SAILING TO DES SAINTS - CHRISTMAS EVE TO NEW YEAR'S EVE

We had seen our friends Sid and Peg of Liming Time, in St Anne a couple of days earlier. Sid and Peg are from BC, Canada, and store their mono-hull in Grenada Marine. They  come and go to Grenada at the same time as we do (being snow birds like us) and stay at La Sagesse while dealing with the boat at the marina. We had mentioned the anchorage of St Anne earlier, so they decided to take a look. Not being French speakers like us, they stayed away from Martinique before. Sid and Peg showed interest in travelling north with us, and promised to meet up at St Pierre on Christmas eve.

We started from Le Marin around 7:00 hours, and made good time up to the Diamond Rock at the south western corner of Martinique, having the wind on our backs. After turning the rock, we were in the lee of the mountains a bit, so helped the sails by engine for a short while, and picked up speed a little later while passing the large bay of Fort De France. Long story short, we reached St Pierre around 2:00 pm and anchored at the south shore of its bay, across a small beach, a little away from the harbour. We jumped into water first, and then called Liming Time on VHF. They responded, and came over from the harbour,  to anchor by our side.

We spent Christmas Eve together at Ruyam II. I cooked, they brought wine and beer, and we had a really merry time.

Sid complained, that they missed the customs guy at St Pierre by ten minutes to clear out, and would have to wait there two more days for the office to open. Al felt awful, for not having mentioned the possibility of doing it at St Anne (like we have done). He forgot that it was Syd and Peg's first time in St Anne, and we had showed them around the area when they came. Damage was done, and they stayed on, while we started our passage to Dominica in the morning.

It was a choppy passage, but we almost flew, having brisk winds. Especially near Scott's Head (south west corner of Domonica), the meeting current and wrap around winds were a bit frightening, but short-lived. We made to Rousseau, and called for Pancho on VHF. He was not answering his telephone. His wife responded, and promised to send him to us. I was a bit apprehensive, that day being Christmas, and him being prone to party a little too much.

He came and helped all right. Then he started to giggle, and declared that he kind of remembered Al and I. Then Levent called to him, announcing himself as the Kebab-man from Martinique. Pancho immediately expressed recognition and delight. Apparently Levent had sent a number of Turkish sailors to Pancho, during the year.
Al invited Pancho aboard, and fed him some more booze. It was a good thing that there were no more incoming boats in view. After a short visit, we sent Pancho to his family.

Next morning we took off quite early, as we were to reach De Bourg, Terre de Haut in Les Saints from Rousseau, about 40  miles. Most of the trip was in the lee of Dominica, the crossing being only 18 miles. We motored up, and hoisted sails around Porstmouth, Dominica, which is almost at the northeast edge.

The crossing was over in about three hours, but it was quite bumpy. When we reached the narrow crossing between two smaller islands of Les Saints, we were welcomed by the fishermen's nets, everywhere. It was like a maze, so all of us were on the lookout. We could hardly find some space to go, in order to pull down the sails before proceeding further.

We had to go around the south shore of the Terre De Haut, the main island of Les Saints, to reach Bourg Des Saints, the small fishing village, where we had to clear in. We passed by two anchorages, which seemed to be full of boats. When we reached Bourg, we saw that its harbour (if it could be called that) was also almost full, only a few mooring balls left in view. Bourg was situated at the west shore of the middle of Terre en Haut, where the island was quite narrow. It was overlooking the small island called Ilet Cabrit,  and the channel between them was open to the north. The east wind was coming from north, wrapping around the island and beating the harbour. Waves also. After we took a mooring ball and secured ourselves, we went into the village. The dingy dock was nice, but the first thing one noticed was the stench coming from the open sewer beside the walkway onto the street. All over Martinique, we saw water treatment plants, no open sewers.  In the other islands of the Caribbean, they do not seem to have the means or feel the necessity oftreating the sewage. We were surprised that Les Saints were quite behind the times. On the other hand, the village was very quaint, very European. It even reminded me of Marmaris, before it was discovered by tourists.

When we returned to Ruyam II, Al was adamant that we should leave immediately, to find a place in the anchorages in Ilet Cabrit and the south west corner of Terre en Haut, which seemed to be much calmer. However, we needed water, which was only available in Bourg. It was getting late, so I made  an executive decision to stay the night. Nobody was happy in the morning, however. All night we rolled like crazy. East waves were turning around the north point and hitting us from the side, all night long, with no letting on.

In the morning, we tried to contact the water man mentioned in Doyle, but got no answer. Guylaine and I also wanted to take the ferry to Guadeloupe, to do some shopping.  So, before 9:00 am, we were at the ferry dock, inquiring about the Pointe-a-Pitre ferry. To our dismay, we learned that the ferry that was terrorizing us every three hours starting from the dock of Bourg during the day was only making a round trip to Riviere Sens (south west Guadeloupe), and also going to Mary Gallant and the other three small islands around. The only ferry to Pointe-a-Pitre was the main one coming from Martinique in the evening. If we wanted to go to Point-a-Pitre, we wound have to spend the night there. Forget Guadeloupe. I had been to Riviere Sens before, not impressive.

