Caribbean Sea Crossing

Finishing Cuba and heading back into the wind to DR, which we sneaked out of  (never checked out with immigration and customs) as we couldn’t stand anymore extortion, and on to Puerto Rico for a rest up at Gilligans Island. Off then to Vieques where we spent some time partying and visiting the bio-fluoresent lakes. A great sail and kingfish gudgeons lunch onto St Croix listening to old flashback 70’s music station to pick up crew for the Caribbean Sea crossing south to Bonaire, and then to haul out at Curacao while we headed back to Aus.

Steve, our crew for the crossing, we met in St Maarten a few months prior, was lined up and our dates set for the crossing as a return flight from Curacao was booked.  Steve arrived a couple of days prior to intended departure for a drive around St Croix, with the obligatory visit to the Cruzan Rum factory on the ‘don’t hurry island’…..island time again. It is said you don’t get a hangover with Cruzan Rum due to the amount of filtering during distillation, which I think we agree with.

 

Boat provisioned, a few bottles of Cruzan bought, pick up the anchor and off we go. Steve made the first meal, turkey chilli, which was great and lasted well throughout the crossing. Steve had been on plenty of boats before, though not many sailing, and we were leaving on the back of a front that moved through to ensure we got some wind heading south.

 We only just left the shores of St Croix and after the meal was made Steve needed to put his head down. He soon recovered to pull in a great Dorado!...and later to have huge one ‘get away’! Steve put up a good fight and at times I wasn’t sure who was going to land who, but the line gave way and both fighters returned to their corners.  It was a steady crossing with the occasional squall, which always seem to come through while I am downstairs and remaining so in the dry. I did hand up a dry towel!

 

 

Our entry to Bonaire was spectacular with us rounding the island to find a great storm cell with lightning engrossing a tanker not too far in the distance. Reduce sails and engine on, we needed to get in before this hit us. There was not a lot to worry about as we rounded the next point and heading straight for the marina. Following every crossing a marina for a day or two is a blessing; comfort and safety, no anchor, no dinghy, easy access to refreshments and plenty of local information. We packed up and washed the boat, cleaned the fridge, and settled in for a nice big breakfast with the obligatory spicy Bloody Mary with clamato juice, mixed by Steve the New Yorker.

We stopped in Bonaire for a few days to have a look around, amazing clear blue water and being a protected zone plenty of sea life right at the shore and around the mooring. We found some nice steak and Steve’s culinary skills came to the fore again with a pepper pistachio (left over from the 2kg bag from New York) crusted steak done on the bbq.

It was sad to leave Bonaire as we had to get Steve to Curacao for his flight. Marion and I have vowed to come back for some diving as soon as we return from Aus. The trip to Curacao was a pleasant day sail into Spanish Water which is a wonderful anchorage. Marion checked us in with the authorities, Steve packed his bags, and I rested due to an injury (yes John, those damn canvas clips ripped open my foot!)

 

Another crossing, taking in three nights, generator and main engine impeller replacements, occasional squalls (I don’t really see the big deal in a little rain) enough fish….and the one that got away! Our crew and new friend, Steve, was great who was on hand at all times and had great boat etiquette cleaning regularly and being proactive with meals.

Mark and Marion went to Cuba Part II

What do you do when you are under boat arrest (if you haven’t read Cuba Part I you might want to do so now). 

Havana Taxi

Well  you eat up your stores, drink rum and watch movies.  Fortunately the only contact we were allowed was with a couple of local fishermen who brought out ice every other day, so at least there was ice for the Cuba libra’s.  We also discovered a film called Fidel! In our digital collection.  We had started watching it at the marina but it was heavy going and I had fallen asleep.  Watching it for the second time after experiencing a bit of Cuba we were both gripped and fascinated by his life story.

Our boat arrest happened thanks to bad weather which forced us into Maniti to shelter and we hadn’t realised just how restrictive the authorities would be.  Before we left the marina for our sail along the coast of Cuba, the Guarda had said we could only anchor at most of the locations on our list of places we wanted to visit.  No problem we thought not realising he meant not even get off the boat.

It seems that they are only allowing people ashore at designated marinas which are few and far between.  We still can’t make up our minds if this policy is because a) if you are not at a marina you aren’t spending Cuban dollars, b)they don’t want you seeing the poverty in some of the more remote parts of the island or c)they are terrified if you leave the boat someone will steal it and sail off.

Once the weather finally cleared and we were able to leave Maniti we reverted to plan B.  Go back to the marina, hire a car to tour the island, spend some time in Havana and fly back to Holguin the nearest airport to the marina.  The arrangements were made incredibly  quickly.  The car was available that afternoon, the flight booked and our accommodation at a convent in Havana confirmed.   The show was back on the road. 

Picking up the car we were shown how to remove the aerial and windscreen wipers (car parts are in very short supply). Then we headed off for a drive ending up at a little town nearby , St Lucia, where we found a typical Cuban bar.  A concrete slab with a roof and waist high railings around the outside and a few tables and chairs served from a kiosk.  They provided disposable plastic glasses which they filled from a beer pump or you could bring your own gallon plastic water bottle.  The few Spanish words we knew were enough to  allow some basic communication – it was all that was needed for a very pleasant early evening drink.  This was more like it. 

The next day we left the boat early and headed for Holgin to pick up our airline tickets.  The place was full of people.  I was reminded of China.  Can’t put my finger on it.  Was it the soviet influenced architecture, the queues to get into shops or restaurants or just the sheer number of people milling around in the middle of the day.

