The other day we received a call from Simone and Oguz, who live and work partly in Geneve, Switzerland and Ansy, France. Simone advised having seen a short news bulletin on their local tv about some incident that killed two and injured about six people in St Anne, Martinique. They immediately thought of us, since they took it as an explosion of some sort and wanted to know if we had been affected. Of course we had no idea about the life on land, but we had one source in Le Marin, Levent of Elite Kebab, who is quite in touch with the locals, due to his occupation and personality.
We in turn called Levent. He and his wife Guylain had spent the afternoon and early evening of the day before (being Sunday) with us on the boat. He declared that the incident occured about three hours after they had left, at a restaurant very close to Club Med, locatd at Buccaneer Beach. It was a group of people killing each other during a private party, one of whom had just got out of prison. It seemed to me that a group of drug dealers or other criminal elements carrying guns, dealing with some dispute.
We are anchored just across the Bucanneer Beach, and our favorite restaurant La Ronde Des Yoles is five minutes away from the crime scene. It gave us a chill to learn that a seemingly serene and tame tourist destination could be rife with those people.
When we visited Fort De France in November this year, we visited all the places that we had seen the first time around in the year 2012. We went to the chandlery, to the promenade of shops and restaurants, and ate at the kebab place owned by Mohammed, from Lebanon. We were amazed that the everywhere showed some signs of deterioration and poverty. We were the only customers at the kebab place for instance, which had been thriving before. Al was intrigued and stuck a conversation with Mohammed, while I was sitting at the balcony, overlooking the street corner. There was an older islander, standing at the corner and appearing to sell something in his hand to the people walking past him. While I observed him for about an hour, he had not been successful in attracting any attention from the pedestrians, but he was sorrounded by some young bad guys, who can be picked out anywhere in the world, trousers sweeping the ground, gold around their necks and some ears, cap to the side and a mean gleam in their eyes. From my vantage point, the flash exchanges of small packages and money were completely visible, not that they were trying to hide anything. Some youngsters were rolling their hash cigarettes in their palms immediately after acquiring them, and lighting up. Even while the two police patrolmen were walking around them! I also saw some kind of negotiation going around a couple of pretty and young girls. Drugs, prostitution, you name it.
Al learned from Mohammed that Fort De France started to attract fewer sailors lately, and his business declined so much that he was thinking of getting out of there. With all those neighbours, it was little wonder that his customers were not venturing to that area any more.
We observe but do we learn? While we were going around with Oguz and Simone on their last day, before taking them to the airport, Al suggested taking a turn in Fort De France, and almost got mugged at the beginning of the promenade, which was completely taken over by the bad guys, since it was Sunday, all businesses being closed.
We had never encountered any other dangerous situations in St Anne or Le Marin, but we saw some idle youth in small groups spending the evening away, apparently doing nothing. As we do not go fon land often at night, we do not feel threatened. However, we try to take all the precautions necessary to save our boat and dinghy, like locking everything and taking the dinghy key along etc. The rest would be a matter of insurance, heaven forbid.
We had also heard about some minor incidents at the dinghy dock of Leader Price, one of the major grocery chains in Le Marin. For example, we heard about gasoline or some groceries left in one of the dinghies being stolen. I suspect that those would be perpetrated by fellow sailors, since that dock is only used by sailors shopping in the town, and it is quite a secluded place, surrounded by mangroves, and only accessible by a short footpath from the grocery parking lot. Doesn't it make sense to reach over to another dinghy when in need of gasoline? Some of the dinghies around here have very small engines and tiny tanks, and it is difficult to reach a gas station on foot from there.
We do not leave groceries unattended any more (in Grenada we sometimes would leave our purchases of local produce in the dinghy, while shopping from the grocery stores. Not a single tomato went missing!) Grenada we miss you.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Thursday, December 26, 2013
MEETING OTHER TURKS IN ST ANNE AND MARIN
Two days after Oguz and Simone left, I thought I heard Al speaking Turkish with somebody, while I was busy in my cabin. Then I had a glimpse of a white head, and thought that the Swiss guy we had met earlier came to visit after all. Not really, this was a tall and lean stranger (Selcuk), actually in deep conversation with Al in Turkish. He said that he had been anchored in the bay for almost a month, and recently saw a mono-hull, anchored very close to us, flying a Turkish flag. This morning he went over to say hello, but was not received too warmly. However he saw our Turkish flag from that boat. Al raises the Turkish flag whenever we have visitors and presently did not have to time to take it down. After making sure that the flag was Turkish, Selcuk came directly to us. Of course we were delighted to meet him, invited him on board and spent some time together.