We decided to ask about the water at the place we registered our boat. Apparently it was the right place, they gave us a key to turn on the hose at the end of  the main ferry dock. The nice lady at the office gave us instructions to tie the boat to the lower deck attached to the end of the dock, and bring the water key back after done. She asked us about our estimate for the volume of water needed, and charged us in advance. It was obvious from the operation, that there would be nobody to help us tie the boat to the dock when we came. So, Levent and Guylaine stayed behind, and we rushed to Ruyam II to bring it to the dock.

Taking water turned out to be one of the easiest, thanks to Levent giving us a hand at the dock. If they had not been there, I guess, I had to stay behind, or leap onto the dock from Ruyam II with the lines. None of the prospects seem easy for us.

After we finished, we thought of trying our luck at the anchorages around the area. We went to the south west corner, which was quite calm, but so full of boats that, we could not risk squeezing in. We checked the Ilet Cabrit, but all the mooring balls were occupied. It was the week-end during holidays, all Guadeloupe and who-knows-what-else sailors were there. No hope to have a quiet night, and a decent swim!

We went back to our previous mooring at the harbour, but went further north, which seemed a bit more protected from the waves. Another sleepless night waiting. After a couple of hours, we saw that some people who came to the harbour late were hard-pressed to find a mooring. Imagine, being left high and dry (or wet) in the middle of the ocean, because anchoring in the harbour is not possible.

In the meantime, Al was checking the weather forecast, and was concerned that strong winds were being mentioned for the new year's day and beyond. Our initial plan was to spend four days in Les Saints, and return to Martinique on the 2nd of January, 2015. Levent is interested in spear-fishing, and has the gear for it. After seeing the anchorages, which seemed to be full of all kinds of fish, Levent was really disappointed when we could not stay.  However, the forecast dictated that we should return to the safety of St Anne, Martinique on New Year's Eve. No dilly-dallying in Les Saints, we had to march back.

After the second night, we started mid-morning for our trip back, but only up to Portsmouth, Dominica. The passage was only three hours, but wind was on the nose and hefty, waves similar. However, everybody agreed that, the waves on the way were not much harder than the rolls of the previous two nights. When we reached Portsmouth, we could not believe the calm waters of the harbour. (It could be rolly there too, in northerly swells). We were on the look-out for our friends, Liming Time and Balikcil. We spotted the former, and got a ball close by, but Balikcil was not there.

After we got settled, we saw Sid and Peg whizzing by in their dinghy. Apparently they were having a great time, taking part in a dinghy poker run organized by PAYS, Portsmouth Association of Yacht Security. There were a few other boats, and ther were several check points at different places around the bay,  US$40.- per hand. Sid raved about the prizes to be won, which made the fee worth while. We are not "gamblers" so we let them go, while we swam in the somewhat murky waters. I wanted to eat out, so we got ready and rode to the small dinghy-dock of Purple Turtle for dinner, which was the only restaurant open on a Sunday during holiday season.

Sid and Peg promised to join us there for drinks later on. However, when we got there, we learned that they did not have any fish or meat. Chicken did not seem attractive (after eating Levent's chicken donair, nothing compares). Guys had a round of beer, we purchased a bag of ice, and we returned to Ruyam II. We cooked what we had, which turned into an excellent meal with the help of raki. Moreover, Levent expressed his relief, for not being forced to eat there "Have you seen that kitchen?" He was saying. I had never eaten at that restaurant, but had been to some others at the area. It had not been bad experiences in the past, but it seems that everywhere is going down in the Caribbean lately. Sid was mentioning earlier that all the anchorages on the way to Martinique being empty, even Admiralty Bay,  Bequia. (We had not observed any change there, when we passed a month earlier than them.) St Lucia was deserted. For good reason! The crime updates mention St Lucia everyday, criminals getting more daring, probably more desperate every day. Armed robberies, assaults on sailors. They must be out of their minds, people will pass by them in the future, if they do not shape up.

Next morning, not very early, we motored to Rousseau. When we got close to Pancho's moorings, we saw Balikcil, and got tied next to them. We went into town for some essentials, and got back to get ready for another party. I am amazed by our ability to accommodate seven people at Ruyam II's cock-pit. If we had a chair, maybe eight could squeeze around the table, but that would be pushing it. Goes without saying that it was another very merry night, with lively conversation, fuelled by raki, and some goodies from Turkey (like pastirma (spicy pastrami) they brought, and pumpkin dessert that Elif cooked. Hmm, excellent.)

 We were anxious to get back as soon as possible, but poor Levent wanted to do some fishing before the end of their only holiday. He proposed to sail as far as Anse D'Arlet, after making the passage from Dominica, and skip St Pierre in Martinique. It was a 50 mile trip, most of it under wind. Lee of Matinique is almost non-existent, thanks to the large gap of Fort de France.

