Mayreau

Al had been dreaming of Salt Whistle Bay at Mayreau Island ever since we reached St Vincent. We had been there in our previous visit, so we had to come again. The passage was very pleasant, about four and half hours, except the very last bit, while passing by the Catholic Islands. The current was in our favour, winds strong and steady, while sailing on the highway between Bequia and Mayreau. It was funny to see that many boats were on a collision course with us coming from the other direction, but gave way to us probably because we were on the port-tack.

When we came close to the Catholic Islands, which had visible reefs extending towards the mouth of Salt Whistle Bay, a storm cell reached us, which changed the wind strength and direction. As well, strong currents started to push us onto the reefs. First thing to do was to drop the already double reefed sails. Waves were chirning like in a washing machine in that small area. Then we reached the lee of the island, and entered the bay, which was quite full. A boat-boy helped us get a mooring ball. We got used to getting this service lately; I did not fish for a ball for so long.

This bay is what the posters about Caribbean show; a light blue water, white sand, palm trees. The tip of the island is so narrow that windward side is two minutes away. One can see the raging waves on the other side while swimming in the calm water of the bay. Despite the concentration of the boats, the water looks clean, so we did not hesitate to swim, like all the other boaters. We are amazed about the chartered boats being full of children; it must be because of the Easter holiday. It is so entertaining to watch the children having fun in the water and on the trampolines of the catamarans, and listen to their laughter.

Al learned from the boat-boys that we could top-up our telephone sim-card at the village in Mayreau, which was supposed to be “twelve” (not ten or fifteen) minutes away, so we started. One of the young boys warned Al that the way was hard, but we did not falter. It was a concrete road going straight up to the mountain, so we were a bit out of breath at the top, but after sitting so long in the boat, it was a welcome change. However, when we got to the top, we saw that the village was close to the other bay, the road going sharply down. We passed some bar/restaurants, but could not see any grocery store, where the telephone cards could be sold. I saw a decent looking restaurant, and went in to ask about the place to get the card. It turned out that the owner of the place was selling them. Luck or sixth sense, I always know whom to ask! The young and cute islander girl told Al that the owner was not there at the moment, but she could ask her by phone. When Al gave his telephone number, which he had obtained in BVI, the lady first thought she could not help us, but after learning that it was a Lime (Caribbean supplier) number, she tried again and did it. Al was ecstatic!
That was the highlight of our first day here. We might spend another day, then pass to our destination, Grenada, the country of which starts at Carriacou Island. Al sent an e mail to the Grenada Marina located at St David’s Bay, Grenada to reserve a storage spot during the summer months, and immediately received confirmation. Their prices look reasonable, especially for the work we need done on the boat. First and foremost, we have to get the bottom of Ruyam II painted. We shall see.

In the second afternoon, we watched people coming to the bay to anchor, and got appalled by the mistakes some of them make. All the mooring balls are taken, so the newcomers try to anchor in the small spaces in between, or close to the reefs that line both sides of the bay. We saw one hitting a moored boat without any damage, thanks to the quick thinking wife of the owner who put a fender to its side, seconds before the impact. The same boat was almost hit from the other side, this time by a chartered boat with a hired skipper. The same lady came to the side and said something to the skipper (I presume she asked the skipper to change the position of the anchor or something), but he shrugged his shoulders, and just put a fender to the side. I could not believe that people could be so irresponsible. I really felt sorry for that lady, who became extremely uncomfortable, standing at the side to keep a watch. Moments later a big mono-hull appeared on our starboard side, almost touching us. It was Al’s turn to run for a fender. Both of us shouted that it was not a good place for them to anchor in such close proximity, but they laughed and promised to monitor it. Then I took a picture of their boat to have a reference, capturing their name. I think that scared them, because they left immediately afterwards. I do not want to stay here anymore; we need peace of mind while sleeping.