Our car journey took us to Las Tunas where a lunch time walk took us past a park where a 12 piece Cuban trovo band were practicing.  Probably some of the best music we heard in our time in Cuba.  Then on to Camaguay where we stayed in our first Casa Particular – an individually owned/run b&b that you find all over Cuba.  The lady owner was pretty upset we didn’t want dinner as well but we had decided to eat out.  Shame,  she was a great cook.  She also insisted that we learn Spanish before we come back again as she wanted to speak to us directly – rather than through her daughter.

At the tiny restaurant we went to, we were the only diners – virtually sitting in their kitchen.  Our host was hilarious.  So keen to please.  He couldn’t believe his luck when a student with a guitar stopped in for a coffee.  He immediately pressed him to work – singing and playing for us.  Turned out the student was a medical student from Argentina who spoke English.  The evening was rounded off at the Casa de la Trova, with Cuban music and dancing.  Perfect evening.

Most cars in Cuba are owned by the state and are obliged to stop and pick up people hitching along the mostly deserted roads.  Sometimes this is organised by the local police who have clipboards to manage the large numbers of people waiting.  Although we didn’t have to stop we soon got into the routine and gave lifts to around 20 people each day.  No sooner was one out than another hopped in.  Since they could have been picked up by a truck where they would have to stand in the back, they couldn’t believe their luck.  Most were very quiet but some were extremely  chatty – not easy when we only had about 40 Spanish words between us.

Sighting of another car

Local taxi

Local bus

One chatty duo helpfully showed us where we could eat when we stopped for lunch one day.  It was a state run restaurant – Chinese for some reason.   The place was filthy and the food greasy and cloying.  Still it gave us a reference point for what some locals get to eat.  I’m still finding it hard to enjoy Chinese food.  We were charged in convertible pesos which are 25 times as much as local pesos.  They have worked out how to milk the tourists very well.

Our cross country car trip took us to Trinidad where we bought an unusual Che painting from a local artist, then across the mountains to Santa Clara for more Che spotting.  Santa Clara is where there is a huge memorial and where his body was interned after it was found in Bolivia.  The town is also the site of a major battle between 20 revolutionaries and 480 Batista troops.  The revolutionaries managed to ambush the train the troops were on and their defeat lead to Batista fleeing the country.  The revolutionaries marched on to Havana to take control of the country.

I told you we got into that movie!  We probably know more about Cuban history than is healthy.  It was bizarre to be visiting all the places where the events took place.  All washed down with a 3 hour trip to the Museum of the Revolution in Havana.  Historian tho I am, Mark was having to drag me around for the last hour as he rushed into rooms and took pictures of chairs Churchill had sat in or bullet holes from attacks on the building.

After the provincial towns we had visited and the family casa particulars we had stayed in, we weren’t prepared for the great Habana.  Vast avenues of crumbling colonial splendour took us into the old city where we were staying.  Our hitch hikers had abandoned us so we were left to find the convent where we staying on our own.  As it’s a warren of one way streets we provided much amusement to the locals sitting in doorways as we came round for a second or third time going the wrong way up a street.

Convent garden

The convent is no longer working (much to Mark’s disappointment – he was hoping to see novices in their nighties...) But it was a real haven for us.  A basic room (a bit Greek) looking into the convent which had a lovely garden courtyard surrounded by colonnades.  Worryingly our guide book suggested avoiding the area around the convent after dark.  We were in a pretty poor area, but soon got to know some of the locals, buying bread at the bakery and drinking beer in the local bars. 

A couple of blocks away from the convent we were back in Disney.  That’s a bit unfair but the contrast was stark.  UNESCO reclaimed squares, western bars, restaurants, trovo bands on every corner, 5 star hotels, tour buses, the entire tourist smorgasbord.  It was fascinating to see and we did indulge - doing the museums, galleries, cigar factory, restaurants and bars but it could have been anywhere – well maybe not.

Havana Pint

So we left Cuba feeling very confused – and we still are.  We keep being asked what was it like.  Confusing and full of contrasts.  From the shack we saw housing a family in Manati to the grand villas in Havana.  From the shy people falling asleep in the back of the car to the brash touts trying to fleece you in the tourist centres.  From the feeling that we were walking dollars to the genuine interest shown in us in the more rural areas.

The people of Cuba are equally confused.  They are furious that some people have to live in awful conditions (stables one chap called them).  They have espoused the idea of equality and this is not right in their eyes.  Although you will see people throughout the world living in similar ‘stables’, Cubans are appalled that their fellow countrymen have to.  They also are indignant that Fidel (although they never mention him) has squandered their agricultural wealth and that they have been left with a decrepit legacy of Russian infrastructure.  Will Raoul do better?  – he seems to be opening up the country to tourism.  In fact Jimmy Carter was there to discuss access for US citizens during our stay.

We are glad we went but it just wasn’t worth taking the boat we might as well have flown from the Dominican Republic, which was an option we had considered.  It didn’t help that we only had 4 weeks to spend there and the sailing weather wasn’t kind to us.  It seems on the north coast it’s difficult /impossible to do any coast hopping cruising but it may be different on the south coast.  If we did it again we would also spend more time in the more rural east and less in Havana and the tourist destinations like Trinidad.

The ultimate irony we felt was the flagrant tourist consumerism especially in Havana which is what Fidel originally set out to get rid of with the Revolution.  Plus ca change...  Vive La Revolution!























Mark and Marion went to Cuba

Since the turn of the year Cuba has shaped pretty much everything we have done. Sitting by the startling blue water of Barbuda we formulated a plan to spend the hurricane season in Curacao in the Southern Caribbean and delay our trip through the Panama Canal until 2012. Our route was to be Barbuda west to Cuba then back again towards Barbuda before heading south to Curacao.