We started around 7:00 am, and reached Anse D'Arlet around 3:00 pm. It was a rough and long passage, and we were grateful to be able to relax at last. Levent jumped into the water, in pursuit of fish. I was counting on him for the New Year's Eve meal. Our supplies were shrinking, most of all bread completely gone. But I knew an excellent bakery at the village of Arlet (not Grand Anse D'Arlet mind you, that is a bigger anchorage, next door to Arlet, but most of the strip of small buildings at the shore are occupied by restaurants, no grocers. However it is possible to clear in and out there.)
We were looking at a restaurant at the shore from the place where we moored. I recognized it from the other time we had been at Arlet, and suggested having dinner there. Guylaine had been craving for lambi (conch) for some time, which is my favorite too; and I had eaten it at that restaurant. We called the telephone number advertised on the face of the building. Can you believe it, they were closed on account of exceptional circumstances for that night (Tuesday). Damnation!

Early in the next morning, we went to the dinghy dock, and headed to the bakery. I was thinking of buying fish as well, and have breakfast at the shore, while we were at it. What was I thinking? The French restaurant owners were not prepared to wait on customers so early in the morning. Fish market would only open around noon time - who would want to shop at that ungodly hour as 8:00 am?

We bought some amazing bread, and returned to Ruyam II. Al was anxious to get underway. Around 9:30 am, we started motoring. Sailing was out of the question, waves huge, wind 20-28 knots on the nose, as soon as we peeped out of the corner. Al and I debated about passing through the channel between the Diamond Rock or not. I remember from our last  attempt, that there was such a strong current at the narrow channel, it took us as long as going around the rock. However, this time the waves were so high, Al did not want to go around. I was secretly hoping for some other boat to show the way. While we were struggling the wind and the waves at 3.5 miles an hour, we saw more than one sail boat hugging the main coast and passing the channel. Despite being close to the rock, Al turned towards the channel, and we made our passage. Thankfully, the current was in the right direction, and helped us pass the rock, which seemed to me as long as an hour.  I could not understand how people were hugging the coast, since the water was like a mine field with the fishermen's nets. The mono-hulls do not seem to mind them, which we are quite frantic to avoid. Who knows?

It took us four hours to reach Le Marin, bobbing in the waves at a snail speed. But like everything else, that too passed, and we got tied to the fuel dock at last, to fill our water. Levent and Guylaine left Ruyam II on foot, promising to come back for the New Year's Eve celebration. All of us were exhausted from the week long excursion, the last leg of which was the hardest.

When we left the fuel dock, to motor to St Anne, Al heard some noise from the starboard engine, and turned it off. He mentioned having seen a plastic bag, bobbing in the water near the boat. Thankfully, the wind was pushing us west most of the way. After turning towards St Anne, Al refrained from going all the way to the beach with one engine, and decided to anchor somewhat in the middle of the anchorage. Although it is a wast area, the number of boats already anchored was incredible. It seemed that everybody was following the same weather news, and seeked refuge at St Anne.

We anchored in the middle of two Canadian sail boats, and had a sigh of relief at last. Now it was time to get ready for the celebration, with whatever was left in the pantry and the fridge. It turned out sufficient for the night. Raki supply was gone, but we had some Lebanese arak from last year, Selcuk's gift. As well, a bottle of champange, also from last year, since we had drunk Selcuk's Don Perignon for celebrating the beginning of 2014.

We ate and drunk (mostly the latter), watched several shows of fireworks, in St Anne, Club Med and some distant small village. We were so tired, we hardly stayed longer than half an hour past midnight. Levent and Guylaine spent their last night at Ruyam II, and left the next morning, anxious to be back at their home at last, to rest before the grind.

BALIKCIL IN LE MARIN

About a week before Christmas, we learned that Levent was thinking of closing the restaurant for about ten days during the holidays, since his major clientele (high school students) would be staying home. We immediately suggested a sailing trip to Les Saints, the group of small islands between Dominica and Guadaloupe. Everybody raves about them, but we had passed them by during our initial  travel down. They agreed. Guylaine was pleased that she would be able to explore a new place in the Caribbean. She was born in Le Marin, Martinique, but was raised in Paris, France. During the last eight years of their stay in Le Marin, after their return to Martinique, she had several sailing trips with friends, to St Vincent and Grenadines in the south, and to Dominica with us, last year, but not to  Guadeloupe.

All of us were excited, and planned on starting our trip early in the morning of December 24th. The only concern was the notorious Christmas winds, although the weather had been unseasonably calm for more than ten days. The forecast for the holidays was brisk winds (mostly dark blue in the color Passage Weather charts) and low seas. No problem, we needed some wind to sail.

We did our provisioning together,  and almost demolished Levent's old car in the process. On our way back from the discount stores, the engine started to billow smoke. Levent immediately stopped in the middle of the highway, and sprinkled some water on the burning exhaust insulator. We waited for Guylaine's sister-in-law to give us a ride home, leaving Levent with the car. I felt awful, and wondered if it was a bad omen for the up coming trip. We learned afterwards that Levent was able to start the car and reached home.

We planned to motor to Le Marin on the 23rd and anchor, so that Levent and Guylaine could come aboard that night, for an early take off in the morning. Poor guys, they were to  work all day, close shop in the evening and come aboard in the dark.

