Our next stop was at Port St. Louis marina in St Georges harbour. On arrival we had quite a shock. We were expecting a rustic anchorage in the lagoon. Instead we found a modern marina packed with yachts, including some real monsters. However it was pleasant enough and supplied all our needs.
In search of some land based exercise, we took a taxi to the national rain forest park and walked the disappointingly short seven sisters waterfall circuit. Unfortunately, we only saw two of them, the others remaining elusive.
Ok, where are the other five?
The following day we moved to Halifax harbour. It’s not a harbour at all, but it provided a good anchorage in a most attractive setting fringed with coconut palms. Classic Caribbean stuff.
Our next port of call was to Tyrrel Bay on the small island of Carriacou, 30 odd miles to the north. We had a head wind much of the way and had to beat our way in, increasing the distance considerably. It was hard work and despite an early start we arrived in the dark.
We enjoyed Carriacou and visited several peaceful anchorages, relishing the new experience of navigating through reefs to find sheltered anchorages well away from other yachts.
Customs & immigration in the Caribbean require one to ‘clear in’ on arrival and to ‘clear out’ before leaving the island. If you are only staying for one day, both can be done at the same time. For many islands this generates a little revenue and is no great hardship for us.
The bureaucracy can be rather interesting at times. As I was checking out of Grenada territory, I was given a foolscap form and instructed to go to the supermarket across the road! There I was to buy the services of their photocopier and make four copies. On my return I had to sit down and fill in all the identical forms. Photocopies of a completed form were not allowed! Ho Hum.
Can you identify this fine flower?
We have no idea what it is.
We witnessed an astonishing sight whilst anchored at Petit St Vincent. From our cockpit we were treated to the spectacle of a Magnificent Frigate Bird harassing a Tern until, in its desperation to escape, the Tern dropped the fish it had caught. The Frigate Bird then retrieved the fish! These bully boy tactics seem at odds for such a beautiful bird.
We didn’t delay our departure and sailed off in the morning to Chatham Bay in Union Island. We took a short cut and sailed between the tiny sand islands of Pinese and Mopion. The two islands mark a passage through the reef. It was blowing a good force 4 and the breaking waves on the reef were quite intimidating. As we approached at a good speed, we saw that there were not two but three sandy islands! This brought on a definite crisis of confidence. Which two bordered the safe passage?
Two or Three sand Islands?
We were approaching fast and a decision had to be made. Pippa took the helm. I consulted the GPS and checked the chart. The chart suggested there were only two islands! I decided that ours were the two most southerly of the three. As we got even closer this was confirmed by seeing the reef was continuous between the centre and northerly island. Phew!
The anchorage at Chatham Bay was excellent. As we were the early birds, we were able to pick an anchorage of our choosing. We spent the rest of the day swimming and snorkelling on the reef at the north end of our bay. The snorkelling was absolutely delightful, a fascinating three dimensional aquatic garden, brightly coloured fish and a variety of corals. While resting between spells of swimming, we watched pelicans & young boobies fishing in the bay.
First thing after breakfast the following day, we set sail past Mayreau Island and the Tobago Cays (Though its no where near Tobago) for Canouan. We had a lovely, if quite short sail. 4 ½ to 5 knots the whole way, with three tacks. The sun shone, the sea sparkled and all was well with our small world. We arrived and anchored with ample time for a swim before lunch.
We did yet more snorkelling in the warm & crystal clear water. The coral reef was a delight, providing everything you would expect. A wide variety of spectacular coral in a giant tropical fish tank with an abundance of the most wonderfully coloured fish. We swam with them and they accepted us. At one stage I joined a school of tiddlers. There were thousands of them to the extent that they obstructed the wider view. Wow!
On the surface, we again delighted at the skill and aerobatics of pelicans swooping across the bay before diving into the water to catch the fish we had just been admiring.
A typical Caribbean windward coast.
Our next passage was from Canouan to Port Elizabeth on Bequia island.