Going west here is relatively easy because of the prevailing trade winds blowing from the east, sailing back east is altogether tougher and slower. However, the books we had read all recommended sailing back through the islands rather than crossing the Caribbean sea direct to Curacao as you get some shelter from the land and the option to pull in for a rest if it all gets too much.

To get to Curacao before the hurricane season starts we have a programme – no guessing who’s idea that was. The programme allowed for some time in St Martin to get work done on the boat plus a week in the Virgin Islands which we hadn’t visited yet. Otherwise we had to push on to Cuba with as little time spent en route as possible to give us more time for the more difficult passage back.

St Martin was a great 3 weeks, catching up with loads of people we had met on other islands including a wild Australia Day party at the Isle de Sol Yacht Club with all the’ super yachties’. We also met quite a few people who had been to Cuba and apart from one aussie who hated the place, everyone was raving about it. Pristine waters, huge lobsters, fabulous people and a chance to see a completely different way of life.

Getting information about the place was not easy, but we managed to get a pilot book and someone lent us his paper charts to copy. The aussie who had hated the place also gave us all his flags as he was never going back. We were scouring book swaps and internet sites downloading whatever we could.

The route also takes in the infamous Mona Passage and the Windward Passage. I’d first heard about the Mona in Spain two years ago when we met a couple who had had a dreadful time getting across. So when we rounded Cape Rojo on the south of Puerto Rico it was a with a degree of awe we both stared across the MONA. In the end we hit a perfect weather window, light winds, calm seas and we set off with another boat Glass Slipper ahead of us. Conditions were so good we arranged to take pictures of each other on the way over – we even got the spinnaker up.

This was also the first night passage we had done with just the two of us on board. Mark was breaking me in gently as we would eventually have to do a two day and six hour sail across the Windward Passage. Guidance on sailing along this north part of the Caribbean is given by a chap called Bruce Van Sant (no aussie connection) who is very prescriptive about where you should sail at what time, etc which we found difficult to follow. But we had taken his advice on the Mona and on our way along the north coast of the Dominican Republic we took a route he suggested into a bay rather than straight across between the two headlands and went a lot more quickly than Glass Slipper. We were beginning to think there may be something to his ‘prescription’.

Along the route we had been preparing for our stay in Cuba. We had been warned to take any food we wanted. To treat it as an ocean passage and provision accordingly. We also spent a huge amount of time trying to buy a SSB radio which could pick up weather forecasts as we wouldn’t have access to the internet. We tried to buy one in St Martin but they had sold out, then St Thomas where both Radioshacks had boxes on the shelf but no radio inside... and finally we rented a car in Puerto Rico to drive to San Juan where we found one plus the cabling for an external aerial which Mark still hasn’t fathomed out how to use.

We also bought little ‘gifts’ to thank people who might help us in Cuba. Bars of soap, small bottles of rum and fish hooks. Mark was a bit dubious about the soap which might be taken the wrong way and I thought the rum was like the proverbial coals. Mark also made a lobster catcher from a broom handle and bbq skewers.

All and all we felt as prepared as we could be. I was very nervous of the long sail alone and Mark was worried about the officialdom having had his fill of the dodgy Commandancia in the Dominican Republic who were expert in demanding ‘gifts’ for despatcho - the clearance document you need to go to the next port.

On our final night before leaving for Cuba we had arranged and ‘paid’ for our despatcho to leave at 10pm only to be boarded by the guarda at 8pm and told we could not leave that night. Mark was taken off to shore and the despatcho confiscated whilst I worried myself stupid over why he was gone for over 2 hours. In the end the despatcho was reissued the next day with no explanation. We had lost a valuable day in our programme not to mention what the whole sorry saga had done to my fraying nerves.

In Luperon before setting off for Cuba we asked on the cruiser’s net if anyone had been to Cuba and any advice they might have on getting across the Windward Passage. A couple of boats contacted us and Mark put one on hold whilst we chatted to the other. The second boat then started to give us some useful passage information but it was a while before we realised we were talking to ‘Bruce’ the prescription man himself.

The crossing to Cuba (Kooba) as we now call it was long but uneventful. We were pretty pleased to finally pull into Puerto Vita on our 3rd day and be met at the entrance to the bay by a small motor boat to show us the channel. It was 4pm and once the doctor had given us a clean bill of health, we were allowed onto the marina dock after we had swallowed the 3 antibiotic pills he had given us. At least he told us they were antibiotics to ensure we didn’t bring Cholera in from the Dominican Republic!

Once alongside, the harbour master, customs, immigration and the man from the agricultural department boarded. They sat around the saloon table with forms being filled in and lots of chat in Spanish. Our rudimentary Spanish was failing us miserably but with the help of the forms Mark had prepared and the dictionary, all the formalities were done in an hour. We had heard stories of it taking 5 hours. We suspect arriving at 4pm on a Saturday probably speeded up the process. The man from the ag took away a sample of mint from my little herb garden. Not sure if it was for inspection or a cutting for his garden.

So here we were in Kooba free to go ashore. We were so knackered we could only find the energy to walk along the dockside to stretch our legs. Chatting to one of the other boats we discovered the marina had an ice machine at the end of the pontoon. Ice has to be bought and shipped out to the boat in most Caribbean places, so this was a real luxury – gin and tonics all round! Until we discovered we had loads of soft drinks but only one tonic on board. Hey ho.

The following day we got a taxi to Guadalavaca about 10 miles away to change money. It felt like arriving at a film set. Not a quaint Cuban town but Disney. The town is dominated by huge hotels packed with Canadians with a smattering of Europeans. Club Med on speed or maybe Prozac. The guests were hilarious caricatures of everyone you’d like to avoid on holiday. We were glad to get back to the marina in another taxi – a 50’s Chevrolet driven by a James Dean fan.