Befor every trip, we fill our water tanks, period. Around noon on the 23rd, I was sitting at the front of Ruyam II, filling the starboard tank from the fuel dock, which is literally in the middle of the Le Marin marinas, and about the end of the channel leading there. The sea around is quite lively at all times, with the boats and dinghys whizzing by. While I was looking around, I saw one big mono-hull almost stationary beside Ruyam II, idling. I first thought that they wished to come to the fuel docķ, but realized later that they were waiting for the dockmaster Gustav for assistance. Then the name of the boat attracted my attention; Balikcil. Sounds like Turkish, but without the cedille. Lo and behold, they had the Turkish flag, as well as the insignia of ARC (ATLANTIC RALLY FOR CRUISERS between Grand Canary and St. Lucia). Wow, they obviously had crossed the Atlantic. So I hollered "hosgeldiniz - welcome" and they looked, but were too busy with their lines to pay attention. A little later Gustav came and led them to a berth around the corner from the fuel dock. So that Al was able to walk over and greet them.

That night, after Guylaine and Levent came aboard, we went to visit the trio; the owners Elif and Mustafa, and Meric, who did not make the crossing, but joined them in St Lucia before they made the passage to Le Marin. We learned that they were also thinking of travelling north, and decided to keep in touch. We gave them the name of Pancho in Rousseau, Dominica, to get help; and made our farewells, hoping to see them again.

WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS

As soon as we anchored in St Anne, we had realized that the UV protector on our genoa had some rips again, and the whole thing should be replaced. Le Marin has a two marinas and a boat yard, and as many chandleries while half its population is somehow employed in the support industries; but the myth is they work for European remuneration standards. We had never before been in a position to get work done  there. The parts an materials for the boats are the same price as American, but in Euroes, that is at least 30% more expensive for us Canadians.

Long story short, we decided to ask around for the work to be done, and also check with Martin at Grenada Marine to decide. The only price we knew was the patchwork we had got done in Rodney Bay marina in St Lucia last year. We had paid about $60.- Canadian for less than 2 meters long of a patch. On the other hand, we needed our genoa for sailing, even to St Lucia; so bite the bullet and see what they had! We checked our French For Sailors guide to learn the terminology in French, and armed ourselves for the ardous task of communication.

First we went to a sailmaker accross the street from the main marina and the chandlery (Caraibe Marine) in Le Marin. The owner/operator speculated that the two edges of our genoa to be covered would be around 18 meters, and he would charge 37.- Euros per meter. A rough calculation was $1,000.- Canadian. Hmm.

Next step, we discussed the issue with our friend Levent (who is also the main advisor - muhtar of Martinique). He mentioned a big sailmaker outfit close to the boatyard in Carenage, and the other big chandleries, further down in the town. Levent indicated that our friend from last year, Selcuk had used that outfit, and was impressed. Levent  gave us directions to get there.

We started according to the directions, but got as far as the boatyard, and a little beyond, where there were several strip malls gathered together, but not the big building he had talked about. So we returned to the boatyard, and asked about the sailmaker. The attendant showed us the one operating there. We talked to the nice guy (Michel) working at Voile Assistance (who spoke some English), and gave the price as 30.- Euros per meter, and he was going to use blue Sunbrella (better than dacron according to the blogs on the web). Wow, right off the bat, more than $10.- Canadian less per meter. Al decided on the spot to bring the genoa there.

We went back to Ruyam II and brought the genoa down. Before we packaged it, we roughly measured and saw that the total length was 15 meters. Since the sail package is quite heavy, we arranged with Levent to give us a ride to the boatyard from St Anne.

After we dropped off the sail, Levent showed us the other place that he meant. Apparently down the road from the shopping centre (called Artimer), there was a dinghy access and a bigger chandlery (called Clippers Ship Sarl), where the sailmaker was occupying a hangar. When we looked from outside, Al decided that they would not charge less than ours, since all of the outfits there looked new and more prosperous than our boatyard. We consoled ourselves that we had made a mistake, but found the best place to fit our budget. Michel promised to finish the job in five days, but called us a day early, so we motored Ruyam II to Le Marin, and went to take the genoa by dingy, since access by sea to the boatyard is easier. In the end we paid 450.- Euros cash, everybody was happy. Oh, I forgot to mention that Martin would charge for the same work, US$800.- (more than $1,000.- Canadian now.) Grenada come to your senses!

We have a saying in Turkish, if God wants to make you happy, he first makes you lose your mule, and lets you find it. We were happy, that we saved about $400.- Canadian, and did not worry about the amount that we paid. We have yet to try our genoa.

Almost right after we put the genoa up, Al found out that there was a bit of water in the starboard bilge (first time we ever saw it, probably from the waves that came in from the hatches on the way), but the pump was not working. Nothing to be done, but replace it. It must have been corroded from no usage. The only time it was used during the four years, had been when the other pump for discharging the water from the shower malfunctioned. Al had used the bilge pump to clear the shower, and replaced the shower pump.

What could we do, but go to the Carenage boatyard chandlery to ask for a new bilge pump. Carenage did not have the one we were looking for, they have an immense inventory of second had boat parts, but not much new. So we walked further up to the Clippers. They had only one in stock, for 300.- Euros. She gave us 15.- Euros discount after we cried about the outrageous price, and we bought the damned thing.
While Al was working away in cramped conditions in the head, under the sink, our refrigerator decided to stop working. When we saw that all our meat in the freezer was thawed, I cooked them all.

