March 2017

In which we continue north, then west, through the Lesser Antilles.

The weather, at the start of March, wasn’t great. Frequent squally showers and the wind north of east 20+ knots, which meant that progress north would be uncomfortable. Admiralty bay on Bequia provides a safe haven, so we just lazed here for 3 days with just an occasional dinghy ashore for provisions and, finally, to book out.

Pitons

On the 4^th, the wind dropped to a forecast 15-20 knots and veered just sufficiently that we could make the trip back up to St Lucia without tacking. Anchor up at 09:00 and set sail with 2 reefs in the main. The wind was as forecast, just north of east, giving us a good sail up to St Vincent, where it became a bit fluky, forcing us to motor-sail for a while. Once clear of the island it steadied again and we had a fine close reach up to St Lucia. Here we took a mooring in the bay between the Pitons, choosing to be towards the centre of the bay rather than with the gaggle in the north east corner. Another yacht, on the adjacent buoy, soon left us and joined them. We wondered if it was something we had said until the wind dropped and we started rolling. We are pretty inured to this by now and slept well and were rewarded by a beautiful sunset in what is one of the most picturesque settings imaginable. Our next leg, up to Martinique, was slightly further off the wind so on leaving the next morning we headed well offshore to be clear of wind shadow. This tactic worked and we had another fine close reach up to the entrance to Fort de France bay where we had 5 miles into wind to get to our chosen anchorage, off Point de Bout. We had plenty of time and, a couple of years ago, we would definitely have beaten up but we must be getting lazy as we just nodded to each other, put the sails away and motored up.

The following morning, we hired a car for a couple of days to do a little sight-seeing and shopping. We hadn’t seen a European style supermarket since leaving the Canaries over 3 months before and were looking forward to good cheese, charcuterie and fresh meat as well as beer for me, as my transatlantic supply was finally running out. It was only that evening that we looked at the medium range forecast and discovered that, while it was good sailing weather for the next 2 days, it was then going to revert to strong north easterlies. The first afternoon we toured round the southern end of the island, calling in at the marina at La Marin to have a drool in the chandlery before driving up the east coast to Le Francois then back across to find a big supermarket. We knew that there were Carrefour’s and Super U’s near the airport but couldn’t see them from the main road so ended up in a Leader Price. This is definitely at the budget end but still had a better selection than we had seen for months. Martinique, like other former French colonies, is now a department of France and is much more European in culture and appearance than the former British colonies that we had seen. As well as the supermarkets, there are patisseries, butchers and western hair dressers. There are even golf courses. Gardens and even the roadside verges are neat. So neat that we assumed that, instead of grass, they were covered in a local plant that grew only to 10cm tall. Until we came across a roadside gang armed with strimmers trimming them.

On Tuesday, we toured round the north end of the island. The local tourist office had suggested visiting a tombolo, only accessible at this time of year, where one could walk across to an offshore island and we wasted an hour, diving through various housing estates and along cart tracks before giving up and continuing north. A few miles later we came across a sugar refinery advertising tours. We dived off the road and found a space in a crowded car park only to be told that tours did not start until the following week. Really? Really! Concluding that we weren’t very good at this tourist lark we continued up to our other planned destination of the day, St James’ rum distillery where, by the skin of our teeth, we managed to catch the last tour of the day. Conducted, naturally, in French so I understood one word in 3 and Elsie rather less. There were signs in English so I think that we got the gist. Unlike other rums that we had learned about, St James is made from raw cane sugar rather than molasses. The tour was followed by a tasting. I, being the driver, had to content myself to a sniff and the merest drop of each and Elsie confined herself to sips but it wasn’t a huge hardship as, to our tastes, it does not measure up to others especially our favourite so far, Mount Gay. After a picnic in the park, we continued our cultural theme by visiting a banana museum, definitely a rip-off at 7 Euros for a room-full of notices and a stroll round a park but interesting nonetheless. Back to base over the spine of the island, identifying supermarkets on the way. Our final half day with the car was used to visit a couple of these and stock up on precious food and drink. We spent the afternoon popping into the marina to top up on water and moving to a slightly more sheltered anchorage to sit out the blow expected for the next couple of days. Blow it did. On Thursday, we took a ferry across to Fort de France and a bus up to St Pierre. This was the capital of the island until 1902, when it was destroyed by an eruption by the nearby Mt Pelee killing the entire population apart from one prisoner who escaped in his well insulated cell and survived to make a living touring the States with Barnum’s circus exhibiting his burn scars. Again, we found the local museum a bit of a rip-off but weren’t as motivated by this as a visiting Frenchman who protested loud and long about the fact. After a wander about the town to look at the few remaining pre-eruption ruins we bussed back to Fort de France for lunch and a wander round before returning back to Ruby. After this unwonted few days of exertion and culture we took Friday off to relax.