As we had a programme to keep to we headed off to the Cays the next day to make the most of our time in Cuba. Mark was keen to press on west to give us more time to sail back at a more leisurely pace. The first night at Manati a lovely sheltered estuary, the second at Confites a small island in the vast reef that fringes the north coast was more exposed and blowy and the third off Punta Coco where we anchored behind the reef itself was both blowy and rolly. But we had reached our destination – the farthest west we planned to come – and we celebrated with a delicious fish curry made with the dorada Mark had caught the day before.

The weather report the next morning was not good. The winds we were experiencing were building. None of the anchorages in the Cays were very sheltered or good holding. Our plans to snorkel in these pristine waters (now very obscured by the choppy waves), eat enormous lobsters (caught with the converted broom handle) and explore the sandy beaches were evaporating. Could we really have come this far for nothing.

We headed back east. This time we were having to tack every couple of miles to hold our course. No longer the easy downwind sailing. Poor Zenna was being slammed into the waves but as always she doggedly carved through. After 27 hours we arrived back at Manati to find the Guarda Frontera somewhat surprised to see us again so soon. When we explained that we had come to shelter from the weather, the Capitain had to get special permission for us to stay longer than one day. Manati is a fishing village and we were looking forward to exploring ashore the next day. No sooner had we docked our dinghy than the Capitain approached us asking us what we were doing. We weren’t allowed ashore.

So we have been sitting on the boat for 3 days waiting for the weather to clear. We had consoled ourselves on leaving the Cays that at least we would get to see a little fishing port but it seems even that is not possible. We could just have sat on the boat in Barbuda not to mention the two months preparation and journey to Kooba. To be continued...

Mona Passage

Well, here we are at 0425 hours on the morning of the 3/3/11 after just making a passage across one of the most treacherous stretches of water in the world, the Mona Passage. It is here that the Atlantic waters and Caribbean waters meet head on, and coupled with shoals where the bottom of the ocean goes from 1000m to 300m quite abruptly, lends to some very heavy steep seas. We had a great crossing, picked a good weather window, and had John and Cindy from Glass Slipper join us as a ‘buddy boat’. We motored out of the bay in Puerto Rico and into Mona for about 4 hours before the wind was strong enough to put some sails up. John and Cindy were in front having put more power in with the motor, but now it is our turn. You know how it goes, two sailboats, on an ocean, in sight of one another......its a race. We soon caught up with them, and had arranged the previous night for a photo shoot. As you would have it the wind died just as we got to them! Never mind, out comes the cruising chute....yeah, that’s right, the big yellow thing. Wow, off we went, setting sails, taking photos, Marion trying to keep control of the boat, it was all happening. We made good progress and soon lost Glass Slipper but pulled down the chute before dinner to set the boat up for night sailing. You never know what to expect at night so we always err on the cautious side. As it turned out the wind died a bit, till we were flogging the sails at 0300 hours this morning. Marion was on watch trying to settle them down to no avail, but as we only had up to 8 knots of wind it was a losing battle. So out of the cot i got, down came the sails, on went the engine, put Marion to bed, and set up the radar! I hope it works, i can’t see a thing outside so i might as well be in here doing this. It also helps me keep asleep oops, awake! I don’t want Marion to wake up to find us tearing along with me catching a few zzzeds. Engine on is good, charging the batteries and allowing all nav gear to be on, hence the radar. We are due to arrive at Samana in Dominican Republic in about 4 hours. Clearing in here, we are told, is not straight forward......they ask for gifts (we call them bribes). We’ll see how we go. Heading to Cuba, westwards, which is nearly all downwind. Nice easy sailing! Coming back.......seems we have to do a lot of night travel to miss the strong tradewinds during the day that will be against us, and close to shore so as not to get into the equatorial current. Sounds like we are going to need a lot of good weather windows even for the night hops!!! It is recommended we should be anchored by 0800 hours every morning before the winds pick up......not sure how the Mona will do! No stops there! Must go, better check outside just in case there is a boat, or ship, not showing up on the radar. Hopefully i can see their lights. Can’t see Glass Slipper anymore, saw them sneak by about 5 hours ago! PBN: Our trip into Samana, way down in the bay which took a good couple of hours was spent watching whales. Yep, about 1200 of them visit the bay for breeding. We saw lots of blows, and whales breaking the surface though some distance off. This was bettered by our departure from Samana whereby we were pooting along, as there wasn’t much wind, having lunch looking towards shore about 300m off, and a whale breaks the surface about 50m from the boat. Wow, it was huge! He/she finally went under Zenna and headed off. We guessed he had been following us for a while. What a day, you never know out here what is going to happen.

CAPTAINS CORNER (A brief account of general observations!)

“DON’T STOP THE CARNIVAL”

