More ugly weather!

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Another fine day in the Caribbean…

It was supposed to be a quick 10 day sail back to French Guiana but two weeks later I found myself still busy battling isolated thunderstorms and gradually being pushed toward southern Venezuela. Not my premiere choice of destinations given the number of sailors I’ve come across that have given it the thumbs down with respect to safety.

Feeling wet wet wet….

Just so that you know…. sometimes sailing isn’t that much fun!

Bouncing about like a cork for two weeks is one of those times…

Although squalls in the Caribbean had been forecast (they’re always forecast), who’d have imagined that isolated thunderstorms was a synonym for “focused entirely on Eileen of Avoca” thunderstorms?

With a steady Force 6 on the nose and a contrary current of 1 to 1.5kts I should have stayed put. Of course what I should have done… and what I did do…, are two paths that rarely bisect. In this case, I’d fallen victim to the one thing a sailor should never do…

I told someone I’d be in a certain place at a certain time. “Certain” shouldn’t be in a sailors vocabulary. In a moment of sheer stupidity (happens rather frequently I’m told), I agreed to attend a birthday party upon my return to French Guiana.

Of course I didn’t make it….

Progress at 1 knot was steady if frustratingly slow, but despite this I might have arrived with time to spare, if of course I hadn’t been swamped by a rogue wave!

Pause here for dramatic effect…

…

Obviously I didn’t drown because I’m still writing in the first person…

Was it a close call? No, but it was the first time I’d ever been thoroughly pooped!

How many adults dare say that nowadays?

I was dozing in my bunk (my favourite spot), when without warning Eileen was knocked sideways in a rush of noisy whitewater which, despite having one washboard in place and the hatch firmly closed, instantly drenched everything in the cabin. I can testify that having buckets of water thrown over me is an effective if unpleasant catalyst for gaining my full attention, an attention that was now directed at the cascade of water flowing down the companionway stairs. It’s source…? A new swimming pool in my pushpit. (—Deleted expletive!—)

One of these could save your life!

Outside it was immediately clear that everything that wasn’t tied down was now gone. Good thing I wasn’t outside huh? Cushions, ropes, jerry cans with my precious extra fuel, all washed overboard. Feeling strangely disconnected from reality amid apparent chaos, at least panic was the last thing on my mind. Stupefied, just about everything was far from my thoughts. It took the absurdity of a waterproof container (a practical Christmas gift) floating by, to break my stupor and set me in motion. Grabbing the improvised bucket, I did what I assure you comes naturally to all sailors in similar circumstances…

I bailed like a madman.

Why did I have to bail? Were the cockpit drains blocked? Much later I discovered that I’d only opened one of the two seacocks draining the pushpit. Luckily I’ve had a unique modification made to Eileen as a contingency against being flooded.

So glad I had this small modification made.

Check out the raised lip of my exterior lockers! The extra waterproofing kept most of the water out and the interior bilge pump installed in the heads meant I could safely deal with any seepage from the safety of “the can”.

An extra pump in the heads came in handy too!

Ten brownie points for being prepared!

Now what?

Not enough fuel to get to Saint Laurent but if I can push on a while longer I’ll just reach Guyana. Good thing I’ve got Chris Doyle’s guide aboard.

Looks like I’ll be making an unscheduled visit!

Two weeks in Martinique

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It’s not so sunny in Martinique.

Having friends show me around Martinique certainly made my visit here all the more enjoyable. For a change, I didn’t have to wander the streets like a homeless person or sit alone at a bar each evening looking solitarily forlorn while reminiscing over previous adventures.

Not that everything was as delightfully entertaining as I would have liked. The weather certainly did its darnedest to put a damper on the fun, almost preventing my arrival altogether (Martinique was on yellow alert), and when I finally did settle down safely at the anchorage in Fort de France I was unexpectedly boarded by four burly customs officers while asleep. After questioning me and sifting through everything I owned with a fine toothed comb, they evidently decided I wasn’t such a bad apple after all and left me to return to my slumber.

Do you suppose I can ask them to put it all back?

Now I don’t begrudge “la douane” for doing their job, but imagine what it’s like having your bedroom invaded by strangers, and everything aboard turned upside down and inside out, especially when you’re so obviously innocent of any wrongdoing?

OK, perhaps I’m not that innocent, but I insist that I at least look it.

Are we all agreed?

