Most islands hold an annual Regatta; a few days of boat racing, music, food and fun. On the larger islands they have become world-renowned affairs with big prize money and prestige luring some of the world’s largest and fastest racing boats to cross oceans just to take part. Others are much smaller but none the less important to the local communities and, it was at one of these being held over the long Whitsuntide weekend at Petite Martinique, that we had our first experience of what it is all about.

Not only could we hear, but we could feel the music pulsing in our bones about 2 miles from the anchorage. ‘It’s only for a couple of days’, we told ourselves as we dropped the hook off the beach and away from the many resident fishing boats there. We had a good vantage spot to watch the racing from the boat and with MC’s mega-speaker system, with added extra bass, we felt as though we were in the thick of it. No sooner had we arrived and the skippers were being asked to get their boats into the water. We felt that we didn’t have time to dinghy ashore to see the start up close and sat, expectantly, waiting for the imminent start. Again, the MC asked the skippers to get their boats into the water – it was all about to start. There were three categories of boats; small lasers, double & stern-enders and larger, traditional boats which required a crew of 8. Teams had travelled from Bequia and Carriacou to take part.

It was an hour later when the MC moaned ‘Come one guys, we do this every year, you know the format so why are you not ready with your boats in the water. You’ve got one more minute and then we start without you’. With that there was a lot of commotion and the boats were pushed off the sand and finally into the water awaiting the starters signal. Then the heavens opened and the start was postponed while the rain passed over. Team Bequia Pride chose this moment to announce that they had a problem and needed some gaffers tape urgently. The rain stopped just as the tape was applied and the start actually happened! It was a busy anchorage with all the fishing boats and the local kids swimming in the water, so the competitors had to negotiate a few obstacles to get on their course, and they disappeared into the distance.

Meanwhile, back on the beach, the land activities were in full swing with beer-drinking and arm-wrestling competitions being fought out. How the contestants could concentrate with the vibration of the music all around was amazing.

The boats returned and we headed over to see what was happening and get some food. There must have been 200 local people there and us – the only white visitors! We did feel a little out of place but just got on with it. We went to have a look at the racing boats lined up on the beach. One of the larger ones from Bequia was on its side having the mast hammered it. We looked on and recognised our lobster fisherman from Bequia amongst the competitors. It was good to see him again and find out a little more about the racing as the rules seemed a little different to what Chris remembered back in the UK.

That night there was a live music event but our ears were ringing enough from the afternoon so we headed back to the boat. Fortunately, we couldn’t hear a thing from there as it was held around the headland from the anchorage. Phew!

The next day was more of the same only this time we were there at the start along with a few more visiting spectators. The MC was on full form again and, while the racing was happening, he announced another beer-drinking competition, a Maypole dancing display, an Eat Your Criks (crackers) & Drink Your Coke competition for the kids where they had to do both as quickly as possible and a wet t-shirt competition with 300EC prize money. Each event was accompanied by a song that everyone knew and which was belted out on the bank of speakers ‘Champion, Champion, Champion’ they all chanted.

The bar and BBQ were doing a fine business but we were shocked that a lot of people just dropped their used bottled and empty food containers on the ground where they stood when they could have taken 10 steps and put them in the rubbish bags. We couldn’t understand it at all.

By late afternoon, the races and competitions were over thought the wet t-shirt competition did not take place as only one person had entered (it wasn’t me). The MC was still in full-swing after 48 hours with his non-stop commentaries and music as he announced another party-night that was going on all night and would culminate in J’Ouvert the following morning. We weren’t up for that and so left everyone on the beach to their chants of ‘Champion, Champion’.

Again, we didn’t hear any of the late-night revelries but at 6am the next morning we could hear the voice of the MC again. Through the binoculars we could see a long procession of people doing J’Ouvert, which is a kind of seeing the day in procession where everyone dresses up in costume. I think the previous two days was beginning to take its toll on the locals as most people walking along looked a bit tired and worse for wear, though I did see a half-Spiderman; a guy had painted his torso, head and arms bright red!

The final day was a quieter affair – the MC had almost lost his voice, the BBQ was running low on stock and the bar was almost dry and as we sailed away, the chant of ‘Champion, Champion’ followed us and we had to agree that our first Caribbean Regatta experience had indeed been Champion!