He has a 58 ft Catana called Orient Express, which he is sailing single-handedly at the moment, his wife and young baby are in Maine, USA. He is getting ready to join them after Christmas. He is a most interesting person with an incredible life story.
Selcuk was the younger son of the owner of the Bebek Hotel in Bebek, Istanbul. Bebek is where my mother was born, at my great grand parents' home, which was turned into an apartment by my grand father, where my mother's extended family lived all their lives. I sold my share of the property ten odd years ago, so we had a connection there almost all my life. Bebek Hotel was built before I was born, so it had always been a landmark for us, one of the most prestigious hotels on the Bosphorus.
Selcuk related that his parents died when he was 16 years old (in 1968), and he and his brother, who was five years his senior, were left alone to deal with the hotel for some time. It appears that he had enough of it after he married somebody and had a baby, and decided to immigrate to the US in 1984. He said he sold some properties, rented the hotel out, and landed in Florida, with US $100,000.- in his pocket, which he used to buy a mono-hull, and learned how to sail it from the vendor. He said he had always been interested in sailing, thanks to Sadun Boro, the Turkish sailor, who sailed solo around the world in our youth.
Selcuk said that he went up the US east coast by boat, and decided to buy a property in Maine, but never stopped sailing. He said since then, he sailed around the world twice, demolished two boats until he got his present Catana built to his specifications about nine years ago.
Selcuk also told us about another Turk, Levent, living in Le Marin with his wife Guylaine, who is from Martinique. They own and operate Elite Kebab together, which is located across the street from the new marina. Selcuk offered to take us to Le Marin in his mega dinghy to have lunch there.
It was an interesting experience. It took him less than ten minutes to fly us there with his 60 hsp engine (as opposed to our 9.8). Levent is making a mean chicken donair, which he serves in sandwich or wrap, and making a lot of school children happy. I was really impressed with the taste of the chicken, which I ate with a salad. Apparently Levent uses a marinade before pressing the chicken pieces together around the donair skewer himself, rather than buying frozen from a supplier. But it is a lot of hard work from beginning to end. When I asked him if he knew that trade from before, he laughed, that in Turkey he only knew how to eat donair, but never dreamed of making it himself. He said that he had met Guylaine in London, England fifteen years previously, at a language school, and they ended up in St Anne a few years ago. Apparently he has been labouring at this business for the last three years, but it looks pretty good.
Selcuk became a good friend of Levent , and is planning to take him and Guylaine on Sunday to a sailing trip down to St Vincent an the Grenadines. Selcuk asked us to join him, but no thanks, I don't think we can keep up with him. He has little care about the weather or sea conditions to start sailing. His monstrous catamaran can handle anything it seems, and he is fearless. We are everything but. For the time being, I can hardly listen to the howling Christmas winds every night and day, let alone bring my nose outside of the bay.
They are due to come back on the 31st of December, and I invited them to celebrate the New Year's Eve together. I am to cook, and we are to gather at his boat (more space and ice making capability) for that night. We are going to anchor side by side at Le Marin, since Selcuk is leaving for Maine the next day. He needs a ride to shore to catch his plane.
There was only one year in most of our lives, that we celebrated new year alone (our seed family). It was our first year in Canada (1981). We had felt extremely sad. I had left my mother alone in Turkey, we knew nobody in Canada, except Al's professor at the University of Alberta. Al had done some work at somebody else's lab, and earned an extra $1,000.- that month, so I cooked an elaborate meal, but that was no consolation.
Now I have to find something new to wear. Last two years, our very good freinds Deniz and Zeynep had been keeping us company for the new year, and Zeynep was bringing me nice blouses to wear that night. It is a pity that they did not come this year, but I am hoping that we might lure them here a little later in the season.
He has a 58 ft Catana called Orient Express, which he is sailing single-handedly at the moment, his wife and young baby are in Maine, USA. He is getting ready to join them after Christmas. He is a most interesting person with an incredible life story.
Selcuk was the younger son of the owner of the Bebek Hotel in Bebek, Istanbul. Bebek is where my mother was born, at my great grand parents' home, which was turned into an apartment by my grand father, where my mother's extended family lived all their lives. I sold my share of the property ten odd years ago, so we had a connection there almost all my life. Bebek Hotel was built before I was born, so it had always been a landmark for us, one of the most prestigious hotels on the Bosphorus.
Selcuk related that his parents died when he was 16 years old (in 1968), and he and his brother, who was five years his senior, were left alone to deal with the hotel for some time. It appears that he had enough of it after he married somebody and had a baby, and decided to immigrate to the US in 1984. He said he sold some properties, rented the hotel out, and landed in Florida, with US $100,000.- in his pocket, which he used to buy a mono-hull, and learned how to sail it from the vendor. He said he had always been interested in sailing, thanks to Sadun Boro, the Turkish sailor, who sailed solo around the world in our youth.
