Your Friendly Narrative Manager Samantha Wells. Photo taken on top of Morne Gommier, Martinique.
Carissimi!
We are in Antigua's North Sound enjoying some well deserved boat ownership rewards time (= doing very little), including watching the
RORC Caribbean 600 regatta contestants sail north past us, enjoying the full moon and the sunrises, counting the Star...links, swimming, and exploring by dinghy. Yesterday, for example, we landed our Achilles on Exchange Island, or The Acropolis as we've come to call it during the years - as its lime-based rock formations are very defined and geometrical, making it all look like a scene from ancient Greece! It was a pleasure to "bushwhack" among the scrub and succulents, enjoy the infinite shades of blue of the ocean and going back to our dinghy wading in the water, clear bottom and soft sand under our feet, which we were splashing like little kids!
The Cap'n has put new bearings on our Silent X wind turbine, a six hours project involving, among others, climbing up the secondary mast to take the turbine down, pulling out the old bearings stuck in their casing with solvents and a good 2 pound hammer, climbing in and out the starboard lazarette fifteen times, stand, kneel, squat and crouch to use a range of tools spread out on the aft deck on a protective blanket. Repeat to install. Your Friendly Narrative Manager helped as best as she could: recently she's been nursing tennis elbow on the left arm and golfer elbow on the right, yay, but that hasn't affected her "passing the tools" and "holding stuff still" skills.
Since my last post, the weather has continued to be intense: hurricanes, storms, brutally hot temperatures and, this year, cold front passages in the Atlantic pushing very far south (Anegada Passage! Cape Cod to Mexico!). You know things are bad if you're "forced" to drink hot chocolate, wear warm clothing and test the boat heaters, as happened to us during a particularly cold and rainy day while tucked inside the cove at Green Island not long ago, here in the Caribbean! And did I mention the really long period of reverse trades (= zero trade winds) we experienced during the holidays? Crazy mon.
Weather notwithstanding, we were able to wrap up 2023 with seven fabulous weeks in Martinique, an island so French that even the pretty clouds hovering over it are shaped like baguettes. We sailed there from Grenada last November after hurricane season was over-ish. The passage featured a memorable "I can't believe my eyes!" moment: while in the proximity of Carriacou, a catamaran rammed into The Sisters, not a visually understated rocky feature, at full sail! We had been monitoring the heading of this cat for a while saying "come on, they must know, surely they are gonna stop... or are they?" Crash! Nobody was on deck at the time but shortly afterwards an incredulous skipper emerged from below and broadly assessed the damage, which luckily mustn't have been too bad as he was able, eventually, to take the cat off the rocks and motor to Tyrell Bay. The damage to our jaws however must have been a little more serious, as we were well in the lee of St. Vincent before we could bring them from the "dropped" back to the "closed" position, such was the extent of our disbelief!
We approached Martinique's south coast with some trepidation as the bays of St. Anne and Le Marin, being popular cruising destinations (beaches, marina, boatyard, chandleries, stores, restaurants and supermarkets...) are always chock full with boats. Let me re-phrase that, there must have been at least 400 boats when we were there, including derelicts, squatters and a sprinkle of treacherous wrecks with rotting masts sticking outside the water.
Coming in, we gave a wide berth to the cardinal buoy along the channel marking the shallows to the east of it. With few exceptions, including a sailboat we saw coming at dusk and operated by an experienced crew who easily sailed all the way in while shouting commands in loud, cheerful and rather tipsy French, I can't tell you how many boats we've seen ignoring the buoy and either running aground or getting very close to run aground. Come to think of it, it feels like it's been a Running Aground Fest wherever we've been! Even here in Antigua we've seen a few episodes that qualify for the next "Epic Fails" series on You Tube. But back to the buoy, even if you aren't familiar with it, doesn't the sight of two black triangles, tips pointing against each other, on top of a bright yellow shaft inspire even the slightest sense of alert?
Anyway, after picking up one of the Marina Le Marin's moorings and during the following couple of weeks we checked most of our to-do list, including:
- Clearing C&I, easy peasy.
- Provisioning.