Surely hoarding a tad more aged rum aboard than what’s usually fit for personal consumption isn’t a crime. What other souvenir was I expected to buy from these islands? Besides, I’ve promised to send a bottle or two of quality rum back to Europe, and it’s certainly high time I delivered…

Traditional yole racing is all the rage in Martinique

So what’s there to do in Martinique that isn’t yacht related?

Plenty!

Apparently Josephine wasn’t too popular back home.

Being a fan of intellectual pursuits (ahem…), of historical significance of course, I found this statue of empress Josephine rather fascinating. I didn’t know she was from these parts!

Apparently she wasn’t that popular here, or having the head removed from memorials is a Martinique tradition…

Not quite Brazil but who’s complaining….

Well then, who am I to defy tradition…

Doctor Dolittle in Marigot Bay, Saint Lucia

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Marigot Bay, Saint Lucia

I’m in the land of Doctor Dolittle at Marigot Bay, Saint Lucia (the 1967 movie was filmed here)… Quaint but somewhat contrived. Why is it that marina or tourist developments in general wind up looking like Club Med or Disneyland theme park imitations?

It’s all so colour coordinated! :)

Maybe the same architect is commissioned to do everything?

Remind me never ever ever to do something similar in Saint Laurent du Maroni…

Dare I confess that I’ve reached the point where every island is starting too look the same? Have I become so blase about travel to new Caribbean destinations that nothing strikes me as novel and interesting anymore? Even my brief visit to a real marina in Rodney Bay seemed somewhat lusterless.

What’s the missing ingredient here?

Something is missing….. and it’s all to do with people!!!

While yachting facilities and infrastructure generally improve as I venture north, and the scenery is consistently spectacular, the sailors welcome I’ve grown accustomed to further south is noticeably absent!

Now before I get everyone upset with me for making such a blatant generalizations based on my not so lengthy visits (in what could arguably be considered the low season), let me at least try to justify the observation…

Caveat: As I am rather fond of my personal wellbeing, readers easily angered and harboring vengeful violent tendencies toward bloggers with unpopular views are kindly asked to skip the following paragraphs…

Easily swayed peace loving, ad clicking types, please read on:

I’m afraid (not really, but bear with me), that in tourism dominated economies, visiting yachtsmen are viewed as nothing but ambulatory wallets, and no amount of well rehearsed “I hope you have a excellent day…., enjoy your meal… do come back soon”, plastic wrapped fast food friendliness can substitute for a sincere welcome.

It’s obvious that there’s been too many yachts passing through here, we’re not visitors, we’re a plague!

No wonder that even simple courtesy between navigators has become somewhat contrived.

In South America (or at the jump off points from Europe), where distances between ports are measured in days rather than hours, sailors eagerly seek one another’s company. There is a tangible sense of community among yachtsmen and everyone does their part (whether that be by assisting with mooring lines, lending a hand with mechanical repairs, sharing a taxi, even playing interpreter), to make one another feel at home. Wow, it’s just like Shangrila isn’t it? lol

Since arriving in Grenada, I get the impression that yachtsmen are doing their best to avoid one another. Other yachts and yachtsmen are viewed as obstacles (unless of course they happen to be the Cruising Association of Brazilian Bikini models).

I’d like to place the blame squarely upon the yacht charter contingent for this. They’re certainly not reading this article and conveniently can’t defend themselves. An obvious choice for a scapegoat, plus it stops me wondering if I’m being ostracized by other sailors because my boat isn’t pretty enough, or by the locals because my wallet defies their ambulatory wishes and remains stubbornly sedentary.

As I’m obviously too lazy to polish Eileen every second day, (and I think I’ve misplaced my wallet… will you buy this round?…), I’ve decided to solve the social niceties issue that’s been bugging me by being anti-social too, and avoiding all the well traveled sailing routes Ah, to boldly… (more likely blindly)… go where no other yachtsman’s wallet has gone before….

But first I have friends to see in Martinique…

Bequia is Better… in December

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Anchorage in Bequia, Saint Vincent

Ah, this is more like it… Lots of bars, restaurants, and activities to suit all tastes, all within easy reach of a lovely protected anchorage. But where is everybody?

Plenty of boats at anchor but not enough people to fill even one bar to capacity.

Lots of boats but no people!