Selcuk said that he went up the US east coast by boat, and decided to buy a property in Maine, but never stopped sailing. He said since then, he sailed around the world twice, demolished two boats until he got his present Catana built to his specifications about nine years ago.
Selcuk also told us about another Turk, Levent, living in Le Marin with his wife Guylaine, who is from Martinique. They own and operate Elite Kebab together, which is located across the street from the new marina. Selcuk offered to take us to Le Marin in his mega dinghy to have lunch there.
It was an interesting experience. It took him less than ten minutes to fly us there with his 60 hsp engine (as opposed to our 9.8). Levent is making a mean chicken donair, which he serves in sandwich or wrap, and making a lot of school children happy. I was really impressed with the taste of the chicken, which I ate with a salad. Apparently Levent uses a marinade before pressing the chicken pieces together around the donair skewer himself, rather than buying frozen from a supplier. But it is a lot of hard work from beginning to end. When I asked him if he knew that trade from before, he laughed, that in Turkey he only knew how to eat donair, but never dreamed of making it himself. He said that he had met Guylaine in London, England fifteen years previously, at a language school, and they ended up in St Anne a few years ago. Apparently he has been labouring at this business for the last three years, but it looks pretty good.
Selcuk became a good friend of Levent , and is planning to take him and Guylaine on Sunday to a sailing trip down to St Vincent an the Grenadines. Selcuk asked us to join him, but no thanks, I don't think we can keep up with him. He has little care about the weather or sea conditions to start sailing. His monstrous catamaran can handle anything it seems, and he is fearless. We are everything but. For the time being, I can hardly listen to the howling Christmas winds every night and day, let alone bring my nose outside of the bay.
They are due to come back on the 31st of December, and I invited them to celebrate the New Year's Eve together. I am to cook, and we are to gather at his boat (more space and ice making capability) for that night. We are going to anchor side by side at Le Marin, since Selcuk is leaving for Maine the next day. He needs a ride to shore to catch his plane.
There was only one year in most of our lives, that we celebrated new year alone (our seed family). It was our first year in Canada (1981). We had felt extremely sad. I had left my mother alone in Turkey, we knew nobody in Canada, except Al's professor at the University of Alberta. Al had done some work at somebody else's lab, and earned an extra $1,000.- that month, so I cooked an elaborate meal, but that was no consolation.
Now I have to find something new to wear. Last two years, our very good freinds Deniz and Zeynep had been keeping us company for the new year, and Zeynep was bringing me nice blouses to wear that night. It is a pity that they did not come this year, but I am hoping that we might lure them here a little later in the season.
BACK AT ST ANNE
After we left the airport we drove back on the highway (Al memorized every turn by now) and found the last parking spot close to the Jumbocar branch office at St Anne. We realized that we were tired, and happy to find our dinghy at the dock.
As we were busy trying to untie the painter etc, a young man asked if he could hitch a ride with us, indicating that he was at a boat close to the fuel dock. Of course we would never say no. We started talking to him. He said that he had been living in Le Marin on his boat, for a number of years, and he was earning a living as a skipper for hire. Now that his wife and children had moved away, he was trying to sell his 2000 model Fontaine Peugot catamaran for 190, 000 Euros and join his wife. We felt encouraged that Martinique prices are higher than US, when it is time to sell the boat (I hope many many years later).
He showed us his boat, and I recognized the pennant of the mooring ball. It was the mooring ball we took by mitake on our first day in le marin. I exclaimed that we were from the boat that had used his ball to moor, about a month ago. He got surprised, and apologized for inconveniencing us, which we shrugged off. He said that he had just returned from the Tobaggo Cays, Grenadines that evening. Of course we understood; we did not know that it was a private mooring.
Anyway, we felt good that we paid our debt by doing him a favor. Apparently he always left his dinghy secured at his boat's davids, whenever he went away, probably not to show that the boat is unattended. He said that he had been waiting for half an hour at the dock, until we showed up that evening. Unfortunately there are no water taxis in Martinique, unlike Grenada, Dominica or even St Vincent. Here one can only rely on fellow sailors to get any kind of help.
As we were busy trying to untie the painter etc, a young man asked if he could hitch a ride with us, indicating that he was at a boat close to the fuel dock. Of course we would never say no. We started talking to him. He said that he had been living in Le Marin on his boat, for a number of years, and he was earning a living as a skipper for hire. Now that his wife and children had moved away, he was trying to sell his 2000 model Fontaine Peugot catamaran for 190, 000 Euros and join his wife. We felt encouraged that Martinique prices are higher than US, when it is time to sell the boat (I hope many many years later).