- Having a wooden swim step made to replace a previous one that decided to take a dive into the ocean while sailing from Grenada.
- Buying the famous French Islands Digicel data plan as we waited for a new Starlink to be shipped to us. The previous one failed and the saga around shipping its replacement almost deserves a blog post all by itself.
- Assessing the quality of croissants and pains au chocolat through frequent and rigorous sampling at the boulangerie Douceurs Marinois, possibly the most important item in our to-do list.
- Fixing the staysail foiler, which came apart at two of its joints after we unfurled the sail leaving Grenada.
- Getting the hulls scrubbed by highly recommended local divers who, in reply to the Cap'n making them politely notice that they had left the job unfinished, giving just a surface pass to the hulls, said, with a hint of Gallic presumption, "You should have told us how clean you wanted the hulls, this is how we always do it for the charter cats". Ok, so: 1) if that's the type job you deliver that's obviously part of the reason why charter cats can't sail 2) for the records, a basic hull scrub does include removing any growth and barnacles completely so "you should have told us how clean you wanted" my... dèrriere. We had done a better partial job ourselves while in Grenada - we've had a crazy amount of growth last season, basically our own private reef! Bottom paint change is in the plans - and we'd actually have a go at it again before hiring the infinitely better team in Antigua who has worked on our hulls in the past. But I digress.
We made sure to play tourists, feeling bad about having been a little lazy while in Grenada: for one reason or the weather, we didn't leave the boat aside for walks on Hog Island or the vicinity of Le Phare Bleu, and your basic errands. On this topic, we started using public transportation while in Grenada. At EC$ 2.50 a pop it's a deal, the wait only moderately lengthy, and the experience of traveling inside a tightly packed
medieval tympanum-on-wheels, sometimes with loud music on the stereo, unparalleled. How do they fit that many people inside those tiny vans remains a mystery!
Our first expedition was to Morne Gommier, west of us, at about 950 ft elevation. It is a hike composed of a trail in the vegetation, a portion of it flanked by private residences protected by viciously barking dogs, and a looong stretch of paved road uphill, very quiet, with rare traffic. The view of the bays from the top is definitely worth the sweat and, as we discovered the second time we did the hike, you can enjoy it just going a few yards down the road from the Belvedere (Point Vue), whose entrance is 5 Euros.
We then rented a car for a couple of days, a little compact worthy of Schwarzenegger's line
"My shoe is bigger than this car!" in "The Expendables 2". A flying drone would have seen this tiny vehicle going up and down twisty mountain roads, la di da, like in a cartoon. Our first stop was the Habitation Clément, a sugar plantation turned rum distillery by Homère Clément, one of the first doctors of color of the island, in 1887. The Habitation sits on forty-three acres of land shared by a beautiful park with bespoke trees (beware of the Figuier Maudit, The Cursed Fig Tree!) that doubles as a canvas for contemporary art installations (huge metallic spheres against a background of banana trees anybody?), the residential area where the founder lived with his family, a distillery and a dedicated museum building.
A lot of history accompanies you as you walk around: the original béké (white Creole descendants of the first colonizers) owners, the gradual acquisitions of nearby plantations, the abolition of slavery in 1848, which deprived the Habitation of its workforce for some time, financial troubles and resurgences, and even the hosting of the meeting of Presidents Bush and Mitterrand to discuss the ending of the Gulf War in one of the Habitation colonial style buildings.
We checked the distillery, with its machinery evoking steampunk aesthetics, and the cellar where their top-of the-line vintage rests in rows and rows of barrels with Monsieur Homère's serene face printed on it. We did a little aromatherapy by inhaling all the different essences that can be detected in rum (Citrus!Liquorice! Bark! Vanilla!...) and took our time sampling a variety of final products. Yes, we also bought a few bottles for the famous Boundless Marine Rum Cellar and we were even given a set of rum glasses with the engraved Habitation monogram, partly as a gift with purchase, partly because the nice lady at the cash register gave me a horrified look when I told her we usually drink rum out of egg cups...