‘Don’t Stop the Carnival’.....is a novel I am reading at present, by Herman Wouk. Well, what an author, not only does he write well (having claimed a Pulitzer Prize) but he also understands his topic. Reading it has now made life easier for me living in the Caribbean. For example, our recent visit to French Guadeloupe involved hiring a car which we had to fill up the tank to halfway upon return. So, stopping at the local servo I asked for ‘dix euro s’il vous plait’ ($10). He seemed to be taking a while and when I saw he was at $20 I yelled to stop. He came over to the window and I said that is enough it is more than I asked for; he went back and started putting more into the tank! Again I yelled, he stopped, and went and got the manager. Hell, this kicked it all off. I told the manager I asked for $10. The manager, while laughing, said the attendant doesn’t speak English and probably misunderstood me. I explained, calmly while Marion held onto my arm, that I hadn’t spoken English and asked for ‘dix euro’. I said that was all I was paying. The manager, still laughing at my angst, said, ‘but the fuel is in the car you must pay.’ Marion did very well at this point and explained to me that our lunch had gone well and we should cut our losses as a talk with the local constabulary may not be appropriate right now, we had to get the car back to catch the last ferry home. I gave the manager the cash and sped off back onto the motorway, cursing all the while, watching the manager through the rear view mirror laughing.
The culture is surely different out here, particularly when working in GMT (Grenada Maybe Time) if you want anything done, but that is another story.
So, it is now the 27th of December and we have just arrived in Deshaises, Guadeloupe, our last stop before Antigua. The weather was good, and we had to do a bit of motoring to get here in time to check in at Customs, again. We were to be here yesterday but doing an engine check I found the engine room bilge full of water. Yes, the infamous generator had sprung a water leak from the seal in the Johnson water pump. Aside from now not having a generator and us having to B-line it to Antigua to see if we can get parts, last week I found the engine room bilge full of diesel! Yes, I had to pump it out, mop it out, tighten up the injectors and the return lines to the main engine (I think the latter were the culprits). Oh, but it doesn’t stop there. The week previous to the previous one, I kept hearing the shower pump making a funny noise....I should have known better. Yes, the diaphragm was ripped causing all our shower water complete with scum to be deposited.yes, into the engine room bilge. By the way, I would much prefer to clean up diesel in the bilge than shower water. Life is not ‘plain sailing’ out here in the Caribbean. Oh yeah, besides the engine room bilge, we only have one of the fridges working at the moment, along with one of our heads working, and only one of our showers.
Bequia, one of our favourite islands, is a ‘lovely’ little haunt for us just south of St Vincent and is part of the Grenadine group of islands. A neighbouring island is Mustique! The likes of Bowie, Tommy Hilfiger, and Mick Jagger live there. Marion and I met and helped Chris Jagger kick his guitar up the road at Bequia after one Blues fest!....another story. But Bequia, yes lovely, very local in the main part of town, but also very touristy due to the umpteen number of cruise boats that stop out in the bay. Marion and I love getting off the tourist routes and exploring the unexplored. Bequia has an alternative community living in the moon caves (please Google to find out more), so we thought it would be good to venture to the other side of the island. And it was on the advice of John Lawrence (Lawrence so called due to his uncanny look alike of Lawrence of Arabia). “Go to Pageant Farm”, he said. So we did. Well, I have been to many places on this earth but I have to say that this is the most messed up lot of people you could come across. To try and draw a picture; imagine you have a load of degenerate people, you know, the kind of deros that you see in the street every day. Now, add some very very strong rum, the kind that actually says on the bottle ‘Very Strong Rum’, if it manages to have a label. Imagine them drinking this faster than you can drink a beer. Oh yeah, we ended up in a bar in Pageant Farm and this is where this story is all coming from, we only stopped for one beer and got the hell out, thought it was like a Rocky Horror Picture Show, as one of the locals said; “just call me zipper, zipper”. And he was the most sensible one! Another came in and banged the table at someone so the lady owner asked him to leave. This went on for about five minutes with his one eye and scruffy look on one knee begging her to let him stay. I saw that she motioned to us at one point, which I am not sure she should have done, and next minute he was on one knee kissing our hands and feet pleading apologies. So....., we’re up to a degenerate you know of in the street, who has drunk a lot of very strong rum, for quite a few years. Now, think of this person as also being inbred! Yep, all jokes aside, I am being fair dinkum. You could actually tell. Well we were glad to get the hell out of there and we now call it Funny Farm not Pageant Farm. John Lawrence laughed when we told him all about it! One thing has to be said however, the best lobsters I have ever seen in my life were in the fishing boats at Pageant Farm......DON’T EAT THE LOBSTERS?!
The people in the Caribbean are on the whole very intelligent and smart people. Just on a different time zone. As one local said to us recently while he was working on our refrigeration system; “I must go home for lunch and sleep”. Upon discussing this further he clarified that his best work was done while he was resting..Thinking on the problem, you know, when you wake up and go....ahh! That’s how you fix it. I took his tools back to him after lunch and told him we would sort it all out later. He was calm about this, we had given him £100 the day before for his work, and I found him nearing the end of his splif. As one Brit who owned an engine repair business on Bequia said, “ they are all experts.....just ask them”. How true!
Food! Ah.... yes....anyone that knows us knows we like our food, and the variety in the Caribbean is amazing. From the fresh Dorado or Barracuda we catch off the back of the boat to the fried chicken the locals cook with herbs and spices better than the Colonels! But it is the food on board that really counts. All the stories you have read about regarding food at sea is true. You know the tales, pounding into the seas for a good 20 hours and all anyone can do in a short space of time is to make a tinned ham sandwich. It tastes absolutely fantastic at 2000hrs and it can’t be beat. Someone who is not feeling well has managed to cobble it together because no-one else can, and thanks are given all around...till the morning! In true daylight, which is always better than the LED’s we have, we notice a rather green/ grey furriness to the bread. Yep, you guessed it, but no grudges are held as it tasted great in the dark of night! It doesn’t kill you. But then we get back to the boat from the UK after 3 weeks and it is great to be back on the boat. We awaken to a great muesli breakfast in one of our favourite marinas, only for me to say at the end of the bowl that I don’t remember the black floaty things in the pack. Further inspection in the muesli container reveals a load of weevils happily squirming about. My stomach now feels them and I have this feeling for the rest of the day! Not happy! There is a saying out here though, “if you see it in the shop, buy it”. Well it is true. Only yesterday Marion went ashore for last minute provisioning, that we had seen the night before, and all the lemons we were amazed to see in the store were gone. Upon asking where the lemons were the cashier said a guy came and bought the whole box last night! Bugger! And then you get the official to the marine park coming to collect our fees. I notice that he has some fresh fish in his bow and enquire whether you are allowed to fish in the marine park to which he says, “No, it’s a marine park” and proceeds to leave us with five fresh sprat mackerel for lunch. We do have some wonderful meals, just never expected. Down to fresh lobster at great prices and imported US prime beef, to great French cheeses and baguettes. Many a video night and the occasional Rose lunch have been had.
In fact all is becoming clear on why we are here and how nice it is. It was only last night that Marion said, “I finally realised something today. I am here with my gorgeous husband, on my yacht, in the Caribbean, having a great time”. Wow, it has been a hard slog but I do believe we are finally getting to what all this cruising is about, it has been nearly 2 years. I am not saying there is no work to do, but I am saying you do need to take stock and take time out. Life is short, and if you don’t make of it what you can when you can, then...... .
“What do you do all day?”, seems to be the question on everyone’s lips back home. Oh, I don’t know...deal with Hurricane Tomas, try to understand what job on the boat has priority. And then there’s getting the job done. You know me, something needs doing then get on and get it done. I’m not sure people in the Caribbean have met people like me before..(Oh yes they have, they just treat me like that guy at the servo in Guadeloupe...Ahhhhhh!) So, I have spent many a day getting that one job done, you know, the one that needs just that certain size of pipe or connector. Only to find, after catching various local buses, visiting every hardware and chandlers on the island, that there isn’t one. Oh, but I have the old one, you must have one the same size................oh no we don’t sir! Is the reply. So, I arrive back at the boat wondering what to tell Marion. “So is it fixed yet”, says she, yes the cats mother at this stage, I am in no mood. It is summer and never mind the heat, try sitting on a kettle with the steam going up your backside for ten minutes and tell me how it feels. Anyway, Marion needs an answer, the best thing to do is get a beer out or the fridge, if it is working and there is beer in there...which means it is the weekend. If it is during the week, then Marion gets stonewalled. You know how it is, have you tried explaining something you don’t really know about to someone that knows nothing about it and have absolutely nothing to show for it, or any idea if there is anything that can be done about it! Don’t Stop the Carnival, you must read it.
This leads me onto crew. Always a discussion point among cruisers as long passages can sometimes be made easier with crew; paid, paying, or friends. Success of temporary crew is dependent on many factors, and that as I say is another story. And then there is permanent crew....Marion (sometimes called owner). At the moment, Sunday morning of the 9th Jan anchored at Green Island Antigua the crew has prepared a wonderful breakfast served in the owner’s cabin of fresh fruit and yoghurt with a poached egg to follow and a cup of tea. This is crew behaving at their best! Then there is the other side. No matter what dock we end up on getting water, fuel , or berthing for the night, there is always some local declaring undying love to my gorgeous crew. It is nothing in the Caribbean for men to call any woman a gorgeous lovely lady! There was a time in Prickly Bay Grenada when we use to go to the marina for water every two weeks. The marina also had a great Tiki Bar which on a Friday night had a great sunset, bbq, and band, which we frequented many times, and the best Rum punch in the Caribbean. On one occasion when we were leaving by dinghy I took off my thongs (flipflops) to get into the dinghy, as you do, and decided to leave them on the dock. They were well passed their use by date. Oh, back to the crew story. This marina had a great dock master, a young lad, who found it hard to talk to me but when I went to pay for the water he made all the efforts he could on my crew, and straight up! So we turned up to get water one time, and while the tanks were filling I noticed something different about him. I waited till the crew came downstairs to let them know. I said, “ If that dock master wants to fill my shoes he must do more than wear them”. Yep, he was actually wearing my thongs I had left on the dock.
But you know what....”Don’t Stop the Carnival!”. The carnival at Grenada was great, and you know, besides all the work on the boat, dealing with the Caribbean culture, getting use to a different way of living...with someone 24/7, we are doing something! It might be bloody hard work physically, mentally, and emotionally. Everything is new, where is the shop, where do we get parts (what parts do we need, you never know till something breaks) what will the weather be, is the tide in our favour, will our anchor hold, who will we meet, what book have we not read yet! It is not easy, but life never is! Don’t Stop the Carnival!
Looking forward to seeing you on Zenna, and our further adventures in 2011 and into the Pacific.