He showed us his boat, and I recognized the pennant of the mooring ball. It was the mooring ball we took by mitake on our first day in le marin. I exclaimed that we were from the boat that had used his ball to moor, about a month ago. He got surprised, and apologized for inconveniencing us, which we shrugged off. He said that he had just returned from the Tobaggo Cays, Grenadines that evening. Of course we understood; we did not know that it was a private mooring.
Anyway, we felt good that we paid our debt by doing him a favor. Apparently he always left his dinghy secured at his boat's davids, whenever he went away, probably not to show that the boat is unattended. He said that he had been waiting for half an hour at the dock, until we showed up that evening. Unfortunately there are no water taxis in Martinique, unlike Grenada, Dominica or even St Vincent. Here one can only rely on fellow sailors to get any kind of help.
TROIS ILETS AND GRANDE ANSE D'ARLET
A couple of days earlier, Al went on the web and reserved a car from Jumbocar, in order to take our guests to the airport. While he was making a selection, he accidentally chose a two door Renaut (instead of our four door) and ended up paying 27.- Euros for the day, exactly half price of getting it from the office.
Anyway, Christian from Jumbocar had told Oguz the last time that Les Trois-Ilets was the St Tropez of Martinique, a major tourist area, and should not be missed. We had all day on Sunday, Christian was to bring the car to Marin, and was to allow us to leave the car at their branch office there the next day. I am really impresses by the service we got from Christian. I guess we became a major client after renting three times in ten days.
At 10:45 am Al and Oguz took the luggage to the dinghy dock at the main port, and took the car from Christian. Al came back for Simone and I, while Oguz waited at the car. A little after 11:00, we were all in the car, heading towards Les Trois-Ilets. It is located at the south coast of the bay of FDF, very picturesque, but at this time of the year, almost deserted. We got there, and searched a nice restaurant with a view. A few people recommended Creole Village, but it was closed on Sundays. Go figure. We found another one, which was not bad, in the nick of time before it started pouring down in buckets.
We had lots of time to kill, and St Tropez did not prove to be that interesting, or the beach very attractive, so we thought of going to FDF. We asked about the ferry, which starts from Anse a l'Ane and Anse Mitan, right across the bay, but no go, they do not work on Sundays.
Back to the car, and drive to FDF. It was a dead city! No traffic on the streets, the promenade of shops was deserted, but some scary looking guys. One of them quite agressively asked for money, and we went back to the car, and got the hell out of there. We checked out a beach at Schoelcher, immediate north of FDF, facing west. Nothing interesting, everything closed for winter (!) Hard to believe.
Al decided to take us to Grand Anse d'Arlet by car this time. We went all the way back to Les Trois-Ilets and took to the road that passes over the mountain to get to the west coast. It was after 4:00 pm, the road narrow and winding up and down. When we got to the bay, the view was spectacular, but watching the sunset at 5:30 pm would mean getting back on the dangerous road in the dark. Oguz agreed with me that we should not spend too much time there, but stop for a drink close to the main road to Lamentin, where the airport is located.
We passed the mountain road in daylight, and stopped at Anse a l'Ane at a beach cafe. Nothing interesting, except a bunch of drunk guys making loud noises imitating music. As soon as the sun set, it started to get chilly (are we spoiled or what?).
By the time we got to the airport it was around 7:00 pm. We spent some time together, but they were busy changing into their winter clothes and getting their boarding passes. There was a big crowd in front of them, so they insisted that we should be on our way. We felt sad to leave them there. I hope they would come back!
Anyway, Christian from Jumbocar had told Oguz the last time that Les Trois-Ilets was the St Tropez of Martinique, a major tourist area, and should not be missed. We had all day on Sunday, Christian was to bring the car to Marin, and was to allow us to leave the car at their branch office there the next day. I am really impresses by the service we got from Christian. I guess we became a major client after renting three times in ten days.
At 10:45 am Al and Oguz took the luggage to the dinghy dock at the main port, and took the car from Christian. Al came back for Simone and I, while Oguz waited at the car. A little after 11:00, we were all in the car, heading towards Les Trois-Ilets. It is located at the south coast of the bay of FDF, very picturesque, but at this time of the year, almost deserted. We got there, and searched a nice restaurant with a view. A few people recommended Creole Village, but it was closed on Sundays. Go figure. We found another one, which was not bad, in the nick of time before it started pouring down in buckets.
We had lots of time to kill, and St Tropez did not prove to be that interesting, or the beach very attractive, so we thought of going to FDF. We asked about the ferry, which starts from Anse a l'Ane and Anse Mitan, right across the bay, but no go, they do not work on Sundays.