We then visited the Église du Sacré-Cœur de Balata, or "Montmartre of Martinique", as its design is inspired by that of its famous counterpart on France mainland: it was literally a tiny morsel of Paris surrounded by luxuriant greenery, mancheneels and birds of paradise way up there on Morne Rouge! Built by Parisian architects Charles Wulfleff and Aloïs Verrey between 1923 and 1925 in concrete and local andesite, the church has definitely been affected by the harsh tropical climate during the years, as shown by flaking and other humidity damages on the walls. But we could still admire the fine mosaics lining the Roman-Byzantine dome and the delicate stained glass enhancing the interior's clean volumes.
On our way to Fort-de-France, the capital city, we found a little waterfall called "Le Saut de Gendarme", The Policeman's Jump. Faster than Clark Kent turning into Superman inside a phone cabin, we shed our civilian clothes in favor of waterfall attire (swimsuit, flip flops, and towel, part of the "Absolutely Everything Kit" we carry on these road trips), walked the short distance from the car down a long set of well-kept steps and into this Eden-like basin with myriads of birds tweeting away to kindly distract you from how cold the water is (that's my story and I'm sticking to it). Invigorating though!
In Fort-De-France we visited St. Louis Cathedral, a cathedral that's had a tough life. Destroyed by fire - soon after its completion! - and later by cyclones and earthquakes, it was given a metal skeleton by architect Pierre-Henri Picq in the late nineteenth century, one of several structural interventions aimed at making it more resilient to natural calamities and that gained it the nickname "Iron Cathedral". A blend of Neo-Gothic and Romano-Byzantine styles, (a steeple rising 187 feet over the city and walls supported by flying buttresses outside; barrel vaults, semicircular-arches and octagonal domes inside), the cathedral is the focal point of a quiet square, where it can be admired sitting on a stone bench in the small garden facing it, two slender Royal palms planted to look like they flank the building, or while enjoying a meal with a glass of wine right there at the restaurant with outdoor seating. Very French and very Caribbean!
Last the Bibliothèque Schoelcher, another one of architect Picq's creations and where the vast collection of books and musical scores bequeathed by Victor Schœlcher, a French journalist and politician who fought for the abolition of slavery in the colonies, to the Council of Martinique, is stored. Built in the nascent style of metallic architecture of the mid-1800s, this glass and metal cube was first presented in the gardens of the Palais-Royal in Paris in 1889 as part of the Universal Exhibition, then dismantled, transported in separate parts by boat and reassembled in Fort-de-France in 1893! A bit of a schlep if you ask me, but its lively façade alternating brick red and beige is a nice addition to the buildings of Rue de la Liberté, and, inside, its silent spaciousness with two tall floors of neatly organized volumes, a nice reprieve from the outside hustle and bustle.
Once we were all city-touristed and Le Marin'ed up, we set sail to Martinique's east coast, unknown sailing grounds for both of us. Unlike the south coast, "la côte au vent" (together with "brume de sable", the mist made of Sahara sand, one of my favorite French translations of marine words. So poetical!) isn't as popular as the South coast. There's very little in terms of tourist infrastructure and the sailing is more challenging. You are on the windward side of Martinique, exposed to the open ocean and the full force of trade winds, stronger in winter. Coral reefs skirt the approximately thirty miles of coast making the access to the numerous and sheltered bays challenging. Add fishing nets in the water, a buoy system only partially covering the area and you have your little adventure in one neat package! Doyle's cruising guide to the Caribbean doesn't even cover this coast, so we bought a copy of Jerôme Nouel's excellent "Guide Nautique de la Martinique".
We sailed close hauled with a single reefed main and staysail around the south tip of the island, where things were a bit nautical with wind gusting up to 23 knots and odd waves. But sailing north inside the reef after we tacked, things gradually settling down, was very pleasant. A sunny sky combined with it being the right time of day granted us favorable light to help with navigating through the reefs. Our first anchorage was at Îlet a Eau, one of the nine islands inside Havre Le Robert, towards the north of the island, and already revealing the more tranquil essence of this coast. While there we landed the dinghy on nearby Îlet Chancel, treated our feet to a soft sand massage and looked in awe at the clear waters: you could see how much fun those vain mangroves were having looking at their own reflection!