We had a fabulous sail, often at hull speed (6½ to 7 knots) with sun shine, salt spray and the temperature pleasantly warm to hot. We had a tacking duel with a larger yacht towards the end, but couldn’t quite get ahead of him. We pointed higher, but he sailed faster. Of course we weren’t racing!
Checking in with Bequia customs and immigration was combined with checking out of St. Vincent territory. I just had to fill in the two almost identical forms in triplicate, and pay a fee of 80 EC Dollars. I don’t mind contributing a little to the country’s economy, but I do hope they recycle all that paper.
After buying some rather poor quality and also rather expensive fruit and vegetables in the Rasta market, we moved out of the crowded anchorage at Port Elizabeth and found a less frenetic place to drop our hook at Princess Margaret Bay. All very patriotic isn’t it?
Chateaubelair Bay, St. Vincent.
Wednesday 11th of January we made passage from Bequia to St Vincent.
We had a good sail to start the day, but ended up motoring into a head wind for the last few miles. Wishing to avoid the crowds and the reportedly over zealous boat boys, (middle aged men mostly) we sought out the apparently deserted Chateaubelair Bay. We found a beautiful anchorage in a secluded part of the bay off a coral shore and a stand of coconut palms. Quite stunning.
We succumbed to the magic of the place and paid John, who approached us paddling a decrepit wind surfing board with a broken plastic paddle, over the odds for a couple of coconuts and a few green oranges. He asked for a drink, but turned up his nose at fruit juice. It was beer he was after. While I was snorkeling, Pippa handed out a few mini Mars bars to a boy who claimed his brother was sick in hospital and wouldn’t eat anything but snacks. As Al Capone was reported as saying “It’s sometimes fun being a sucker, if you can afford it”.
Oh! It’s such a hard life.
We set off after breakfast for the passage to St Lucia. We had good sailing for most of the day except that, the further north we went, the further off our course we had to sail. In the end we were eight miles off shore and had to motorsail into harbour. At about this time clouds gathered around us and the heavens opened up. We made Soufriere Bay shortly before dark and were guided to a vacant mooring by a ‘boat boy’. We were grateful for his services in the rapidly failing light.
Next morning we were met by Michel, our self appointed boat boy. He took us ashore to clear customs and to do a little shopping. I should point out that we don’t have an engine for our inflatable dinghy and it was a fair old paddle against a head wind to reach shore.
I should also point out that boat boys are not boys at all but grown men. This seemingly politically incorrect title is universally used and seems to be quite accepted by the boat drivers themselves. Having said that, we don’t feel comfortable with it, and avoid using the term. Sadly, there are no boat girls.
We asked Michel how much he charged for his services, but this was met with evasion. “Oh you just pay me what you think”. We explained that we weren’t at all rich and were worried that he would feel insulted if we offered him too little. However he wouldn’t budge. I insisted on paying him up to date after he had taken us back to Sula and offered him 20 EC dollars. (£4) His face dropped. How much then? I asked. “Petrol for my engine is very expensive, give me another $10” I happily did so and off he went, promising to return and take us ashore in the morning. I wondered if he would turn up?
A rather out of the ordinary boat boy’s boat in
Rodney Bay This one sold fresh (ish) fruit & veg.
Michel, true to his word turned up the following morning at the appointed hour and took us ashore.
We caught a bus (well mini bus) to the Tet Paul Nature Trail. In answer to yesterday’s question at the tourist office ,“What time does the bus leave?” the answer was simple, “When it’s full”.
Luck was with us, as we arrived there were just two seats left. We jumped aboard and the bus set off at the gallop. Unfortunately, the driver forgot to drop us off at the turning for Tet Paul. He was most apologetic and looked highly embarrassed. However we didn’t mind, the extra walk did us no harm.
The nature trail was interesting enough and our guide was charming. We were treated to some fine views especially of the Petit & Gros Piton. As we completed the circuit, we were confronted by a completely unambiguous sign, “Gratuities are accepted.” As much as I loathe tipping, how could I not?
The Petit Piton from Tet Paul
Back on board Sula, the wind had piped up making our mooring very bouncy. We left and picked up another mooring on the other side of the bay.