Back to the car, and drive to FDF. It was a dead city! No traffic on the streets, the promenade of shops was deserted, but some scary looking guys. One of them quite agressively asked for money, and we went back to the car, and got the hell out of there. We checked out a beach at Schoelcher, immediate north of FDF, facing west. Nothing interesting, everything closed for winter (!) Hard to believe.
Al decided to take us to Grand Anse d'Arlet by car this time. We went all the way back to Les Trois-Ilets and took to the road that passes over the mountain to get to the west coast. It was after 4:00 pm, the road narrow and winding up and down. When we got to the bay, the view was spectacular, but watching the sunset at 5:30 pm would mean getting back on the dangerous road in the dark. Oguz agreed with me that we should not spend too much time there, but stop for a drink close to the main road to Lamentin, where the airport is located.
We passed the mountain road in daylight, and stopped at Anse a l'Ane at a beach cafe. Nothing interesting, except a bunch of drunk guys making loud noises imitating music. As soon as the sun set, it started to get chilly (are we spoiled or what?).
By the time we got to the airport it was around 7:00 pm. We spent some time together, but they were busy changing into their winter clothes and getting their boarding passes. There was a big crowd in front of them, so they insisted that we should be on our way. We felt sad to leave them there. I hope they would come back!
Sunday, December 22, 2013
SAILING TOWARDS THE DIAMANT
About a week after our guests came, we had to take water from the Le Marin fuel dock, so we thought we could sail in the morning towards Grande Anse D'Arlet at the west coast of Martinique first, and come back to Le Marin to anchor. Al thought that the major storm was stalled until the evening, so we would have time to turn the corner of the south coast of Martinique, which sticks out straight to the west, and come back. There is a small rock island called Diamant at the Pointe du Diamante, the major landmark visible from a long distance at the corner.
We weighed anchor in the morning, and started towards the rock. As soon as we got to the safe waters (from fish traps), Al ordered the genoa to be unfurled, and on we went with 4.5 - 5 knots. It was not all that smooth sailing though, the wind was quite strong, with a forecast of 30 - 35 knots in the afternoon. As we went half way down, having wind on our backs, I started thinking that it would be much harder and longer to come back in the afternoon against such force. If we would go as far as the Arlet, we would have to stay the night, which is not advisable in high winds, the seas get quite rolly and untenable with north swells. We know, since we had been there the last time around. We were amazed to see how the Martinque sailors tie their dinghies to the high dinghy docks; they bring the nose of the dinghy almost to the deck, while only the back side touching water, so that they hang from the side of the dock, for them not to swing with the swells.
We turned around before reaching the rock, and had a short swimming stop at St Anne, before going in to the lagoon to take water at the fuel dock. While we were busy with the water, a mono-hull came and tied to the back to get fuel. A young lady and a man started talking to Al, asking about our Swiss flag. We told him that we had visitors from there, and Oguz struck up a conversation with them, who were also from Geneva. Small world. My mother used to say that if one had a bad reputation, there would be no escape from it. Thank God.
A little later, an old man, whom we had seen before at St Anne, came to ask about the same flag. He said he had seen our boat before, but the flag was not there, why now? We had to explain about our visitors. That man was from Bern, Switzerland, and was waiting for his wife to arrive in Martinique.
After our social interaction, it was time to anchor, somewhere close to a safe dinghy dock, since their departure date was around the corner. They only had one more day, before taking off on Sunday night. So we were planning on spending time in Le Marin, and let them taste the poulet boucane. I asked Simone what boucane meant earlier, but she had no idea (it must be a made up word). She was intrigued, and asked a vendor at the market. The vendor was surprised, "what do you mean? Boucane means boucane!" We laughed a lot afterwards, imitating him "c'est boucane!".
Le Marin is not very interesting, but well protected. So we were ready for the storms. As we do not know how St Anne would be affected by the storm, I would rather be in a protected place, especially while hosting guests.
We weighed anchor in the morning, and started towards the rock. As soon as we got to the safe waters (from fish traps), Al ordered the genoa to be unfurled, and on we went with 4.5 - 5 knots. It was not all that smooth sailing though, the wind was quite strong, with a forecast of 30 - 35 knots in the afternoon. As we went half way down, having wind on our backs, I started thinking that it would be much harder and longer to come back in the afternoon against such force. If we would go as far as the Arlet, we would have to stay the night, which is not advisable in high winds, the seas get quite rolly and untenable with north swells. We know, since we had been there the last time around. We were amazed to see how the Martinque sailors tie their dinghies to the high dinghy docks; they bring the nose of the dinghy almost to the deck, while only the back side touching water, so that they hang from the side of the dock, for them not to swing with the swells.