The Grenadines

Early in the Sunday morning (the 8th) we asked two sailors in a dinghy to release our rope tied to the pier, and we went underway at 6:45 for the short passage to Bequia. It is a three hour trip with the most conservative standards, while Bequia is in visual distance at all times. It was the most pleasing passage so far, enough winds and no seas! We covered it in two and half hours, and motored into the bay which we know from our previous visit. However, the sight was much different; the bay was almost full to the rim with sail boats. There were some interesting looking red markers in random places around the bay, and small sail-boats roaming the outside shores, which made us to believe that a regatta was underway. After we found a good spot near the Tony Gibbons/Princess Margaret Beach, we jumped into the water, first time in a while. New boats kept on coming to the already crowded beach area, and filled every spot around us. Apparently the Easter week-end was Bequia’s festival, which explained the concentration of islanders and visitors in the otherwise very tranquil small town. Islanders whizzed by in their wooden boats, and unloaded hundreds of people to a beach a bit further down, where they partied until the small hours of the night. Unfortunately their idea of a festival is drinking hard liquor without eating much, while listening to a high volume music with only one beat, and getting drunk and out of commission in a stupor around 2:00 pm.

We had to visit the Immigration office or the police station, so took the dinghy to shore, under the Gingerbread House Coffee Shop. We know this place from our previous experience with our friends Deniz/Zeynep/Mehmet and Bahadir/Christina, where we had to ask the proprietor lady who had been eating her cake at the side, to make some coffee for us while we waited. She had shown some reluctance, since we were the only customers in sight, but eventually humored us. In the next morning we had breakfast there, which turned out to be quite good.

This time we could not stop there, after taking a turn in the town, we sat at the Frangipani Hotel, hub-nub of people. We decided to wait for the Customs office at the port to open at 3:00 pm, according to the intelligence from a vendor lady across the Revenue Building, enclosing all the government offices, including the Post Office.

At 3:00 pm sharp three young guys opened the doors, and we became their first customer to get the stamps in our passports. In the five minutes that we waited there, other boaters started to fill the waiting area. We were lucky to be the first in. By the time we went back to Ruyam II we were beat.

Next morning we had made arrangements to get water and diesel from a distributor moving from boat to boat in a barge. I think it was an excellent service, expertly executed; however pricing was negotiable. When Al called the day before to arrange it for 9:00 am, he obtained the unit prices; a gallon of diesel 16.00 EC dollars, water .85 cents. A litre of diesel comes to roughly US$1.50 dollars, which is reasonable, considering the lack of effort on our side.

Anyway, when we got what we wanted, the young guy gave Al a receipt asking for 18.50 EC dollars for diesel, but the original price for the water. Al said “I am sorry, but the lady told me 16 yesterday.” Oh really? It should be 16.50 then. I guess Al did not argue, he was prepared to give him a tip anyway. Al’s new style of haggling involves giving a beer to the guys when he reduces the outrageous amounts asked in the St Vincent area. Sometimes the guys are a bit ashamed of themselves, and cannot look Al in the eye, but just whisper what they want. They must think that we are made of money.

Al got into a fit at the Bequia market. As always, I am constantly seeking fresh vegetables and fruits, but my passion is for tomatoes. I found some and asked Al to pay, while I was looking at other stuff. Then I heard Al arguing with the vendors, who were quite aggressive in their sales techniques. Several of them surround the customer and almost hold him/her hostage, then ask a price that could buy their whole inventory. We had been to many markets in St Martin, Nevis and Dominica, but never seen such aggression in the vendors. Al argued and got really angry, and refused to buy half of the stuff that the guys were pushing into my hand, so I got quickly out of that place. What a pity.

St Vincent, Unfulfilled Fears

We had sailed in this area four years earlier, and saw many of the Grenadine islands, so Both Al and I had not read the guide until we were about to undertake the passage. When I read the part about St Vincent, I was surprised about the description of unexpected wind acceleration around the north shore, which might reach 30-40 knots. The guide warns about the sudden hit of the wind especially while sailing north, in about five miles off the north shore. We thought same should apply coming south, so when we came close to the island after a long and arduous passage, Al started the engines to be prepared, and furled the genoa in, however we saw no sign of any increase in the wind strength.