Al could not understand the reason for the erratic performance of the fridge, since it was not completely gone, but working and stopping for no reason it seemed. Al thought that the reason could be related to low amperage of the batteries, since it had been gloomy for the last couple of days - worst part of solar chargers. He started the engines, and the refrigerator started working; however, it was not regular, either working constantly for a long time, or not at all. Al checked the Budget Marine catalogs, and on line for some French suppliers; $1,000.- bucks to change the compressor system. Not good!

The compressor is located in the storage under our dining room seat, next to the fridge. Al was first spending time listening to the hum of the compressor, then decided to check the line running from the compressor to the fridge. Apparently if it gets cold, the compressor is working fine.

One evening, both of the engines were running (quite a lot of noise), Al was kneeling down in front of the seat holding the fridge line, and I was at the far end, reading. All of a sudden I heard a loud "PSST", and Al looked at me with some confusion, and let out "the line broke!". All the gas in the fridge was gone in a couple of seconds. Now we were really without a fridge, which contained the food that I had cooked a day before, several plastic containers worth. I begged Al to leave the fridge alone, and turn the engines off immediately. Peace at last! Early in the morning we will get ice from shore  and fill the ice chest with the food from the fridge!

Now, we were in need of a mechanic, and fast. What to do, but ask Levent of course. A smart decision again. When we asked him, Levent told us a story about the refrigeration specialist in Le Marin. Some time back, there was a Turkish sailor at the Le Marin marina, who needed the same service. He got the company located at the marina (Tilikum) to check his fridge, and learned that he would have to dish out 800.- Euros, to replace his compressor. The sailor could not believe it, and asked somebody else, who estimated half the expense. With the conflicting estimates, he turned to Pascal, the owner operator of Nautic Froid. Pascal asked if the mechanic at Tilikum had seen the fridge. When the guy confirmed, Pascal started laughing, indicating that Tilikum had asked to buy a compressor from him the day before. Pascal thought that he was going to charge double for the new compressor, and sell the old one, since it was working fine. In the end, Pascal charged the guy 50.- Euros for some minor adjustment. Pascal became Levent's mechanic for the restaurant fridges after that time.

We arranged  with Pascal to see the fridge around 3:00 o'clock on a Friday at Le Marin. So, we motored all the way, replenished our water and anchored. I was not very optimistic about our prospects, what could a mechanic do in a couple of hours, other than diagnostics? The next day being the week-end, I despaired that we would have to wait until Monday for complete repairs.

Well, I was wrong. He met us at Elite Kebab, and asked me to accomapny him in his dingy, to show our boat, while Al went alone in our dinghy. He checked the broken line, went back to bring his soldering and gas filling equipment and finished the work in about an hour and a half. He declared that the fridge was working fine, but our energy storage capacity was at the lower end, which created the problem. When Al mentioned his intention of buying two extra solar panels, he suggested adding two more batteries instead, indicating that the fridge was designed to shut itself off as a safety precaution, as soon as the voltage provided by the batteries dipped lower that 11.8V. The solution was to increase the amperage. Long live Pascal! The whole thing cost us 80,- Euros, and we learned something besides.

THE TRAMPOLINE STORY

At the beginning of last season, we had seen that the trampoline started showing some signs of wear and tear. As we were scared of going through the holes while underway, Al thought of repairing it by weaving white string through the vulnerable portions. We laboured a lot, using pincers and my crochet needle and reinforced most of it, but it did not look all that good.

While we were at St Anne last year, Al inquired at our favorite Chandlery (Caraibe Marin) about a new trampoline to be ordered from France. 600.- Euros (about $900.- Canadian) seemed too steep, so we did not go ahead with it.  After we returned to Canada, Al checked on line and found a vendor in France who promised to send it to us for close to $800.- Canadian, so it seemed a good deal.  When we thought about where to receive it; Canada would require GST to be paid on top, and we would have to carry it in our luggage, and, Grenada would likewise might create a problem at the customs. Then he remembered our friend Levent of Elite Kebab in Le Marin, Martinique. We thought delivery there would be without any complications, since it is French soil! Al asked for Levent's address and ordered the trampoline, paying on credit. They assured him that it would reach Martinique in about two weeks (this was in June). We knew that Levent and Guylaine were to travel to Turkey at the end of July, ample time to receive our purchase.

As it turned out, they almost did not get it before they left. The problem was with the customs (!) There was a tax to be paid (120.- Euros) and inquiries and investigations to be made, since there was no invoice included in the package. Al had to send many emails to the company to supply the invoice, they claimed that it was included, etc, etc. After a long and arduous process, Levent was able to put the package in their home, and left for Turkey. He had to pay the tax himself of course. I was ashamed beyond reason for putting them through such an ordeal, but there was no turning back. We did not send our debt through the bank, since it is very expensive and an ordeal in itself, when dealing with European banks. All in all, it was a waste of effort on everybody, when we could have ordered the thing for the same price through the chandlery in Le Marin. Oh well, live and learn.