We turned around before reaching the rock, and had a short swimming stop at St Anne, before going in to the lagoon to take water at the fuel dock. While we were busy with the water, a mono-hull came and tied to the back to get fuel. A young lady and a man started talking to Al, asking about our Swiss flag. We told him that we had visitors from there, and Oguz struck up a conversation with them, who were also from Geneva. Small world. My mother used to say that if one had a bad reputation, there would be no escape from it. Thank God.
A little later, an old man, whom we had seen before at St Anne, came to ask about the same flag. He said he had seen our boat before, but the flag was not there, why now? We had to explain about our visitors. That man was from Bern, Switzerland, and was waiting for his wife to arrive in Martinique.
After our social interaction, it was time to anchor, somewhere close to a safe dinghy dock, since their departure date was around the corner. They only had one more day, before taking off on Sunday night. So we were planning on spending time in Le Marin, and let them taste the poulet boucane. I asked Simone what boucane meant earlier, but she had no idea (it must be a made up word). She was intrigued, and asked a vendor at the market. The vendor was surprised, "what do you mean? Boucane means boucane!" We laughed a lot afterwards, imitating him "c'est boucane!".
Le Marin is not very interesting, but well protected. So we were ready for the storms. As we do not know how St Anne would be affected by the storm, I would rather be in a protected place, especially while hosting guests.
GRANDE ANSE DES SALINES
Al was checking the weather report everyday, and saw that the rains were abating a bit, so proposed to motor to the Grande Anse Des Salines, which is the best known beach around here. It is a little south east of St Anne, almost at the tip of the peninsula but facing north west.
Getting there was not easy, fish traps everywhere. As we got out of the protection of the bay of St Anne and turned the point of Dunkerque at the south-west edge, we were hit by the full force of the eastern wind and waves. All three of us were watching the fish traps and made Al change course many times. At last we reached the beach and anchored at 8 ft of water, to swim at its pristine waters and have lunch on board. There were a few huts in the distance and maybe a restaurant, but the beach was deserted.
I jumped into the water, but the swells were so high that it was hard to swim, and the water was as cold, despite its being so shallow. Swimming was no fun. Simone especially does not like cold water, she needs some encouragement at the best of times to plunge in. After a minute we both got out, and started getting ready for lunch.
The swells were hitting us from the side, the wrap around coming from south turning the Pointe des Salines to the east, while the steady wind was keeping our nose to east. I think it was the shortest lunch stop we had ever made, but Oguz (the head dishwasher) offered to wash the dishes before getting out of there. Major mistake, poor guy got seasick in no time, so I had to mix my ginger powder with cold water (tastes better with hot) to keep him steady. Thankfully it worked, and we got underway shortly.
Although the trip did not turn out as intended, our guests were so easy to please, they expressed delight at every turn (I hope not out of sheer politeness) and never complained. At least it did not rain that day, so it was not a complete write off. But I would hardly be tempted to go there again, maybe by car, to walk on the endless sandy beach.
Getting there was not easy, fish traps everywhere. As we got out of the protection of the bay of St Anne and turned the point of Dunkerque at the south-west edge, we were hit by the full force of the eastern wind and waves. All three of us were watching the fish traps and made Al change course many times. At last we reached the beach and anchored at 8 ft of water, to swim at its pristine waters and have lunch on board. There were a few huts in the distance and maybe a restaurant, but the beach was deserted.
I jumped into the water, but the swells were so high that it was hard to swim, and the water was as cold, despite its being so shallow. Swimming was no fun. Simone especially does not like cold water, she needs some encouragement at the best of times to plunge in. After a minute we both got out, and started getting ready for lunch.
The swells were hitting us from the side, the wrap around coming from south turning the Pointe des Salines to the east, while the steady wind was keeping our nose to east. I think it was the shortest lunch stop we had ever made, but Oguz (the head dishwasher) offered to wash the dishes before getting out of there. Major mistake, poor guy got seasick in no time, so I had to mix my ginger powder with cold water (tastes better with hot) to keep him steady. Thankfully it worked, and we got underway shortly.
Although the trip did not turn out as intended, our guests were so easy to please, they expressed delight at every turn (I hope not out of sheer politeness) and never complained. At least it did not rain that day, so it was not a complete write off. But I would hardly be tempted to go there again, maybe by car, to walk on the endless sandy beach.