When we had started from St. Lucia on April 7th, before 7:00 am, the sea was dead calm, with some choppy patches between the Pitons. So we pulled the sails up to take advantage of the wind, and motor-sailed until we were out of the lee of St Lucia. In the wide open, the wind picked up along with high swells, however we could not make much progress due to the strong current against us. We realized that we have a current gauge; the speed-o-meter of the boat usually shows one knot less than the GPS. We usually disregard the speed-o-meter; however when there is a current against, both start to show the same speed, since Speed-o-meter measures the speed of water running against it, while GPS measures the actual change in our position. Eureka!

Although we made real slow progress for about two hours (4.5 knots average motor sailing), our speed increased afterwards, and measurements went back to normal. Good, the current against diminished.

Both the chart and sail guide warn about strong westerly current, so the advice is to point toward east, and let the current take one to the actual destination. We did, but we must have overestimated the current, since Al was complaining about getting farther away from the rhumb-line shown on the extension of his hand (his smart phone); however our angle was more favorable against the swells, so we made small adjustments as we approached St Vincent.

Although the total distance to Wallilabou, St Vincent is about 34 miles, the northern tip of the island was only 24 miles away. The sailing guide warns about the two northern bays as hotbed of crime, and suggests Wallilabou for an overnight stop, although it is almost at the middle. It’s one advantage is the availability of a customs officer to clear the boat in, who works there only for an hour, between 5:00 and 6:00 pm, and cannot stamp the passports. One has to go to the near-by Keartons Bay or we can have passports stamped at Admiralty Bay, Bequia for Immigration.

Along the sailing guide and the chart, we also read the blog of Dylan and Sally, whom we had met in Dominica during our land tour. They had started their journey in Grenada a few weeks ago, coming north, and like us, were writing about their impressions and experiences. Sally really complained about the boat-boys in Wallilabou in her episode of St Vincent, confirming the negative implications of the sailing guide. I was apprehensive of reaching the island and our destination, and could not enjoy the trip, to tell the truth. I think I felt the impact of the swells more, while the moderate winds started to fly us after the current turned in the right direction, and became more worked up getting closer, first expecting vicious winds, then vicious people. How wrong can one be!

After we reached the lee of the island, the seas subsided as well as the wind, so we calmly motored the hour and a half. Wallilabou is a small bay well tucked in, so the only land-mark showing its southern tip is the Bottle and Glass Islands. They are interesting two little islands looking from north; one stump with some trees close to shore, one thin and long extending towards west in the sea. The first sailors who gave names to the islands around here were easily reminded of women or booze it seems.

When we came to the mouth of the bay, quite close to the shore, we saw one man in a row-boat approaching us. There was nobody around, so I learned his name as Eli (Elay/Elai), and asked him to help getting one of the three mooring balls in front of the Anchorage Hotel/Restaurant. He did that and more, since we needed to tie a stern line to the remnants of the jetty close-by. We did not have small change, so I gave him 50.00 EC dollars (about US$18.00 dollars), and he became our major helper, without asking for more.

I was so tired that I told Al to go to the Customs office alone, so he got a ride from Eli, and left. I stayed on Ruyam II to unwind a bit, but as the time passed, I started to get a bit worried. Al came back after a very long time, just before sun-set, and complained about an old geezer in front of him, who had been stalling the clearance process by hitting on the young female officer. Al was at the end of his patience, and after the guy left, congratulated the officer for her’s. Apparently she just laughed and said that she was exposed to all kinds of people, but she had to be professional. My hat to her! I am glad that I was not with Al there; I might have said something to the geezer.

Anyway, Al was tired, so we decided to eat at the Anchorage, which had been one of the back-drops of the film called “The Pirates of The Caribbean”, featuring Johnny Depp. They still had the props and costumes left behind, so it was kind of interesting, but almost deserted, save the people from three boats moored in the front, and a few anchored at the side. There is not much of a village there, all the islanders come from Keartons to work, in their row-boats; and leave at night.