It would appear that Bequia is the victim of its own success… Super popular with sailors for one or two months of the year (the island can accommodate thousands of visitors in the high season), but if you happen to arrive in May as I did…. “forgetaboutit”… nothing… nada… you’d have trouble finding three visitors for each establishment…

It’s another very empty restaurant / bar in Bequia

Can’t say I’ve been too lucky with my timing, but who’d have thought Caribbean entertainment was so seasonal in nature? Fine if it’s seclusion you seek, but I can assure you that that’s the last thing a single handed sailor has in mind when he goes ashore…. I asked a local “What does everyone do here in the low season?”, to which she replied… “we walk our dogs”…

Thrilling!

More boats…. but still nobody….

It’s no secret that I crave a cold beer and decent food when I set foot on dry land. If I can find it in a venue overlooking the anchorage, popular with locals and sailors alike, where I can WiFi galore, people watch, and tell tall tales, I’m a very happy chap…

But whilst I’m reminded once again with the song that’s playing on the radio that “two out of three ain’t bad”… I’m already making my exit plans… (stage left…)

The mystique of Mustique

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Basil’s Bar, Mustique

The rich and famous keep houses here so it must surely be splendid…. yes? no?… I must admit that the water is extra clear, the beaches extra white, and the vegetation extra green…

Isn’t it amazing what money can buy?

I hopped ashore for a beer at Basil’s Bar, paid a handsome sum of money for it… (I think the last time I paid so much for a beer was in Stockholm), and decided the rich can keep their island!

Who would have thought it’s possible to be bored to death in under 30 minutes while in tropical paradise?

I certainly hope the rich and famous have more entertaining things to do up in their villas….

All I have to say is that Mustique has very little to offer me in the mystique department….. move along, nothing to see or do here… move along….

Union island sucks…

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Happy Island, Union

Not really…

I’ve just been selling that line via text message to my friends (2 at last count but rapidly decreasing), because I don’t want them to think I’m enjoying myself too much…

Can’t have them getting upset as they sit at their desks furiously shuffling paper to meet their latest deadline. They might get the bright idea of giving it all away by going out to buy a boat and then… horror of horrors,… Happy Island would be crowded with a multitude of ex-paper shufflers.

It’s just another white sandy beach in the Grenadines…

So let me reassure them that the beaches are just like what they have back home….

No bikini clad Brazilians… but lots of goats!

The only girls I’ve come close to here have beards…

Downtown Union Island, Saint Vincent

There’s nothing resembling a decent sized mall downtown…

I’ve been plane spotting!

Flights to the island are “at your own risk” (If you don’t believe me read the warnings at the airport)…

and while I’m at it, I might as well spread a rumor that there’s no more anchorage space.

It’s a dogs life…

In fact there’s absolutely nothing to do in Union…

So as soon as I’ve finished my next rum punch (at Happy Island), and watched yet another monotonous sunset (yawn), I’ll make plans for sailing further north…

 

Now what? Sail to Carriacou of course…

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What do you do in Carriacou?

Hey, nice anchorage…

A great opportunity to make use of “yea old inflatable kayak’s” new replacement… meet Loko the rigid plastic sit on top kayak! The one man, wet bum answer to all my anchorage locomotive requirements… Yes there’s nothing better than arriving at immigration and customs with a wet derrière…. It’s the latest fad… Try it….

Loko the RTM kayak

I’ve had to learn to kneel rather than sit in this contraption… It’s less stable, but so far it has kept the underwear dry…

So what did I do in Carriacou?

Beer Time in Carriacou

Had a beer…

Anyone for cheap Venezuelan diesel?

Watched the Venezuelan ship sell smuggled fuel to fishermen.

No comment…

Watched the wildlife do something similar…

Café… Perhaps Cafe… but Kafe? 10 points for originality!

Had a great breakfast at this place… Obviously I was drawn by the name…

Is it just me or has the English language drastically diverged from its roots here in the Caribbean? I’m sure everyone believes I’m half deaf given the number of times I’ve said “pardon” or “what was that again”… I’m told Jamaica (or my misspent youth attending rock concerts) is to blame…

Why Jamaica? Good question! Apparently it is credited throughout the English speaking islands with asserting  Caribbean youth cultural identity.

Which is just a fancy way of saying they have a successful modern music industry. ;)

I’m old school… because I’m only able to make sense of Bob Marley’s lyrics. These days Jamaican artists might as well be singing in Hebrew for all I can tell.

….Maybe they are…

Or it has something to do with the new varieties of weed they can grow nowadays.

Booty at the local boutique!

A note to navigators clearing out at Hillsborough.