CLEMENT RUM FACTORY AND TRINITY
During our friends' visit we were not affected by rain at all. However, not being able to sail every day dampened our spirits a bit, so we decied to rent another car, and do some inland exploration and a visit to the Rum factory. It was on the spur of the moment, but the same diesel Renaut was ready in an hour from Christian, so we went all the way to Trinity on the east coast. The trip was pleasent, since the roads are well maintained, but winding over the many hills. Views of the east coast was spectacular, but the coast seldom visible , since the road was built inland among the mountains.
First stop was at the Clement Rum factory, located near Francois. Apparently it was one of the best maintained factories, and a tourist attraction. When we got there, we saw that the vast parking lot was full of cars and several buses. Unfortunately the factory was not presently working, since their season was between June and September, but the grounds and buildings were open, with high tech personalized guide systems. It was a pity that we went there before lunch, and could not taste their multiple rums. I only had a sip of their best one (sold there for 52.- Euros a bottle), which was like brandy.
Right at the exit from the factory, we saw a sign about a restaurant, Cote d'est, and decided to try it. Simone was looking at the map (in French) while we started to travel in the opposite direction of where we were supposed to go. After some time on the winding inclines of 10 % and more, Simone warned us that we were headed into the heart of the mountains, and not the coast. Al was not happy either about getting so far away from the main highway, so he turned the car around, and climbed with difficulty, the steep hill we had just come down (Renaut is not very impressive, no power.)
On the way back, we saw at the last moment, that we had missed the turnout for the restaurant, but decided to try some other one on the main road. The east coast seems to be the tourist area, there should be some establishments to cater them.
We found an Italian place at the outskirts of Francoise, a town at the middle of the east coast, advertising pizzas etc. It had a high deck to eat outside, and a parking strip at its side, where Al just fitted the car next to a high wall, and came up. There were a group of students sitting at the deck, but nobody inside. When we tried to order something from the menu, we were told that only salads were available, since the oven had just stopped working. However, Al' s lasagna was promised. So we settled with some beers, and started to wait, and wait, and wait. We speculated that the propreitor must have sent somebody to the Carrefour accross the street to buy the greens. Even so, nothing can explain the incompetence in being so late to serve four clients. The group of children got one serving of chicken wings, and went their way.
After spending an hour, we ate our lousy salads and gladly went back to the car.
Christian had raved about our next stop, Trinity, which is a narrow peninsula, right before the second town, Robert, not far from Francois. We missed the turnout, but set back in the right direction by some school children, and went into the wilderness. I was hoping to see the both sides of the peninsula, but it was not as narrow as it seemed on the map. However, we were able to have some glimpses of the majestic mainland hills and the small bays in the sea. The south side seemed like a very calm and protected large bay, where some catamarans were anchored. (We would have to spend a lot of time cruising before we could venture out there, although it was inviting.)
While we were driving, I expressed my wish of stopping somewhere nice with a view to have coffee, and Oguz exclaimed that he was thinking the same thing at that moment (meeting of the minds!). We reached Tartan (in the middle of the peninsula, facing north) and saw that there were a number of restaurants and cafes along the beach. The weather was somewhat dark and cloudy, but it was not raining, so no matter. We sat at a table outside of a nice restaurant, where a crowd was served, but the function was winding down. We settled patiently to give the servers a breather, while enjoying the view. We ordered coffee and waited. After ten minutes, the server came back and apologized that the whole area had just lost power. What a day! We had no luck in food or drinks all day. Al bought some local chocolate from a small market next door as consolation. Is it me or these vendors are indifferent to serve their customers. I guess we have been spoilt in Turkey and Canada, with the ingenuity of the hospitality industry. In both of those countries, every customer is precious, and would be sent away satisfied; in Turkey because of the competition, in Canada because of the small size of the client pool.
It was getting late, we had a long way back, so we lost our wish of getting to the end of the peninsula, and returned to St Anne from the main highway to FDF, which we cut across from Robert. The most profitable part of the trip was stopping at the small produce market close to Riviere Salle. Nice local tomatoes, breadfruit (first and last time I saw it in Martinique), cucumbers, pineapples, watermelons, you name it. Unfortunately, one needs a car to get them, bummer.
Next morning, we went to Le Marin to do some more shopping, and Al drove up to St Anne, and set the grocery bags on the pavement at the pier, Simone and me in guard, and went to the Jumbocar office ten minutes away to give the car back. The guys were going to walk back, so the two of us settled at some benches in wait. I was a bit ticked off, that Al did not think of taking us to one of the establishments on the street, to have some coffee while waiting. We even thought of going somewhere ourselves, but laughed and decided against it. The guys would have a fit if they could not find us. The wait was not that long, Christian had the sense to drive them to St Anne. I guess after charging Oguz 54.- Euros for the car (booking through the web has its advantages), he felt a tinge of shame.