We have been so worked up about crime in this area that we locked all our hatches and doors, and opened the small port-holes for air. In the morning, I saw some black drop marks on the foot of the bed and the port-hole, and alerted Al. He saw same kind of drops on the floor and the facing wall, as if somebody had filled a balloon with black water and threw it at the port-hole. When we looked at the side of the boat, we saw a big black mark oozing towards the water line form the port-hole. When Al tried to wash the side of the boat with de-greaser, it did not work, showing that it was not a spurt of diesel from a passing boat. We wracked our brains but could not solve the mystery of it substance and origin.

The Pitons

Winding down for two days in the marina and visiting Castries, the capital, by bus it was time to see the southern part of St Lucia. We cleared the boat out in Rodney Bay, and told them that we might be staying two nights in the Pitons area. Customs lady gave our clearance, but Immigration refrained from stamping our passports. I don’t know what that means, but we cannot go to Soufriere Bay just for that. It is the Easter holidays anyway, everywhere would be closed.

On Friday, April the 6th, at 7:00 am we left the marina. The channel coming into the marina is rumored to be a bit tricky, so we followed the line shown in the GPS. According to the sailing guide, the usual route going south would pass from the inside of a small rock called Barrel of Beef, close to the southern tip of Rodney Bay. I never think it a good idea, since the rock was quite close to the land and the depth was around sixteen feet, with a fast current going around. I was a bit excited, but not hysterical, so Al did not change the route. Thankfully we passed the rock without an incident; but we kept a look out for the fish traps, and spotting a few, made some slaloms. After a while, I realized that in the excitement, I had not taken our fenders in, and lost one of the ball-shaped ones on the way. We both felt awful; Al blamed himself for not reminding me as the skipper, I blamed myself; but nothing can be done at this point. At least I saw it before we lost all of them.

Coming down the lee of St Lucia was a thrill, because tide was with us, and the accelerated wind came down from the valleys at many points. We got the sails up, and flew down the 18 miles in about three hours.

The sailing guide warns about some criminal activity close to the town of Soufriere, so we chose Malgretout, where Harmony Beach Hotel/Restaurant is advertised to have moorings, while offering many services to the visiting yachts. We had called earlier, and reserved a mooring.

When we spotted the Petit Piton Mountain, we thought that Harmony was located at its south side, so we headed towards the bay between it and the other mountain, Gros Piton, jutting out. While getting closer to shore Al called Harmony and asked where to come. They described their building as having a blue roof, along with some homes at the back. We looked, but could not see anything like that, except a luxurious looking resort at a grand beach at the north corner of the bay, and some other none-descript buildings. Then we saw a boat-boy, and asked if it was Harmony. It turned out to be Jalousie Beach, and the nice guy directed us towards the Soufriere Bay. Apparently Malgretout is another indentation along the big Soufriere Bay, very close to the south end, marked by Petit Piton.

When we came to the right bay, we found Edgar from Harmony waiting to help us to get the mooring ball. The shore looked very rugged and green; the town is not in visual distance, only the numerous yachts stationed along the northern coast of the bay, which is the Bat Cave, could be seen from our vantage point. I was a bit surprised to see all the yachts at that end, and none at the Harmony corner. We were the only ones for some time, then a party boat came along, with a lot of people and loud music. The boat came very close to the beach, anchored and took a line to a tree to secure it. The sea was swelling, and hitting the beach with a vengeance. It seems that going to shore for the night could be risky, since there was no dinghy dock, beaching the dinghy in the dark is out of the question. We asked Harmony, and learned that we would have to take a water taxi to town and a taxi on land back, to get to them. A bit complicated.

Al is a little weary of leaving the boat alone, since I offended a boat-boy by asking how much he would charge to take us to shore. He did not give a price, asking how much I was willing to give. After back and forth several times, I gave up. He then grunted that we had lied to him earlier while coming in, and told him that we were going south. Since we thought we were going to the other bay, we had waved him away when he had approached us earlier. Oh well, do we have to justify our movements to the boat-boys? It seems that we are obligated to use their services, whether we needed them or not.