It was Saturday. A group of local boys (real ones) not being at school, came swimming out to ‘help’ us. I was afraid I would run one youngster down as I approached the buoy. I had to reverse off, causing us to miss the pick up. Pippa quickly threw the lad a rope and he tied it to the buoy for us. He then had the nerve to ask what we could give him for his services. He did it in such a charming way though, that I capitulated and gave him two fun size Snicker bars and a tin of Tuna.
Pippa swam ashore with a line to tie to a coconut palm. The moorings were very busy and as well as keeping us a safe distance from our neighbours, the line would also keep us bows to the swell, making things much more comfortable. She had to run the gamut of the lads who were so eager to help!
The next day we thought we would do a little exploring and sailed off for the little frequented anchorage of Laborie Bay, ten miles to the south.
The morning calm soon gave way to a brisk NE trade wind that slowed our passage.
On arrival at the entrance, the wind was a good force 4. Breaking waves swept the reef to leeward and, to cap it all, the one buoy marking the narrows of the approach passage was missing. We decided that, discretion being the better part of valour, we would chicken out.
The consequences of the slightest thing going wrong were just not worth the risk. We set the jib and headed back towards Soufriere at six knots.
In Deux Pitons Bay we were lucky enough to find a vacant mooring. Anchoring is prohibited here in order to protect the fine coral reefs.
We had paid the marine ranger 80 EC$ that allowed us to use any mooring in the area for up to a week. It works out at £3 per night. That’s what I call value for money, even if you have to play the game with a ‘boat boy’, and pay him £2 for his help when picking up the mooring.
On Monday, having had a very enjoyable morning’s sail to L’Anse la Raye, we had a minor panic as we entered the harbour. The engine over heating alarm went off. I had failed to open the engine sea cock! What a clot!
We immediately stopped the engine and anchored in 12 metres while I sorted things out. Fortunately, no harm was done and we were able to resume our way into the harbour as soon as the engine had cooled down a bit. Phew.
I was caught out again while anchoring. The wind dropped off to the merest zephyr as we entered the bay.
There were half a dozen small fishing boats on moorings, in the best part of the harbour clear of the jetty, fairway and reefs. There was however a gap with suitable depths so I lined Sula up using the orientation of the moored boats as a reference to show how we would lie. We dropped sufficient chain, reversed to dig the anchor in and bathed in the rosy glow of a job well done.
Strangely though, Sula didn’t lie quietly to her anchor. Instead, she drifted gently through the moorings until she lay facing the opposite way to all the other boats. Most odd I thought. What’s going on here? On closer inspection of the fishing boats, I discovered that they were all tied up and hanging from their sterns! Presumably to present their bows to any swell entering the tiny harbour. Now that was something they didn’t teach me on my Yachtmaster course.
After lunch, Pippa went snorkeling while I pumped up the dinghy and rowed ashore. A charming man helped me up the beach with the dinghy and assumed the role as my personal tourist guide. I allowed myself to be shown round the village and in all honesty saw more of how the local people really lived than I would otherwise have done. We ended up in a very local bar for a beer and for me to get change for a EC$50 note. My guide was astonished that Pippa and I had sailed across the Atlantic. He was even more astonished to learn that Pippa stood her share of the watches and could sail the yacht single handed if I were to be injured. On the way back to the beach he plucked a posy of attractive green leaves from a bush (from somebody else’s garden) and gave them to me “for your wonderful wife”. Pippa was tickled pink.
Pippa’s Posy.
Our last anchorage on St Lucia was the delightful Trou Gascon.
We couldn’t believe our luck. It was sheltered, but with a good breeze and we had it to ourselves. After lunch we swam ashore to a fine sandy beach and chatted with the son of the land owner who lived in a shack just off the beach. He assured us that we weren’t trespassing and were welcome to enjoy the land. He went on to explain about the good fruit growing on the trees beside the mangrove swamp.