Thank God for Ruyam II! Every time we come back I feel releived, to be away from the hustle and bustle of the life on land. We had our coffees at last at home.
First stop was at the Clement Rum factory, located near Francois. Apparently it was one of the best maintained factories, and a tourist attraction. When we got there, we saw that the vast parking lot was full of cars and several buses. Unfortunately the factory was not presently working, since their season was between June and September, but the grounds and buildings were open, with high tech personalized guide systems. It was a pity that we went there before lunch, and could not taste their multiple rums. I only had a sip of their best one (sold there for 52.- Euros a bottle), which was like brandy.
Right at the exit from the factory, we saw a sign about a restaurant, Cote d'est, and decided to try it. Simone was looking at the map (in French) while we started to travel in the opposite direction of where we were supposed to go. After some time on the winding inclines of 10 % and more, Simone warned us that we were headed into the heart of the mountains, and not the coast. Al was not happy either about getting so far away from the main highway, so he turned the car around, and climbed with difficulty, the steep hill we had just come down (Renaut is not very impressive, no power.)
On the way back, we saw at the last moment, that we had missed the turnout for the restaurant, but decided to try some other one on the main road. The east coast seems to be the tourist area, there should be some establishments to cater them.
We found an Italian place at the outskirts of Francoise, a town at the middle of the east coast, advertising pizzas etc. It had a high deck to eat outside, and a parking strip at its side, where Al just fitted the car next to a high wall, and came up. There were a group of students sitting at the deck, but nobody inside. When we tried to order something from the menu, we were told that only salads were available, since the oven had just stopped working. However, Al' s lasagna was promised. So we settled with some beers, and started to wait, and wait, and wait. We speculated that the propreitor must have sent somebody to the Carrefour accross the street to buy the greens. Even so, nothing can explain the incompetence in being so late to serve four clients. The group of children got one serving of chicken wings, and went their way.
After spending an hour, we ate our lousy salads and gladly went back to the car.
Christian had raved about our next stop, Trinity, which is a narrow peninsula, right before the second town, Robert, not far from Francois. We missed the turnout, but set back in the right direction by some school children, and went into the wilderness. I was hoping to see the both sides of the peninsula, but it was not as narrow as it seemed on the map. However, we were able to have some glimpses of the majestic mainland hills and the small bays in the sea. The south side seemed like a very calm and protected large bay, where some catamarans were anchored. (We would have to spend a lot of time cruising before we could venture out there, although it was inviting.)
While we were driving, I expressed my wish of stopping somewhere nice with a view to have coffee, and Oguz exclaimed that he was thinking the same thing at that moment (meeting of the minds!). We reached Tartan (in the middle of the peninsula, facing north) and saw that there were a number of restaurants and cafes along the beach. The weather was somewhat dark and cloudy, but it was not raining, so no matter. We sat at a table outside of a nice restaurant, where a crowd was served, but the function was winding down. We settled patiently to give the servers a breather, while enjoying the view. We ordered coffee and waited. After ten minutes, the server came back and apologized that the whole area had just lost power. What a day! We had no luck in food or drinks all day. Al bought some local chocolate from a small market next door as consolation. Is it me or these vendors are indifferent to serve their customers. I guess we have been spoilt in Turkey and Canada, with the ingenuity of the hospitality industry. In both of those countries, every customer is precious, and would be sent away satisfied; in Turkey because of the competition, in Canada because of the small size of the client pool.
It was getting late, we had a long way back, so we lost our wish of getting to the end of the peninsula, and returned to St Anne from the main highway to FDF, which we cut across from Robert. The most profitable part of the trip was stopping at the small produce market close to Riviere Salle. Nice local tomatoes, breadfruit (first and last time I saw it in Martinique), cucumbers, pineapples, watermelons, you name it. Unfortunately, one needs a car to get them, bummer.
Next morning, we went to Le Marin to do some more shopping, and Al drove up to St Anne, and set the grocery bags on the pavement at the pier, Simone and me in guard, and went to the Jumbocar office ten minutes away to give the car back. The guys were going to walk back, so the two of us settled at some benches in wait. I was a bit ticked off, that Al did not think of taking us to one of the establishments on the street, to have some coffee while waiting. We even thought of going somewhere ourselves, but laughed and decided against it. The guys would have a fit if they could not find us. The wait was not that long, Christian had the sense to drive them to St Anne. I guess after charging Oguz 54.- Euros for the car (booking through the web has its advantages), he felt a tinge of shame.
Thank God for Ruyam II! Every time we come back I feel releived, to be away from the hustle and bustle of the life on land. We had our coffees at last at home.
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