I was thinking of staying here two nights, and visiting the volcano, Soufriere Mountain, where some hot springs were located. One of them is mentioned in the guide, as having been built by Louis the 16th. I wonder if he used it himself. However, it does not look likely that we will stay here more than one night. Maybe next time.

To tell the truth, I am not much impressed by this bay. First of all there is a constant smell of sewer in the general area, as well as some debris and foaming on the sea. Unfortunately the water was not at all inviting. Even its colour is an unlikely green, which made Al speculate that the raw sewers of the town is coming to the bay, but turning around and around, without going anywhere because of the strong currents forcing them back in. We followed the foams going in circles for hours and that was exactly what seemed to happen. I hope not, but we could not swim there.

Theory proven; we threw two aluminum cans and some fruit peels at night, and watched them go around in circles close to the boat. I was afraid that we would find them in the morning, but they must have sunk after a while.

St Lucia was a disappointment. We are off to St Vincent and the Grenadines tomorrow.

St Lucia

As usual we checked the charts and the guide and the multiple GPS devices to find any hazards on the way. Found no hazards, but an advice in one, for motoring around the island towards St Anne at the south east corner of Martinique; and then turning south to have the wind advantage. We thought to give it a try, so we made a way point a little south of the Diamond Point (Pointe Diamante), somewhere between the lines given in the chart for starting from the west of the island, or St Anne.

There was only one catamaran going the same direction in front of us at that early hour. While we motor-sailed to the first way point, the accelerated winds around the island faced us; but no matter, our friend the trade winds were to come in about an hour. Since we had our sail up while anchored, we unfurled the genoa, and got underway towards St Lucia, which was visible in the mist.

Al saw the other catamaran, which had headed towards St Anne stopping, while both its sails were up. Al turned on the VHF, to see if they needed any help. He even thought of turning to get close to them ask, but I did not see the point. What could we do? If they needed help they would ask the coast-guard. As well, I thought that keeping the boat in one place while the sails were up required special skills, like heave-to, and would be on purpose. Who knows?

We kept on going, but our progress was slow, we could not do more than 4.5 knots on average, even motor-sailing. Around 9:00 am we cut the engines, and sailed for an hour, with an average 4 knot speed, even though the wind was around 10-13 knots. We thought there must be a strong current/tide against us, which did not let up until we came close to Rodney Bay, St Lucia. However, it was a very easy ride, since the waves were mild. Slowly but surely, we made it towards the twin peaks mentioned in the sailing guide.

Al was looking at his smart-phone (the main GPS that he trusts), and trying to keep the rumb-line by constantly pointing up, since the wind/current/tide were pushing us west. When I spotted the peak of the Pigeon Island, which was different than the others, Al could not believe me, since the red-roofed buildings were seen to its east. Pigeon Island was supposed to be at the northern tip of the Rodney Bay, so seemed unlikely from our vantage point.

When we got to Pigeon Island, which looked like a sitting lion to me, the entrance to the bay opened up. Al had read on the Imray chart that Sandals Resort which was built at the cause-way to Pigeon Island had blue roof-tops, so I was looking for it to no avail. There were red roofs everywhere, including the cause-way, bluish gray ones at the middle of the bay. When we got close enough, I saw that Sandals actually had red roofs (they must have changed lately). OK, we were in the right place!

There were many boats anchored close to the mile-long sandy beach, so we picked a spot and I let the anchor go; however our yellow ball did not come up to the surface. I was worried that it would become a hazard for the passing traffic (quite a lot of it, with para-sailing speed-boats, fruit vendors, sail-boats, fishermen, you name it). Al dived to check the anchor and saw that it was set in a kind of well in the sand, which was much deeper than its vicinity, which was the reason for the anchor ball not showing.