We were hoping to see the near-extinct Lesser Antillean Iguanas (Iguana Delicatissima) that still inhabit the island and that are said to have populated a vast area of the Caribbean eons ago. Since some areas are off limits to avoid disturbing both the iguanas and the sites built for them to deposit their eggs, we sat on a tree log near the shore and waited for the impressive reptiles to show up, as they sometimes do... but it must have been their day off. Oh well. Birds were everywhere though and we could catch fleeting glimpses of turtle doves, white herons and spotted sandpipers among the trees, a true ornithologist paradise! We saw the archeological remains of a sugar dwelling, a pottery and a boiler house, as well as kilns used to make lime for sugar and construction material from the abundant coral on the island, under a canopy of figuier maudits and other towering tree species, gnarly branches and roots reaching everywhere to claim the whole island back from these man-made disruptions.
Off to Le Robert, a town that's one part urban neglect medium-light and one part brand new and shiny cars everywhere... I'm still processing this. A short stomp uphill from the waterfront took us to the main square with the Hôtel de La Ville (City Hall) and a local fresh produce market. "Edenne Sushi", a fabulous Japanese restaurant, is very close by and highly recommended by your favorite sailors, followed by ice-cream in the tranquil park on the waterfront. A walk to the main commercial area of town revealed a McDonald's, a little eatery going by the perplexing name "O'Tacos - The Original French Taco" and a huge shopping mall, where we could provision to our hearts' delight. From the harbor at Le Robert you can actually take the dinghy all the way to Shopping Central via a little river. It's a great shortcut that beats the walk back to the boat carrying shopping bags, but we didn't get to try it this time. I can't say I mind too much, the water looked a bit nasty and sewage-y, especially near the shopping center, so I'm happy we spared our loyal Achilles the soaking experience.
From Le Robert we drove to Le Domaine d'Émeraude in another one of these itsy-bitsy efficient cars. Le Domaine is a gorgeous botanical garden on the way to Mount Pelée, the famous and active Martiniquan volcano, populated by many examples of the island's biodiversity. Along four kilometers of well kept trails, mahoganies, balisiers, tree ferns and flamboyants, breadfruit and even Bixacea Orellianas, with their furry bright and conical red flowers show off big time! An educational pavilion focuses on Martinique's natural history alongside quotes, proverbs and regional poetry that made me regret my ignorance of French Creole, let alone French. Driving to Le Domaine was spectacular in itself, with giant umbrella leaves made shiny by the rain drops, and clusters of the thickest and tallest bamboo plants we've ever seen, at times arching as a tunnel over your head!
On to Baie de Tresor, where, although we didn't find the famous treasure dropped by a caravelle in the seventeenth century and that gave the bay its name, we found eleven days of pure scenic bliss and superlative quiet. The bay is surrounded by Presqu' île La Caravelle, a peninsula that is a beautiful natural park lined by arcs of pristine beaches. With the exception of a group of youngsters participating in what looked like some kind of boot camp jumping in the water amidst much hooting after covering themselves in mud - quite fun to watch - visitors from land were generally very quiet and observing the park's regulations. They might have been quiet from fatigue, as the only way into the beaches was a minimum 2 mile hike from the parking lot.
We scouted the bay thoroughly before we dropped anchor, as the bottom was either too deep or too shallow and there was your complimentary isolated reef patch. A small Canadian power-cat seemed to have taken the best spot (where you could also get backwinded into the mangroves, however) but we eventually found "home", dropping anchor in considerable depth. We could see Îlet du Tresor to our starboard, a little island whose vegetation has been so "combed back" by the blowing of the trades that it looks like...Elvis Presley's hairstyle!
Our favorite hike on Presqu'ile la Caravelle was the one to Pointe Caracoli. We slightly miscalculated the intensity of the hike and wore our Tuff Stuff water shoes, which, albeit sturdy, weren't enough it turns out, ouch! Foot blisters and general aches were compensated by soaring views over the Atlantic at the end of a mixed trail including rocks, arched tunnels of vegetation and cliffs against which the ocean broke con fuoco, its foam exploding through blowholes like nostrils of a marine dragon. A word of warning: the hikes in Martinique are all real and often strenuous hikes, not your nice stroll to digest breakfast...
