls was waiting for us at the end of a perfectly laid stone path that lead us through a dense forest. The minute we stepped in there we were overcome by its enormity and the diversity of life inside of it. We felt like lilliputs in this place of exaggerated shapes. We walked among ferns spread out overhead like patio umbrellas, palm leaves as big as surf boards and old growth, vine covered trees that towered over us like mountains. The dense, rich green of it punctuated only by vibrant bursts of tropical flowers. Hermit crab, lizards and snails were scurrying about the ground. Mourning doves, bananaquit and hummingbirds gilded the canopy. Every bit of the forest was buzzing with life.
We swam in the small pool at the foot of the falls. Every cell of my body seemed to be relishing the refreshing, sweet taste of the water. Then we soaked up our surroundings as we lay, like salamanders, on encircling rocks, drying off before heading back to the car. Corbit Falls was the next one to see. This much bigger waterfall could only be viewed from a platform at the base of it, where it fed into a rocky mountain stream, but the trail leading to it was so wonderful we didn't mind not taking a dip. Another skillfully laid wood and stone path took us in and out of the heart of the forest that was even more spectacular than the last. Later, driving down the mountain, we found a marked but unkept path that guided us toward another waterfall. The narrow footpath, wet and slippery from frequent rainfalls, ran deep into the heart of the forest and along another rocky stream. We followed it down until its crystal clear water emptied into a deep, moon shaped gorge where the water pooled before cascading away, deeper into the forest. Justyna wasted no time getting in. She eased herself into it at the shallow end of the pool and said the water was freezing, which was surprising, because at our feet the water trickling over the rocks was warm. We read that there are many thermal springs in the mountains, and the water coming out of the forest, flowing gently over the walls of the gorge must have come from one of those spring. But the water that fed into the waterfall was indeed cold and the rest of us decided to jump into the depth of it in a swift leap off the enclosing rock. The jump and the water were invigorating. We swam for as long as we could stand the temperature and then laid with our backs pressed against the tall walls of the gorge, where the hot spring water trickled down and over our cooled bodies. The best part, we had the waterfall all to ourselves for a good half hour. Everything about that spot was sublime. We drank it up with all of our senses.
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