On Monday 23rd of January we set off early for the 25 mile passage to Cul-de-Sac du Marin on Martinique.Having found the pass through the reef, we anchored off the perfectly sheltered Ilet Baude.
Next day we moved to the marina at Marin to check in and to get some shopping. There were literally hundreds of yachts anchored, on moorings, or in the marina. The place was packed. We weren’t tempted to stay a moment longer than we had to.
We left at noon on the following day and sailed the short distance to a good anchorage off St Anne just outside the entrance to Cul-de-sac du Marin.
We got up ridiculously early on Thursday, just after sunrise and set of to explore the windward coast of Martinique. After a hard bash to windward round the reef bound southern tip of the island, we were able to ease sails slightly, but just as we did so, Sula gently drew to a complete halt! She had become entangled with a rope attached to a heavy duty fishing net! Our long keel configuration often protects us from this mishap, but we were not so lucky today. The sails were dragged down and the crew peered over the side. What was to be done? The offending rope could just be reached with the boat hook, but was too tight to haul aboard. The waves were big enough for us to be very circumspect about going over the side with a sharp knife. Then, as suddenly and as unexpectedly as we had become entangled, Sula was free! One can’t relax for a second on this coast.
Without further mishap we continued towards Bay des Anglais. The entrance demands careful pilotage through a pass between reefs, small islands and rocks. Once inside we anchored out of the Atlantic Ocean swell, but not out of a fresh trade wind. Nevertheless, we were quite content. One other yacht was in the bay. It was a local tourist sailing catamaran. We had not long anchored when they decided to move further into the bay, and as they passed close to our stern tooted their horn and waved in salute. Our pilot book tells us that very few yachts explore this spectacular and challenging coast.
Another early start next day saw us clear of Bay des Anglais shortly after 7am. The wind was blowing hard into the bay making our exit rather intimidating, with breaking waves on both sides as we motor sailed through the pass.
Another bash to windward followed, as we sailed round Cap Ferre, before we could ease sail and enter the wonderful Passe du Vauclin. Life immediately became exciting, but not difficult. We found ourselves sailing at up to seven knots with reefed main and jib.
We had an almost continuous reef to starboard, protecting us from the Atlantic swell, It was very obvious because of the white water breaking over it! The waves had after all travelled over two thousand miles, pushed by the North East Trades all the way from Africa.
To port were more reefs, white with the remnants of any swell that remained. It focused the mind wonderfully. In no time at all we arrived at our destination, Cul de Sac Petite Grenade. We saw it clearly, but the pass into it through a narrow break in the coral took a little more finding.
Cul-de-Sac Petite Grenade
(Sans-Soucis means, without worry!)
Great care was exercised; enough power from the engine to keep us on track was required, but at the same time I wanted to travel as slowly as conditions would allow. This, on the reckoning that if I got it wrong, I would rather go gently aground than at full speed. However, all went well. Pippa stood on the coach roof wearing her polaroid sunglasses enabling her to see clearly through the water and directed our course. Before we knew it we were safely at anchor in the mangrove surrounded bay. Unfortunately, neither of us had had the time or presence of mind to take any photographs.
Saturday saw us anchored off the south side of Ilet Long. The approach was via the Grand Passe du Simon, with reefs on all sides to be negotiated. Once again, we were very glad of the GPS, laptop plotter, pilot book, mark one eyeballs and brain in top gear.
A short sail was on the menu for Sunday. We motored out through the Grand Passe du Simon then got the sails up and had a cracking sail round to Havre du Francois. As it’s well marked with buoys, it was a relatively easy passage. We were able to sail within a few boat lengths of our anchorage.
The following day we motored the short distance to the Marina du Robert. A really small harbour for fishing boats and motor launches. We just had enough depth of water to make the fuelling pontoon. They closed just as we arrived. But the friendly attendant allowed us to remain on the pontoon until after lunch. 1030 until 1500! Well it is a French island. We got our bikes out of the cockpit locker and headed off to town just two kilometres away, for provisions and Email. Although the supermarche was very good. the village internet facility was closed, it being a Monday! Don’t forget, it is French.