The first day after our arrival, we surprised Levent and Guylaine at their kebab house in the morning (they were expecting us the next day). After exchanging pleasentries, Levent showed us the package, and asked us if it was made in Turkey. What? No, we don't think so. Why? Apparently it was delivered in a carton box, which was bearing the name and address of a company in Tuzla, Turkey, however the sender was the French company. It was a bit puzzling, but Al thought the French must have recycled the box. Obviously they had been buying some stuff from Turkey and why waste a box?

Anyway, we were happy to get our hands on the long expected and discussed item. Al had been planning on how to install it for so long, that he could not wait to get started. He declared that we were going to keep the old trampoline as long as possible, while knotting the numerous ties all around of the new one.

We laid it out, pulling the corners first, but we could not stretch it. I noticed that the edges of the mesh were composed of two thick ropes, the inside one very sturdy, the outside scalloped, but a bit flimsy. I thought that the scalloped one could be slowly stretched by tying one by one, however it did not look right, to keep the sturdy rope out.

I suggested looking on line how to install it, but Al, who is a master of planning and visualization, could not be bothered to look outside for guidance.

He labored for two days, and was actually able to stretch it to its place, and discard the old mesh. After all that work, and securing one corner with elaborate knotting, he decided to look at the manufacturer's web-site. Lo and behold! There was a picture of the finished product, which showed that the knots should have included the sturdy rope, as well as the outside scalloped one.

All in all, it took us a week of working at it on and off, and I helped some, but not with the whole thing.

Now it looks very white (the old one was real canvas, this one synthetic), but the loops of the mesh are so big, that the hard nylon rope cuts one's bare feet, and toes get trapped in the holes. I wear deck shoes when I am running around on the trampoline while anchoring and catching a mooring ball, so it does not matter. What matters is, that our feet are not going to make a hole in the mesh while walking on it.

THE FINAL STRETCH

Monday morning, we finished breakfast around 7:30, and Al was leisurely getting ready to start for Rodney Bay, located at the north west corner of St Lucia. We always stay at the marina there, before tackling the channel to Martinique. As St Anne is close to the south east corner of the island, it is only 24 miles away. However, north easterly winds become on the nose,  easterly winds are quite helpful.

While Al was getting ready, I was looking at the chart, and it dawned on me that staying at Rodney Bay after three hours of motoring in the lee is ludicrous. Although it is a sheltered marina, which comes handy during northerly swells, it is a very hot and dirty place. As well, Al found numerous incidents reported in the last few months about Rodney Bay, regarding theft, assault etc in the marina, and larsony at the local bank in the village around it. The criminal elements installed a fake keypad at the ATM machine, which copied the bank information as well as the passwords of a few unsuspecting sailors who were trying to withdraw money from their accounts. They were swindled out of thousands of dollars through another branch of the bank at Vieux Fort (south of St Lucia), by the thieves, who used the card information.

Moreover, the police did not help the sailors when they complained, citing lack of evidence of any wrong doing. Really? Wouldn't the camera at the top of ATM machine record the suspicious activity of installing the fake pad? I thought that the bank officials and the police may have cooperated with the criminal elements,  and disregarded the video.

When I thought about the prospect of staying at the marina, I suggested to Al to skip it, and make the passage that day. The storms were expected to start on the night of Tuesday, better to reach to safety a day before. Al was surprised, but immediately saw the merit of the idea.

We were up and ready in a minute, and started our second long passage. This time we went underway at 8:10 am, prepared to motor all the way to the top of St Lucia. Halfway underway, we saw that a lot of favorable wind was accelerating over the valleys among the various mountains. Main sail went up, and we picked up speed. Our average did not go under 6 knots, at times more. At around 10:30 am we were level with Rodney Bay, but the wind was such that we sailed straight on, without turning east to the top of the tapering island.

The high mounds of St Pierre (north of Martinique) and st Anne (south east) rose above the mists as two separate islands. As we left the relative shelter of St Lucia, the ocean waves and the wind (varying between 20 and 35 knots) hit us. But we learned to ride the storms, so inched our way towards the wind (the best angle was 45 degrees), pinching towards St Anne where the wind was coming from most of the time. We unfurled the genoa, but it was almost flapping all the way. So the engine was on, in order to maintain our speed.

Around 2:00 pm, we could discern the barn-like apartments of St Luce, which is west of the lagoon of  Le Marin. We congratulated ourselves for making it in such a short time, in the light of unfavorable wind direction; and felt almost at home, less than an hour away.

While we were gingerly bobbing on, I saw in the sea several patches of floating carpets, made of  sea-grass living on the ocean surface. We had encountered them at different places before, but never that big and dense. I wondered if they would damage the propeller, but Al was confident, and did not bother to turn the engine off. We passed through several of them in quick succession. I was a bit concerned, but nothing to do.