We were now falling behind schedule. It’s all pretty much guess work but we have a long way to go before the hurricane season and our next target is to be in the Virgin Islands before the 1^st April and, while we would like to spend at least a few days on each island, the time had come to make some serious progress. The weather was fair for the next few days so, on Saturday, we sailed the 52 miles up to Roseau on Dominica. Again, this was a fine reach and we averaged nearly 7 knots. The book suggests that there is space to anchor on the narrow shelf round the bay but this has all now been taken up by mooring buoys so we took one for the night at a cost of $EC 40. On Sunday, we mostly motored the 20 miles up to Prince Rupert bay at the north of the island. We chose to anchor in isolation towards the south end, off the Portsmouth Beach hotel, but were soon joined by several other yachts for the night. Not too disappointing as security is a concern and, rightly or wrongly, there is a feeling of safety in numbers. Probably wrongly as, listening into the cruisers net after we had departed the following morning, there was a complaint by someone that they had had a problem the previous evening and had received no response to calls on channels 16 or 68. Since there were only 3 contributors to the net, the community is apparently less strong here than further south.

On Monday, we had another fine sail, this time with the wind just behind the beam, to Guadeloupe, calling first at Basse Terre, for clearance, bread and duty free fuel. This was the first diesel we had bought in the exactly 3 months since leaving Mindello. At 96 Euros for 122 litres we didn’t feel that we were being too extravagant. As we approached, a larger Belgian yacht closed on us from the east. While it is everyone’s duty to avoid collisions, he was upwind and clearly had the obligation to give way. He came within a few feet of us on our starboard side, slowly overtaking, obliging me to parallel his course. I asked in a conversational tone if he could seem me? Yes he could see me. Shrug. I then noticed that he was trailing a fishing line. Yes, I am trailing a line. And you are going to cross in front of me trailing this line? Shrug. Purely, of course, to assist collision avoidance, I started the engine and slowly engaged gear, thus also engaging our very efficient rope cutter and, once he was clear of our bow, I continued on our previous course. A minute later he pulled in the remaining few metres of line. Childish of me, I know.

From Basse Terre we continued a further 12 miles up the coast to anchor inside Pigeon Island for the night. It took a little reading of the fine print to work out where we were allowed to anchor, as there is a marine park where it is prohibited but we managed and had a peaceful night. We had 50+ miles to go to the next island, Antigua, and the forecast for the 14^th was for light winds so we had a late start and just sailed the 9 miles up to Deshais, on the north west coast of Guadeloupe. The anchorage was fairly full but we found a good spot towards the outside

Up for an early start on the 15^th and had a cracking beam reach across to Antigua, averaging well over 7 knots. Our preferred destination was English harbour but the arcane pricing system meant that it was far cheaper to go the few miles further to Jolly Harbour. This paid off in several ways. We not only got cheaper clearance but bumped into old friends on yacht Emerald Bay. Although I had seen Renee in Aberdeen a month before, we hadn’t seen Guy and their children since leaving the Canaries. They pointed out a nearby berth where we could take water and go to a convenient supermarket. We took full advantage of this before heading out to anchor, as it was now too late in the day to continue round to English Harbour. Jolly Harbour is an even swisher version of Rodney Bay. Lots of homes with private moorings on artificial peninsulas round the perimeter of a natural lagoon. Not our natural habitat, but I can see the attraction for those on a substantially larger budget. The potential anchorage outside covers square miles of flat shallow water, so I am unsure how we ended up in a crowd close to the entrance channel. The following morning we motored the 12 miles round to English harbour and managed to find space in Freeman Bay, near to our old friends on Dana de Mer. Their cruising plan had been dealt a crippling blow the previous week when a stay had parted, causing the collapse and loss of their entire rig. It seems that it will be several months before this can be replaced and their personal contribution to the cost will run into 4 figures, as well as leaving them in the centre of the lesser Antilles at the start of the hurricane season. We met more old friends from Blue Zulu and, as D de M always starts a party, a few new ones from other neighbouring yachts. We stayed here for 3 nights, socialising each evening and doing a little touristing during the day. The old dockyard has been very well restored and was well worth a visit.