Swimming, relaxing, having after lunch caffé freddo with a cookie (the Cap'n's stash of Petit Lu, the renowned French chocolate cookies, has lowered Boundless waterline a little, I'm afraid. His French is so good for a gringo that they started giving him these cookies for free! Only partially kidding), enjoying some good grilled meals and the newly purchased rum, pursuing the arts and tending to baby Boundless as needed completed our Baie du Tresor experience. We loved Martinique, and next time we're in the area we want to do the hike in the water to the waterfalls of La Falaise, in the Mount Pelée area and closed this time due to excessive rain, and even more nature... immersion!
Back in Le Marin for Christmas and New Year - an ok display of fireworks - a few more errands, then back to the east coast, one more stop in Le Robert (and one more fabulous Japanese meal), and off to Antigua, which was bursting with activities: crews busily tending large yachts, marine contractors scuttling back and forth from the docks in their vans, beautiful Oysters docked at English Harbour and getting ready for the next leg of their rally, and progress being made on the reconstruction of the Antigua Yacht Club,
hit by lightning during tropical storm Philippe!
Next, it looks like we'll be sailing to St. Thomas USVI, to have our life raft serviced by the only authorized center in the Caribbean (or we can spend ~$1,200 and a horse-choking amount of HazMat paperwork to ship it to the US and back...not) and take care of the boat as we wait. Ugh. Not really looking forward to it. To quote the Cap'n, "In the St. John's National Park (most of the island), you are required to use first come first serve moorings. If all full, there is a single overflow anchorage for the entire island. Outside of the National Park, the VI Dept. of Natural Resources requires an anchoring permit with exact details of when you will anchor, where you will anchor (with Lat & Long down to seconds), etc. Same applies to St. Thomas...There are limits for how many consecutive nights in any particular bay, by bay. There are cumulative limits, by bay and by island and by region...They're over run, everybody I speak with says every marina is full, every bay is full, they need fewer visitors not more... They're struggling to preserve the natural ecosystem...But meanwhile the mangroves are full of derelict boats sinking and releasing fuel...". Also, there's no dock space, and when there is the prices are ludicrous.
After that, we'll make our way down the islands and eventually be in Grenada for a haulout in April. A fire destroyed Driftwood and Palm Tree, two of the major marine contractors in Clarke's Court who have done work for us many times in the past. It happened during the night, so nobody was there or got hurt, luckily, but they suffered huge damages. It sounds like they are getting back on their feet, however. We want Boundless to be in ship shape (we've already had sails and sail bag checked and patched where needed here in Antigua, and a bunch of other things) if we decide to cross to the Pacific later this year, as we've been threatening to do, El Niño effect on local weather and crowded anchorages permitting.
For reasons not quite clear yet, our map on Sailblogs.com has lost all tracks related to the first part of our cruise, including the circumnavigation of Newfoundland, darn! Luckily we had a picture of it saved before this happened so if you'd like to take a look at it let us know and we'll send it to you.
A big hug, a ciao and a Petit Lu + a Petit Sacripant (another brand of French chocolate cookies maybe not as good as the Lu but with a name meaning "Little Scoundrel", I mean, how cute is that?) to y'all and to Pat and Gary on Eärendil and Robin and Fort on Mo'orea, great to catch up with you as always, Jamie and Sun Yun on Enki, nice to walk with you on Hog Island, enjoy your Pacific sailing, Polly and Bryan on Joli, great checking out the Devil's Bridge with you guys, Livia and Karol on Cloud Base, thank you for initiating us to paddle boarding, we love it and we got a couple of those ourselves now, and lastly the fabulous Spotted Eagle Ray who showed up at the end of a snorkeling session off Green Island and made our day (she may be indifferent to the cookies though). Wow, our social life seems to have experienced a spike since Grenada, what's happening to us?
Thank you for reading, partially or all the way, thanks for your comments and feel free to check the Galleries!