As we got closer to the island, it became harder to point towards St Anne, since the wind was on the nose. Al pointed towards St Luce, and thought of lowering the sails when close, and motoring towards our anchorage. However, he started to feel that the engines were not contributing to our speed. He panicked a bit about the sea-grass, and started imagining about a vibration from the engine. He said we should turn the port engine down, in case of any damage to the sail drive, so that we could have power to release the anchor which requires that engine to be operational. When he turned the engines off and on, we saw that both were purring beautifully, but did not seem to have much power. We prayed for  no damage for the sail drive, and ploughed on. Le Marin is a good place to get anything fixed, all one needs is money.
By that time, we had approached the island quite a bit, and Saline Point, the south east corner, was to our starboard, which started to show its effect on the wind and on the waves; former negative, latter positive.

Al kept the starboard engine on, and decided to tack towards Saline Point, in order to get as close to St Anne by sail as possible. As always on catamarans, the powerful winds made it quite hard to tack, but we prevailed after two tries. We spent about an hour in getting close to our destination with two tacks, but in the meantime a storm cell decided to hit us, with 35 knot wind and a downpour of a torrent. Al told me to hold on to the genoa sheet around the winch, and to release slowly when needed, while he was guarding the main sheet at the same time, while passing through the accelerated winds. It was a bit tense, but did not  last long.

As we were quite close to the anchorage at St Anne, we managed to lower the sails, and Al revved the starboard engine. Poor thing, by itslef it was powerless against the 25 knot wind. I suggested starting the port engine as well to offset Al' s panic. When both were on, we were able to make 4.5 knots (which should be normal in such adverse conditions) and almost reached our usual spot overlooking the Buccaneer's Beach beside the Club-Med.

I wanted to get my anchor ready; so got my remote control, opened the winlass cover and released a bit of chain to get the anchor dangling overboard, while passing among several of the anchored boats.

The anchor dangled, and all of a sudden got released all the way. It was my turn to panic! "ALPEEEEL". He had heard, but first he had to steer our aft away from hitting the boat we were trying to pass. Then he came to help, but by that time the chain got stuck around the lead, and stopped. We saw that it had come off the gypsy wheel, probably due to constant beating of the waves. Al pulled it over the wheel, and went back to his rudder. I tackled with chain, and pulled the anchor out. Phew! That was the last draw. I had never experienced or anticipated anything like it before; and it was scary, especially when boats are so close to each other. Note to myself: never slack the chain before checking the winlass!

Well, at last we are here, at our favorite winter anchorage.

ST. VINCENT AND THE GRENADINES IN A FLASH

Al had been checking the weather constantly at the multiple sites, which consistently report about a potential storm approaching, first on Thursday, then on Wednesday; so we decided to hurry up and skip some of the ports that we stop at regularly, in order to break the sailing time. However, I hate the high seas that develop during the storms and the swells that never seem to subside long after, more than sailing a few hours longer at a time.

This year, we decided to do things differently, and debated about the ports to be passed. First we thought Bequia was a candidate, getting to Wallilabou, St Vincent is doable from Canouan, in about seven hours; however Bequia is the only place we know that getting water and diesel is easy. Al was apprehensive of starting a long stretch without filling the fuel tanks, on the way we used a lot of diesel (about one third), and it may be a bit tight , if we had to use the engines all the way. So, Bequia we had to visit, and clear out from; then skip Wallilabou and reach the Pitons, St Lucia. Al minutely calculated, and found that from the anchorage of Admiralty Bay, to the mooring balls of the Jalousie resort would be 51 miles. As we always estimate an average of 5 miles per hour for Ruyam II, we prepared ourselves to sail 10 hours.
After reaching Bequia in a bit over three hours, winds being favorable from Canouan, first thing to do was to call Daffodil Yacht Services to book an appointment for the mobile tanking station to come to Ruyam II. We called the telephone number provided in the giude book (our bible), but received a message. It was Saturday, were they not working? Since we wanted to catch the Customs officials before lunch, we hurried to the building.

On our way back, we stopped at the chandlery, very close to the dinghy dock to ask about Daffodil. The lady assured us that they should be working, however, if we could not reach them, we could use the services of Kingfisher tanker, anchored in the bay, right across from the chandlery. She also provided their number, which we called. There were people on board to help us anyway we wished. The only thing is, we had to weigh anchor and ride there to get our precious water and diesel. Oh well, it can be done. We cursed our cluelessness; we could have boarded the tanker on our way in, and maybe continue without stopping. Maybe next time.

Before weighing anchor, Al tried the VHF, since their number is also provided in the book, but got no response. I suggested trying channel 16 first, and it worked. They apparently monitor 16, and instruct to turn to 67 to communicate. I think this is the way people do business, not knowing if everybody is aware of their number. Phew, we got lucky! Daffodil promised to send the small catamaran with the multiple tanks at 1:30 pm, and we sat to our lunch with a sigh of relief.

The guy promptly came, gave us what we needed, and did not complain for taking too long to fill our water tanks, since we use double filters. Of course the water they provide from is not the cleanest, as was apparent on the first coarse filter, and discarded it immediately afterwards. No problem for us.