Aghh! And that will be all you scrubbers!

Signed
Captain and Owner Mark!

Hurricane Tomas - Mayreau

Arthur's house, Red Cross team with backpacks, Zenna in Windward Bay with reefs in background, Annie's pasta, Mark with some of Zenna's rescuers.


Phew! Think we have missed the worst of it. Left Zenna at two am and have been in shelters since. Moved Zenna at midday today to windward side. Bit hairy. Seems you were spared.

That was the text I sent to other yachts we know in Grenada at around 6pm on Saturday 30th October. We had been on high alert since lunchtime the previous day. We were in the Tobago Keys with Karen and John who had joined us for a few days sailing. The boat boys were asking us what we had heard about the weather. The latest report we had seen had forecast winds of 20-25 possibly 30 kts. Some weather sites weren’t reporting any strong winds. The main hurricane site had a 10% possibility of a tropical depression off the coast of South America growing into a tropical storm. It was weather we had experienced in Grenada and felt comfortable staying where we were.

A text from James and Jodie started to change our thinking. There was to be a special bulletin from the Grenada Net’s weather reporter Jonathan at four thirty pm. In all our time in Grenada there had never been a special bulletin. There were also dark clouds emerging from the east. The Keys no longer looked so attractive and we made our way to the nearest island of Mayreau. Choosing to anchor in Saline Bay rather than the more picturesque Saltwhistle Bay as it was more protected from the north and east.