Please bring, and if possible donate a pen for your fellow compatriots. A dire shortage of these rare instruments (for use by visitors in Grenada) means you will immediately be sent to the local supermarket to acquire one. I’d have obliged, but the shop only sold red ones!

If it wasn’t for the kindness of a complete stranger (generously loaning “their precious”), I’d still be at the immigration office looking enviously at the pens reserved for immigration employees, staring at my incomplete exit form.

Next island….

 

They build them better in Grenada!

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A typical speed boat in Grenada

Look at this!

I tip my hat to shipwright genius in Grenada! Boats that go fast and still let the driver see where they’re going. Eat your heart out T&T… I even took a ride in one just to check….

The Caribbean rasta-man ferryman

While there’s nothing but “yachty” things to do in Prickly Bay, some aimless wandering about St. George’s gave me the chance to take these holiday snapshots…

Postcard snapshots of Grenada

The views from just about everywhere are impressive, no wonder sailors like to take up temporary residence here during the hurricane season, but for some reason it didn’t take me long before I started to get bored…

Panoramic view of The Carenage, Saint George’s, Grenada

Call it what you will, lingering PBBS, or landscape attention deficit syndrome…. but even these bright red fire engines didn’t manage to enthuse me for long…

Look at the fire engines mum!

 

 

 

 

Now what?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Squallrous seas?

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A bank of “squallrous” cloud? lol

I sailed through the night in what I have decided to term “squallrous” conditions, arriving in Grenada thoroughly “shaken… but not stirred”…

Only the occasional passenger a.k.a. Eva the ex girlfriend (I’m going way back in time here), has ever been emotionally stirred by landfall. I now suspect that my sailing style may have had something to do with it…

Evidently not everyone enjoys having cascades of water pouring over the gunwale because I’m too lazy to reduce sail in a squall.

Are we there yet?

Oh, and I know that “squallrous” isn’t a real word, but it should be, and the only alternatively satisfying sounding utterance, “squalid” was already taken with another meaning…

When having that gin and tonic sundowner… (to snub the rum and coke crowd), nibbling on a two day old cucumber sandwich or two, you should be able to say to your fellow sailor… “A tad squallrous that last leg from Tobago don’t you think?”, to which the standard reply should be… “Oh, rather…rather… young chap…”.

Note: I still qualify as as young chap in the Caribbean sailing fraternity… as does anyone under the age of 65….

 

Editors note: Please add this entry into the Absurdly Extended Oxford English Dictionary:
Squallrous n. prone to frequent storms or squalls. Often associated with short lived but violent gusts of wind…. e.g. Aunt Libbie has an infamously squallrous temperament. You really ought to think twice before devouring that last shortbread biscuit.

I think all this single handed sailing is starting to have an adverse effect on my mental state….

You don’t impress me because I’ve been to Tobago too…

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The absurd Trinidad & Tobago pirogue

Five days sailing north and I’m back in the Caribbean! Tobago to be precise… Since I’ve already written enough about Tobago….

 

This space is intentionally left blank…

OK, I’ll add just one anecdote:

When you are in Trinidad and Tobago you will definitely come across one of these “pirogues” (local fishing and / or leisure boats, and yes, I know they look more like a traditional rowboat than a native canoe but they’re still called a pirogue)…

Pirogue, French Guiana style

If you want to see a real pirogue (some boast 40HP outboard engines), come to French Guiana. (Not so subtle plug for a certain marina development). ;)

In fact, having talked to some elderly people who remember the days before outboard engines… (OK perhaps an old seagull engine or two were to be found)… they were just that….. rowboats.

With a high prow and heavy keel, is it not obvious the design wasn’t meant for towing water skiers? I’m sure they’re quite nimble under oar or sail, easily reaching 5 knots or so, but try telling that that’s the optimal speed to one of these locals! :)

Somewhere along the line, an entrepreneurial individual decided to take a mould off an old wooden “pirogue” and produce this craft on mass in fiberglass. Way to go…. except that that’s also when they then started fitting them with 60 plus horsepower outboards!

You’ve probably got to do a lot more travel than I have to see a more absurd vessel than this… Under power, the rear end digs in so far and the bow lifts to the point that the driver hasn’t a clue where he’s going… Worse still, at speed the whole thing starts oscillating, so that even on smooth water its an incredibly rough ride.

It’d be a laughing matter if they didn’t kill or injure so many people with these boats. Though I’ll admit that whether it’s humorous or not can depend of who gets injured… and whether I get to do the driving… ;)