We decided to start at 6:00 am the next morning, in order to reach the Pitons at a timely manner, long before dusk at 6:00 pm. You never know what might happen on the way! Although we are generally not conservative people, we agree on being ultra conservative in our estimations, and hence we are always early for wherever we go. Even house parties, we get to the door sometimes before the hosts would be ready. As every Turk (and some Spaniards) know that the given party start time is an estimation for at least one hour early for the guests; however we had always felt like aliens, in Turkey, and even sometimes in Canada. We do not conform to the norms, but the people that we love seem to tolerate us. What else could anyone ask.
Long story short, we started at 6:10 am on Sunday morning, furled out the sails, but kept the engines running, since Al wanted to maintain 6 knots per hour. The channel between Bequia and St Vincent was passed about an hour and a half, and the lee of the island was achieved.

Doyle reminds the readers to be aware of th erratic wind schemes of St Vincent, probably due to it top heavy shape. He recommends reefing the sails when reaching the north portion of the island, since sudden burst of high winds were possible to encounter, due to the wind wrapping around the mountain.

We did encounter them, coupled with some storm cells, which gave our speed quite a burst at times. We reached the north corner in less than four hours, and started to sail in the channel. While we were riding the mini storms along the way, a depth finder reading caught my attention. It was 11.8 feet at some point off of the island I presume, but when I looked, the depth could not be measured, being over 500 feet.
This is a phenomenon that we had seen before about that area, which of course had scared me half to death. Moreover, both the GPS and the Imray chart mention that this particular area was not surveyed properly. Whatever exists at the northwest corner of the island, which we measured at 10-15 feet below the surface of the body of water which is close to 1,000 feet deep, seems to be also seen and reported by some people. Al speculates that it probably is a school of fish. Everytime we pass, in the same area and the same depth? We don't know what it is, but it did not hurt us yet.

The channel is 30 miles, and our estimation was six hours. We passed it in four, and reached the general area at 2:00 pm. Jalousie is the first sheltered bay between the Gros and the Petit Piton. It is small and very deep, so anchoring is not possible, but there are a few mooring balls that are maintained by St Lucia coast guard administration. And there are boat-boys to help find the pennant (deep in water, not fishable from high up), so we tied up around 2:30 and congratulated each other for our fearlessness (!). When it was over, I felt OK, but on the way the multiple mini storms were quite scary. The sea was relentlessly harsh - waves were not too high, but short and forceful. So it was a constant beating on the hulls. Thankfully, this time we were prepared and did not lose any of our breakables. But it was hard on the body. After a short swim, we were ready for bed around right after sundown.

CANOUAN

I like Canouan. First of all, the water of Charlestown Bay is pristine, unlike all the other islands, despite the small town overlooking it. We anchor off of Tamarind Hotel and use their services, like the dingy dock and the  restaurant. Their food is good, but  prices astronomical. We like their breakfast, which is good value, and the service is impeccable.

Most important feature of Canouan is the Customs facility, so that the Union Island hellhole can be avoided.

On Saturday morning around 8:00 am we weighed anchor and furled out the sails from Tyrrell Bay. I prefer going around the west side of Union, which is very close to Carriacou. Getting there was easy, we pointed a little east of north, and passed the channel in no time. Once we were in the lee of the Union, Al started the engines, an we motor sailed to the north west corner.

Canouan is to the northeast of Union, but on the way, to the east Mayreau is located. Further down to its southeast is the notorious Tobaggo Cays, a dangerous pool of reefs and rocks. To the west of Mayreau, almost at its entrance to Salt Whistle Bay, there are the Catholic Islands. When I read Doyle this time to check the route to Canouan, I saw that he recommends passing from the east of Catholic Islands. So, we decided to do what he says, although Al was complaining that west of the Catholics was a more direct route, however, one has to turn east to get to Canouan afterwards.

After Union Island, we pointed towards the Catholic Islands, but the sails became a burden, since the wind was on our nose. Wouldn't you know it, providence is always against us. Winds always come from the direction that we want to go, so this time it was northeast. Since we were not in a hurry, we did what any other sailor would do, we tacked, pointing towards the south corner of Mayreau, and turned when we were almost touching, in order to safely pass the rock formations  of the Catholics. I cursed Doyle until we passed them, which took an inordinate length of time. However, right after, the direction towards Canouan became much more favorable, since it is to the northwest of Mayreau. After dilly-dallying for a while, we gained momentum and reached Canouan by sail.

The sun was shining, the waves not too high, winds steady; all in all it was a good short ride of about 4 hours.

We anchored in front of Tamarind Hotel and got ready to get to shore. When I looked, I located the high dock to tie the dinghy, so we got there. Al was complaining that he did not remember the dock being so high, but I reached up, and tied the painter with a bit of difficulty. After that, getting onto the dock was a bit treacherous, many of the board being loose at the top, and the horizontal boards at the side to act as a ladder being too high and slippery. Anyway, we climbed up, while I congratulated myself for being quite agile thanks to my fitness training during summer. However, walking on the dock was a problem, there were many missing and loose boards. I walked from dead centre, following the extra beam in the middle. I could not believe the disrepair at such a posh resort, but we reached the shore safely, and did our business at the customs.

In the morning while retrieving the anchor, I realized that there was another dock a little further up, which was the one we had used the last time, which leads to the restaurant. The one we tackled was for the dive shop. It appears that we had anchored too close to the ferry dock, and did not see the dinghy dock blending into the landscape. Oh well.