We managed to get internet connection and started studying the weather sites, in particular NOA the US hurricane centre site. The 10% depression was now confirmed as tropical storm Tomas with winds of up to 75 kts. We started packing the boat up to reduce the windage making it less likely for us to drag anchor if the winds hit us. We shouted to a charter boat nearby who were oblivious that the storm warning had been put out. Other boats were also preparing themselves for some heavy weather. We all agreed to listen to channel 69 to communicate if needs be. Then we settled down to have pork with figs with potatoes and veggies and a nice bottle of French white.

We decided we needed to have a watch system during the night to keep an eye on the weather and the boat. John volunteered for the first watch at 10 – 12. Mark and Karen went off to sleep but I couldn’t and ended up reading my book for the next 2 hours. Coming out to check the weather at midnight I was presented with the horrifying news that Tropical Storm Tomas was now growing in strength and there was a hurricane warning for our island and those to the north and south as well. I was pretty anxious as it was, now my head was spinning. We had always said we would get off the boat if there was a hurricane, that was part of our hurricane plan. Unfortunately the hurricane plan also involved being tied up in the mangroves secured to trees and with multiple anchors out. There were no mangroves on Mayreau nor any of the adjoining islands and we felt it would be foolhardy to try to sail further south to where there were mangroves with a hurricane on the way.

I went in to wake up Mark. He groggily acknowledged what I was saying about getting off the boat but didn’t respond. Finally he came out of the cabin saying ‘Your right, we said we’d get off in a hurricane’. Karen and John took the news that we were going ashore in their stride and packed up their overnight bags. Meanwhile Mark and I started a major strip down of the boat and assembling all our valuables to take with us. I had a list for the hurricane grab bag which was a lot more useful than I expected and also meant we managed to eat quite well over the next couple of days, feeding other yachties and the locals who shared the hurricane centre with us. Every time I put something in the bag and left something else out, I kept thinking will I ever see that again. All our things are on the boat, clothes, paperwork, linen, crockery, kitchenware, bikes, scuba gear, even our ski boots and clothes.

At 2am we were packed up and went ashore to find Karen minding everything that had been brought ashore. Apart from a deserted electricity substation the island was dark. The charter boat had an American couple Martin and Sarah on board and they had already been to the top of the island to find the only place to shelter was a church but, given the amount of glass windows, they decided it was not going to be safe. Instead we found Arthur who was to be our host and guide for the next few days. He had come out of his house to check the wind and he opened up his house to us and found covers to lay on the mattresses he had on 4 beds. It was a rudimentary house, breeze blocks and where there were no windows he had boards nailed across but his generosity was unequivocal that morning. We were now 8 having being joined by Annie and Bilou a French couple from Martinique and we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. Karen again had no problem sleeping and everyone dozed a bit but we were all pretty wired.

I was glued to the computer trying to see what was happening with the storm. The local radio was blaring out Barry Manilow and other crooners as Arthur tuned in to get the official bulletins being given out. At daylight around 6am we decided we should try to get into the local school which Arthur explained was the official hurricane centre. We were a sorry bunch walking up the hill with our belongings. Mark and I had as much as all the others together. Fortunately they were all carrying things for us. From the top of the hill you could see the boats. Poor Zenna looked very lonely.

The school was locked but it wasn’t long before the caretaker was found and the place opened. It was a solid building with metal louvre windows. It looked a perfect shelter. We opted to set up our camp in the smaller of the two rooms on the basis that hurricanes damage smaller rooms less than large ones. Mark had slept for 2 hours but I hadn’t slept at all. There was talk of looking for somewhere to have breakfast and we found the Combination Cafe where we had a perfect omelette with toast, banana bread and tea. It felt so normal but our nerves were anything but. Everyone we spoke to from the waitress in the cafe, to the Red Cross workers up at the shelter were shaking their heads over the location of our boats. A few years earlier a huge tidal wave had come into the bay we were anchored in. If the wind came from the west again, the same thing might happen.

Talk back at the shelter was all about where Tomas was going. The NOA site was showing it moving north, which would have taken it away from us. Then it stalled and continued west, heading directly for us. If it went north the wind on our island would come from the west. At 1030 there was a discussion using the primary school blackboard and it became clear that the boats had to be moved. Mark was the first to decide swiftly followed by the others. I was nervous, Tomas was only a few hours away. Should we really be moving Zenna in these conditions. The weather was pretty calm but how long before it blew up? My concerns lasted all the way down the hill, but evaporated when I saw the waves breaking in the bay. An hour later we were on the other side of the island in Windward Bay, surrounded by reefs but in a much calmer spot sheltered from the westerly wind. A couple of local guys, Skipper John, and a chap called Gladio, had helped us negotiate the reefs. I’m not sure where they came from but they hopped onto the boat to help us go around. .

There was much discussion about where to anchor. I was concerned we didn’t have enough anchor chain to anchor too deep. I was also worried about the length of time it was taking to anchor. Mark was deploying 2 anchors on the chain and they were not picking up too well. We normally spend a while making sure the anchor is well dug in. That didn’t happen this time. It was now midday and the hurricane might only be an hour away. Skipper John and Gladio were both wearing hard hats, I jokingly said to him he was ok but what about hard hats for us. As we dingyed ashore the sirens were blaring calling everyone to the shelter. We headed back up the hill at a pace to get back before it hit. Martin and Sarah were hard on our heels but there was no sign of Annie and Bilou. Perhaps they had decided to stay on their boat Zoot like the other two French catamarans in Windward Bay.