After a short break, we got into the dinghy and went to the Rodney Marina to clear in. According to the guide, only the skipper of the incoming boats was allowed to touch land for that purpose, so I waited in the dinghy while Al dealt with it. It was quite hot at 2:00 pm, and the dinghy dock did not provide any shade, but I put my head to the dock, and closed my eyes for a while.

When he came back, we checked the marina office for their prices, and found them reasonable. We will be staying here for a few nights. It is a newly renovated facility it seems, very clean and modern, and well used, but having some spots for transients (like us). It seems that the slips with electricity were harder to find, since their first question was related to that. When we made it known that we did not need any, it was easy to get an end slip facing another catamaran. I asked the guy if they could help us to tie, and he said no problem, just call on VHF.

When we approached the marina, I had a conversation with the marina office, mentioning the slip number that we were coming; and the attendant said proceed. We proceeded, but could not see anyone on the docks, not even other boat owners, who could help out. It was up to me to jump down to the low dock, and tie the back line. The dock was so low that most of our fenders were dangling high up, especially the balls. I had to reach up to lengthen the front ones, while pushing the boat away from the dock. It was a good thing that the water was dead calm, even though there was some wind helping me.

I think I am shaking the fear of coming along and tying on to the docks without any outside help. When you have to do it, you have to do it. As soon as the first line was tied up, Al came down to do the rest, while I brought down extras for tying the spring lines. After the whole ordeal was over at 5:00 pm, we realized how tired we became. We were ready to check out the multiple restaurants/bars lining the marina office!

We slept like babies on our first night in the marina. It feels good to be able to touch ground without using the dinghy once in a while. Especially at night, getting in and out of the dinghy, walking precariously on the poorly made dinghy docks, unlocking the combination pad-lock, tying/untying the “painter” (dinghy line for people who didn’t know, like me), and finding Ruyam II in the dark sometimes get to me.

The Nightmare of Fort De France

Clearance was easy, but getting to Fort De France was a nightmare! The guide mentions a ferry running from Anse a L’Ane to Fort De France every half hour, which turned out to be once every hour; and buses going around the island connecting the small communities in the bays along the coast. Since we were anchored at Grand Anse D’Arlet, we decided to use the bus and the ferry on our last day in Martinique. We asked somebody who spoke English, and learned that the bus was passing through the main road, starting around 7:30 am, schedule unknown. We got ready early in the morning, and got to the road around 8:15. Al saw two elderly islander ladies, and asked if the bus would come soon, and how much it would cost. She said in less than twenty minutes, and 1.20 Euroes. There was nowhere to sit to wait, but the road side was under the shade of tall trees. So we waited, walked up and down beside the road, looked at the beach etc. After about half an hour, we saw three buses going in the other direction, but nothing coming for us. At last a bus came, but when we asked he shook his head, and said that the bus we were waiting for was to come at 9:40 am. It was hard to believe, and I had gotten tired of standing up in one place, so we started to walk on the road until we saw a covered bus shelter with a bench, which seemed like a better place to wait than the side of the road. I sat down, and Al walked about, then we saw a couple who hauled their luggage close to the stop, and sat on the side walk. We thought that they must be going to the airport, which should be close to the city, so Al went and asked. They turned out to be very nice people who were going to Fort De France to catch a large ferry to Dominica. I suggested hiring a taxi and sharing the fare, but the guy laughed and exclaimed that finding a taxi around here was harder than catching the bus, because the distance was not long enough to make it worthwhile for the driver’s effort.

Anyway after waiting longer than an hour, the bus finally came, and took us to the small town across the bay from Fort De France. It made sense why they had the ferry at this bay, the distance being the shortest. Before we came off the bus, Al asked about the last bus to return to our town, and he said midnight. We definitely would have a bus to come back.

