Beth and Evans

19 September 2013 | Mills creek
06 August 2013 | smith cove
04 August 2013 | cradle cove
31 July 2013 | Broad cove, Islesboro Island
24 July 2013 | Maple Juice Cove
06 June 2013 | Maple Juice Cove, Maine
02 June 2013 | Onset, cape cod canal
20 May 2013 | Marion
18 May 2013 | Marion
16 May 2013 | Mattapoisett
10 May 2013 | Block ISland
02 May 2013 | Delaware Harbour of Refuge
16 April 2013 | Sassafras River
01 April 2013 | Cypress creek
06 March 2013 | Galesville, MD
20 August 2012 | South River, MD
09 August 2012 | Block Island
06 August 2012 | Shelburne, Nova Scotia
20 July 2012 | Louisburg
18 July 2012 | Lousiburg, Nova Scota

Cruising round The Saintes

04 February 2000 | Bourg, The Saintes, Guadeloupe
Hello everyone - We're just back from a lovely early evening walk ashore on one of our favorite islands in the Caribbean. Bourg, the only town in this archipelago of a half dozen small islands located 15 miles south of Guadeloupe, combines French sophistication with Caribbean flair. One-person wide sidewalks line narrow concrete streets wide enough for one car or two vespas. Everything spills out onto the sidewalks - the tables and chairs of cafes and restaurants, the batik clothing and postcards of tourist stores, the gold and green watercolors and silk screens of art shops, the freezer cases and fresh produce of grocery stores - forcing pedestrians into the streets where they weave around parked cars and dodge tooting vehicles. People on foot and on wheels share the streets with the animal population of Bourg - heavily plumed roosters, a huge variety of dogs and the occasional fleet feline. Music seems to come from everywhere - the steel band practicing down by the waterfront, the church bells chiming the quarter hour, wind chimes sighing from doorways and windows, the rustle of palm fronds. Except for siesta from noon until three when the streets are practically deserted, the town has a festival feel to it, whether at 7 in the morning or midnight.

Bourg's main street runs for about a mile along the waterfront; its town square consists of a small brick plaza off the ferry dock surrounded by restaurants and snack shops. Caribbean gingerbread-style architecture dominates. On our walk ashore this evening, the setting sun lit the tops of the buildings drawing our eyes upward to the tracery of woodwork around many of the eaves, the carved railings on the small balconies and the decorated shutters on each window. The Caribbean palette of pinks, blues, yellows and greens made rich by the slanting sun only enhanced the beauty of architectural details we'd hardly noticed before.

The restaurants range from top quality French cuisine through creperies to traditional creole fare. But for us the Saintes' most irresistible culinary delight is ice cream. Ice cream is not common to the Caribbean and most of what's available comes in the form of outrageously priced Dove and Nestle ice cream bars shipped from the States. But the last time we were here, cruising friends introduced us to a little snack bar tucked away from the main street which made its own ice cream - guava, passion fruit, pineapple, coconut, nutmeg, cinnamon - all the tastes of the islands. This time, we've found the ice cream market has positively exploded, with just about every restaurant, snack bar and creperie boasting a full complement of homemade flavors. When we went ashore yesterday afternoon just after the siesta, two women not ten yards apart on the main street were selling ice cream straight from the ice cream maker sitting in a small hand cart. Some cruisers might be able to resist the lure of homemade ice cream, but we are not among them.

Though the town caters to tourists, it refuses to become quaint. On either end of town, a huge fleet of gaily-colored working fishing boats make their home in shallow fishing harbors. Go ashore early enough as we did this morning, and you'll find a burly man the color of coffee cutting the head from a still flapping dorado three feet long. The restaurant owners compete in the bidding against a few half awake yachties while the man carves huge, bloody steaks from the quivering flesh. Walk up the hill behind the main street and the souvenir shops disappear within half a block, replaced by traditional Caribbean housing from tin-roofed wooden shacks to elegant stuccoed two-story houses. Hibiscus climb concrete walls and twine around iron fences behind which fruit trees of every type can be glimpsed.

Of course, it's not all sightseeing and no work. We spent several hours today playing musical halyards. We finally installed a two-to-one halyard on the main having decided we'd like to test the idea cruising around here for a bit, then change back before the Atlantic passage if we don't like it. We had to replace the rope clutch for the main as well because of the smaller diameter halyard we used. We used the old main halyard to replace one of the spinnaker halyards which had some chafe on it. Then we had to get rid of a messenger line that had gotten wrapped around several of the halyards inside the mast and was causing great trouble getting anything up or down. That all took from 9 this morning until 2 this afternoon. Beth took Evans to the top of the mast twice and about a third of the way up three times. We're debating which of us is more worn out or sunburned this evening.

But it's been wonderful to be through with responsibilities in the States and let ourselves fully be on *Hawk.* For the first time since we got here in November, we're finally doing what we most enjoy - sailing in the tropical winds and sunshine, dropping our anchor where it pleases us, taking a swim or going ashore for a hike, shopping every few days for fresh fruit, veggies and bread for the next few days, spending a day or two, then off to the next harbor. We're enjoying a month off, a vacation of sorts - our next writing deadlines are March 1.

As we close this, the joy-filled sound of a steel band dances around the anchorage. We're just cruising. Wish you were here.

Beth and Evans
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Vessel Name: Hawk