The shelter was now filled with families, young people and a small army of Red Cross officials wearing their NGO issued yellow macs, hard hats, wellingtons and bright red back packs filled with survival gear. The back packs were clearly the fashion statement of the moment. People milled around inside and out. When was the hurricane due to hit? The Prime Minister of St Vincent and the Grenadines had been on the radio earlier in the day and his message was constantly replayed, cautioning vigilance, praying we might be spared from the worst of the hurricane. The weather was still calm where we were, but the tension, heightened by our lack of sleep, was oppressive. When Annie and Bilou finally made it back to the shelter a huge cheer went up.

The afternoon wore on and still nothing. Then word came that the hurricane had passed between St Vincent and St Lucia about 50 miles to the north of us at about one in the afternoon. Huge relief all round tinged by some concern that some hurricanes turn back on themselves. A further bulletin was expected at five o’clock when we should get the all clear to leave the shelter. Crates of Hairoun beer were bought for the guys who had helped move the boats and we all joined in emptying the crates. I had crashed for about half an hour mid afternoon on a foam mat on the floor. It was enough to relax me a bit. I have never been so tense in all my life. I never worried about the safety of us all but I was terrified something would happen to Zenna. Must be the closest I will come to worrying about a child.

Beers lead to rum punches concocted by Mark. I had tucked a half bottle of Jack Iron and one of White Jack into his rucksack – just in case. Then Annie discovered a kitchen out the back of the school and a huge pan was brought from somewhere. She had bags of pasta and we had salami and tomatoes left over from lunch which formed the sauce. Karen and Sarah somehow managed to find two bottles of French red at the Combination Cafe. A veritable feast finished off with bars of chocolate and a rum night cap. Arthur joined us for dinner. Biscuits and chocolate were passed around the shelter. The all clear had still not been given, so we prepared to spend a second night on shore. Matresses were brought to the shelter. Most locals returned to their homes apart from two young families who obviously felt more comfortable there than at home. We all collapsed early. Lack of sleep and the rum both playing their part.

There was a toilet block a few yards away from the school house. At 5am we awoke to hear the wind howling outside. A trip to the loo tore the door out of your hands. What was worse the wind had gone round to the east so all the yachts in Windward bay were now exposed. There was still another hour before daylight. Even if we walked over to the church to look down at the bay we wouldn’t see anything. We took comfort from the fact that the bay was surrounded by reefs which would break any swell coming in from the east. But the wind sounded fierce. We wondered if it was being accelerated up to the top of the hill. We dressed and were about to leave the school when there was frenzied knocking outside. A lady called Sarah was shouting, ‘there’s a yacht on the beach’. We rushed over to the church desperately hoping Zenna was ok. But no there she was hazardously close to the shore.

Mark says I lost it at that point. I only remember thinking we had to act fast. I said I was going to get Arthur and Mark went back to the school to get the keys to the dingy and Zenna. Sarah came with me. She was trying to rouse people to help on the way down. We got up Skipper John and a couple of Red Cross volunteers appeared. It all seemed to take an age. All the time we couldn’t see the boat and didn’t know whether she was still upright. Finally it was deemed there was enough of a team to stage a recovery. Mark went off with Skipper John and Sarah lead me along the beach to where Zenna sat on her keel pitching and rolling. By the time we arrived there were already two men on board and Mark and John were close by in the dingy. Zenna was so close two volunteers tried to walk out to her only to disappear in the surf. Her draught is 2.2 meters and we were lucky that the beach she had dragged onto was really steep and the surrounding reefs were keeping the swell low so the waves were relatively flat.

Nonetheless, even with the engine on full and a second anchor deployed she wasn’t budging. By now there were eight men on board and all were busy winching, pulling and grinding trying to pull her off. Eventually they decided to unfurl our huge genoa sail at the front on the boat. As it came out the ladies on the shore with me were gasping. When would you ever need a sail that big they wanted to know. The truth is we rarely get it all out as it overpowers the boat except in very light winds. The genoa strategy worked and the sail heeled the yacht over enough to lift her off the sand and the engine kicked in and drove her forward. It was a wonderful sight to see her back afloat again.

Now they had the challenge of re-anchoring her in building winds. Sarah and the ladies went back up the hill. Arthur, Martin the charterer, who had also come down the hill, and I sheltered in a fisherman’s hut. A huge gust hit the bay. The water went white with foam. We couldn’t see the yachts let alone see how they were coping with anchoring. Later I checked the descriptions for white water with foam and we reckon it must have been blowing 50-60kts. I don’t like to think what might have happened if Zenna had still been aground when that gust hit. Maybe it was a gust like that that dragged her anchor in the first place.

Karen and John were as relieved as we were to get back on board and put the whole episode behind us. They somehow managed to drag all our gear back down the hill. At 5pm we went for sundowners and dinner at the Combination Cafe with Martin and Sarah. Annie and Bilou’s funds didn’t run to eating out but they provided the nightcap, a vicious rum from Martinique, which Bilou made into Ti Punch. Bearly drinkable on its own but quite delicious with some peach juice added. Rum punch drinkers beware. It was a touching farewell the following day as we all went our own ways from Mayreau. We will always remember the selflessness of all the islanders. Sharing their houses and school and taking such good care of us and in the end rescuing Zenna so efficiently.

My text the previous day had been premature. Our hurricane experience had been tense but uneventful. Our drama came only after the hurricane passed. We were let off lightly. The only damage appears to be to her lead keel which has had all its 2 week-old antifouling paint removed and a small section of the rudder which has suffered similarly. I felt I had tempted fate with my text and then my insistence we get back to the hurricane shelter without bedding the anchor in properly. Mark lost no time in agreeing the whole thing was my fault...