So we returned to the fuelling pontoon at 1100 the next morning and headed for town and the internet facility. I needed to complete my on line Tax return today or face a £100 fine. Oh, the stress was awful. The French keyboard was different to ours with lots of extra punctuation marks. As a result I kept typing in gibberish when trying to enter my password. Because one only sees a line of *****. it’s not immediately obvious what’s going on. At least not to a thicky like me. Pippa also had problems; at the supermarche check out her debit card wouldn’t work. It was no better at the hole in the wall. So she had to wait for me to finish, before collecting the shopping. We dashed back to the pontoon and left just before opening time.
local craft in Harve du Robert
local craft in Harve du Robert
On the 1st of February, having negotiated the Passe du Francois, we set the jib and sailed around the off lying reefs to the well buoyed Harve du Robert. We did a short tour of the bay before settling on a perfectly protected anchorage at Point Melon off the village of Reunion. For only the second time on the east coast of Martinique, we had to share it with other yachts. But it was a big bay and all but one of the other yachts were not manned.
We were nearing the end of our time on Martinique and needed to check out. Unfortunately, the only place this could be done was at Fort de France, directly on the other side of the island. The solution was to anchor as close to Havre du Robert as possible and catch a taxi bus. It turned out to be a shared minibus, so we didn’t quibble at the EC$3 fare for the forty five minute journey.
Baie du Tresor from the Mangroves
Our last new anchorage on Martinique was at Baie du Tresor. It was just wonderful. We sailed out of Havre du Robert, skirted the two miles of sparkling wave washed reefs to leeward, and with great humility and with Pippa as pilot, wove our way through the sheltered reefs to find ourselves the only vessel in this stunning anchorage. We had a pleasant walk ashore, a refreshing swim and then reluctantly returned to Havre du Robert.
We had to go because we needed an early start the following morning and wouldn’t be able to see the reefs until the sun was high in the sky.
Bay du Tresor
Sorry its the wrong way round. I can't get it as landscape.
Martinique was for us the last of the Windward Islands. Henceforth we would be sailing northwards in the Leeward Islands and could expect few, if any, headwinds.
We sailed for Marie Galante early on Friday, 4th February, having elected to miss out Dominica - an island which had little to offer us from a cruising point of view. We anchored beyond the reefs in the outer harbour of Grand Bourg at 2030.
We could see the lights of the inner harbour, but chose to anchor off and save ourselves the night’s marina fee. (Tight fisted matelots that we are). Rather disappointingly, in the morning, we discovered that not only was there no marina, there was no room for anchoring and no usable vacant mooring buoys. We therefore sailed of for Les Saintes just sixteen miles downwind sailing away, and found a vacant buoy at the charmingly named Anse Sous le Vent, on Ilet a Cabrit.
Les Saintes provided us with three good anchorages and a fairly good walk in its hills.There was a fine viewpoint over the whole island and off lying islets, unfortunately it was rather misty so no decent quality photo was available.
On Thursday 9th we made another early start and had a cracking sail to Pointe a Pitre on Guadeloupe. We found a satisfactory anchorage, quite busy, but with plenty of room. But rather gruesomely there were four wrecked yachts on the surrounding reefs; two with just their masts above water.
TLC time for Sula
We decided that Guadeloupe would be a good opportunity to lavish Sula with some care and attention that she richly deserves. Her topsides are badly stained and dull. Water has found its way, not through the gelcoat, but under the thin layer of paint that remains. So she has been hauled out of the water, but longs to return to her natural environment.
We have pressure washed and anti fouled her bottom. (Or, in landsman’s words, changed her nappy.) A surveyor is preparing a full survey for our own peace of mind and to help with insurance problems we have had. The topsides are being professionally painted as I type.
It is Carnival time in Guadeloupe and following an introduction from the lady owner of Schip-O-Case we have had the pleasure of dining with Joel and Francoise, fellow Elizabethan 31 owners, in their home on the island of Islet Boussiard.
So there we are, I think we will be OK here for a week or so.