We saw a group of people sitting on a long bench at the dock, obviously waiting for the ferry. When we asked about the expected arrival time, the nice islander lady shrugged her shoulders, and said “whenever it would come”. Not a good sign, but at least many people were still waiting. After a few minutes we saw the ferry approaching from the other side. That was quick; we were just in time to catch it. Embarking/disembarking took a few minutes, and we reached the big city in about half an hour. We had learned earlier that the ferry ride was 6.00 Euros per person, so Al gave exact change to the collector, but he asked for one more Euro for both of us, and gave two tickets. I saw some people presenting tickets, some paying, and asked Al to get return tickets, but communication is a problem. They do not understand even if you try your hand in French, so even Al got discouraged. We paid and got the tickets without any explanation, but Al discarded them as soon as we were out the boat.

The clearance is still done at the Sea Services Chandlery. All one has to do is to fill the form on the computer, and got it printed. Since the same form is used in all points of entry to French soil, we had two copies of it from St Martin and Guadeloupe. I gave one to Al to use as a guide (the questions were in French), and he finished filling it in five minutes. The only hardship was finding our next stop in the drop down menu of countries, presented in no logical order; however, Al found it after trying many spellings of Saint and Lucia. We did some shopping at the chandlery, and were out of there before 11:30 am.

We walked up and down the street running along the docks, and turned inside on a promenade among the shops, found a place to eat with free WiFi on the second floor of a building, where we also saw John and Anita, whom we had met at Dominica. It was quite pleasant. The owner of the restaurant, who was a warm and friendly man, turned out to be from Palestine, so Al had a nice chat with him as well. We did some grocery shopping at the Carrefour at the kitty-corner, and went to the docks to wait for the ferry.

There were three docks where people were waiting for ferries. Of course there were no markings about the destinations of the multiple sized and shaped boats that were coming there. After asking, we found the dock for ours, and started looking at the small town across the bay for the boat that was supposed to come to take us. We had learned that our boat would come at the half past each hour, so we kept a look out when the time approached. We did not see any sign of the boat until it was very close to the dock.

Anyway, it did come almost on time, and took us to the small town across. This time the ferry attendant asked for Euros, apparently the tickets we discarded were actually for our return. Since we had no proof we didn’t even bother mentioning it. The ferry ride was easy, but the last leg of the eight/ten miles after it was kind of dubious, since we had no idea about the schedule of the bus. We found the bus stop, and started waiting, along with an islander girl, who was at the ferry with us.

We waited, and waited, and waited some more. It was hot, and the stop had a shelter but nothing to sit on. I was tired from the whole trip and had lost all hope of going back home. The islander girl made some calls on her cellular, and after a while got into a car that came for her. Standing up in one place is almost impossible for me, so I walked up and down, and then I saw a fair sized grocery store around the corner, where I thought a taxi-stand might be found. There was a rent-a-car office, but no taxi in the parking lot. On my way back, I saw a local gentleman using the ATM machine at the corner, and I asked him if I could call a taxi. He shook his head, and remarked that taxis did not exist there. When he leaned that I was headed to Grand Anse D’Arlet, he said that he would take me. Al was still at the bus stop, so I waved to him to urge him to come quickly. Al came but started gesturing his questions. I just said “taxi”. Then he turned to the gentleman, and asked “combien?” The man was incensed, and exclaimed that he was no taxi. I pretended that I had not understood as well, and thanked him profusely. I guess he was going that way himself. He was a man of few words, he only asked why we were going there, and I said “to our boat” with my excellent (!) French. “Ah!” That was the extent of our conversation, and he let us out at the base of the docks. I was really relieved, and congratulated myself for my instinct for picking out the only person who could help us. Al was not impressed; he still had hope for the bus to come eventually. Yes, but it would be dark by that time. As it was we returned to Ruyam II around 4:00 pm. What a total waste of a day for me.

Martinique

On Saturday, March 30th, we got ready early in the morning, and started towards Martinique at 7:00 am. The bay of Roseau was quite calm, so we pointed towards the Seven Feet Rock, which was marked on the GPS devices at an approximate position quite far in the water from Scott’s Head, the peninsula at the south-west corner of Dominica. Since the charts and our sailing guide do not mention anything about this rock, we had set a route and way points according to the chart. When Al was marking the way points on the GPS, we saw that the one near Scott’s head was smack on the rock. We could not understand how the Imray chart would not take the rock into consideration, but the chickens that we are, we changed our route to go around that general area, hence lengthened our trip for at least half an hour. Better late than sorry!

When we approached the south corner of the island, the wind started to blow harder, as a result of island effect we thought, with waves to match. There were several mono-hulls ahead of us and behind. Most of them passed close to Scott’s Head, and got underway on a direct route towards Martinique, which was barely visible in the mist.

When we reached the open seas, wind increased steadily to 22 knots, gusting to 29 at times. We did motor sailing for a while, but Al had reefed the sails from the beginning, since he had seen in the forecast that expected winds were to be 15 to 20 knots. We reefed the genoa as well, so that our speed was less than 5 miles an hour, since the wind was on the nose, due to our earlier diversion to the west. This passage was the most challenging so far, except going to Culebra, SVI. After an hour into the passage, I thought of turning back, but of course it was out of the question. The waves were quite high, which were jerking us unpredictably. I almost fell down while dealing with furling in the genoa, after Al shifted direction. I don’t like the winch area at the starboard side, since there is no place to hold on, except the coiled lines hanging at the side. Especially when sailing 6-7 knots, turning the winch becomes stressful without a place to steady oneself and hold on .

Apparently several storm cells were around us. Al changed route to go behind one, and the other approaching ones did not catch up on us, so we reached St Pierre, Martinique around 2:00 pm. I was dead tired, but we had to get to shore to clear in.

Saturday afternoon, St Pierre was a ghost town! Nobody on the streets, all the shops, including hair dressers, most restaurants and convenience stores, were closed. We found one café open, and asked the proprietor all our questions, in half English half French, and learned that Customs was no longer handled by L’Escapades as mentioned in the guide, but it would be closed anyway until Monday. I thought we would be gone by then.

Al looked around for a free WiFi place, to send our messages to family and friends, but no luck. He bought air time for his Orange cellular service provider, and sent text messages, to give our new location. We returned to Ruyam II, to relax a bit. St Pierre is not a welcoming town; some of its buildings looked burned. Apparently, a major volcano eruption burned to death its thirty thousand inhabitants in the year 1902, and some of the buildings or parts thereof are still standing, but give a stark and rundown appearance to the town. The beaches are also black, due to the volcanic ash.

We spent the night in its bay, which is quite sheltered, and early in the morning resumed the journey towards Grand Anse D’Arlet. This is one of the small bays at the south west corner of the island, which is a good staging place for the passage to St Lucia.

On the way, we passed the major town called Fort De France, which is known as the biggest in the Caribbean. The bay for the city is so big that the body of water looks like an enclosed sea. The land behind the bay is quite low, while there are high mountains to the north and south, which creates havoc in the winds. Passing the bay, which took two hours, was as bumpy as the open seas. However, it seems that I am getting used to the rough rides, and do not get as scared any more.
Since we started early in the morning, we reached the Grand Anse D’Arlet bay around 10:00 am, which looked crowded from a distance. The guide recommends the south-eastern part as a better anchorage, but it was full of sail boats and some speed boats. So we anchored on the northern part, which was OK as well, and not as packed.

We bought in Roseau, Dominica a small yellow ball to be tied to the anchor, which marks the location of the anchor. The last two times I have been throwing the ball with the anchor, which works like a charm. No more other boats anchoring on top of our anchor, which gives me a heart attack every time we weigh the anchor.
It appears that this bay is the playing ground of the city-dwellers; many day-sailers, power boats and jet skies came for the day and left before sun-set. In the afternoon the sail boats started to come by the dozens, and settled on all the available spots, Al counted over eighty masts. I guess we will have a lot of company on the way to St Lucia.

Al wants to spend one more night here, so that we can take the ferry from Anse A L’Ane, a close-by bay, where we can reach by bus. We will visit the “Paris of the Caribbean” tomorrow, and clear in and out at the same time, if we will be able to find the Customs office there. According to the guide, it is easy at Fort De France, we shall see!