Nelson's dockyard

We also took a bus up to the north of the island to visit the capital, St Johns. This had an area of remarkable contrasts. There is a dock where passenger ships tie up and leading from this is an immaculate boardwalk leading to a street of international shops: Gucci; Prada; Rolex; Columbian diamonds. Literally 50 metres away is the rest of the ‘standard’ Caribbean town with peeling paint, potholed streets and market stalls selling everything from fruit to second hand clothes. Presumably, the average passenger catches a bus or taxi from the end of ‘civilisation’ to visit Nelson’s dockyard and real life is just a view out of the window.

Cruise passengers' view of Antigua 

Time to move on again and, on the 19^th, we headed off to Barbuda. We had motored the 12 miles into wind from Jolly but must have been feeling masochistic as we elected to carry on round the windward side of Antigua, requiring a 2 ½ hour beat into an 18 knot wind to clear the south east point. We were then rewarded by a 30 mile broad reach down to Low Bay. This is a gorgeous 7 mile stretch of sand, separated by a lagoon from the rest of the island. To clear out (free of charge here) one has to cross the lagoon by water taxi (not free!) and, on approach, we were delighted to hear someone calling up to book a tour of the frigate bird colony and a visit to the town to clear out the following day. We quickly arranged to join with them. A further call from another yacht set up sun-downers on the beach so we were well set for a sociable visit. The sun-downers, though enjoyable, were somewhat marred, first by a rain shower, reminding us that we had left hatches open and then by a plague of sand flies, so we determined that the following evening we would meet aboard Ruby.

Barbuda beach

The boat trip to the frigate bird sanctuary was well worth doing with our guide, George, being both knowledgable and entertaining. To clear out, we had to mender round the only large settlement, Codrington, named after the previous tenant of the island (his rent was one fat sheep per year). When his lease expired, the island was gifted to the inhabitants, descendants of former slaves and they still run it although nominally under the control of Antigua. They fiercely resist tourist development and the town itself is unique in the Caribbean, being laid out in a neat grid of modest houses set on equal size plots, much like an Australian suburb. On our inviting our fellow trippers to the evenings revelries, it was decided that Ruby’s cockpit might be a bit cramped, so the venue was changed again to an American Amel, Bebe. All very pleasant, though I think that I might have mixed our contribution of rum punch a bit strong as the white sauce I made on return was not so successful.

Female frigates

Male frigates

 Pelicans

Young frigates

An early start the following morning and we set off towards Anguilla. It was dead downwind with 10 – 12 knots and we set full main and the cruising chute, its first outing since the Cabo Verdes. A shower approached and the wind increased to 15 knots. I had just decided that we would dowse it if it increased to 18 when we were hit by 25, the weak link broke and I had to heave a sodden chute aboard again. As soon as the shower passed, we hoisted it again but speed was not what we had hoped and it was getting dark as we approached St Barts, so we ducked into an anchorage on the north coast for the night. Another early start, as we were a bit unofficial, and headed on to Anguilla, this time in broad reaches past St Kitts, Elsie’s day being made by a broaching humpback whale, then a close reach up the northern side to Road bay. A lovely anchorage with very friendly officials and very low key tourist development. We would again be downwind on our next leg and as it was light conditions, we stayed 3 nights just taking a taxi ride to look round the main town, The Valley, and do a little provisioning.

On the 25^th, we set off at first light, first running, then broad reaching, and averaged over 7 knots to Virgin Gorda, the nearest of the BVIs, anchoring in a little bay opposite Necker, Branson’s private island, having a very picturesque bay to ourselves. We had been told that every square foot of anchoring space was as fiercely competed for as snow on a skiable day in the Cairngorms so this came as a pleasant surprise. As we were heading towards American territory, and we really don’t want to upset them as we we intend to spend much of the next year as their guests, we thought that we should arrive with our paperwork in order so headed to a port of entry on Tortola, Sopers Hole to clear in and out. There was no space to anchor in this small harbour, so we borrowed a buoy and I rowed ashore to be met by disinterested officials who charged me US $57 for my efforts. We couldn’t get away soon enough and popped round the corner to another delightful anchorage, this time with one other yacht in it. It seems that here, like Greece, if you are prepared to venture where there are no restaurants or shops you will be free of charter yachts and with the added bonus of no Italian motor boats!

Hawknest bay

On the 27^th we, mostly, sailed to Cruz bay on St John, heading for the custom dock. I headed in alone, as 2 out of 3 pieces of information received stated this to be correct, with heavy fines for non-compliance, only to be told that all crew should report together. As Elsie came across the dock, she was told of a mooring fee of $40. Outrageous, but we just smiled gently and got a six month permit to stay on US soil. Having paid the mooring fee, we did a little shopping, thus causing a jam of vessels who, I’m sure, were paying a lot less. We also popped across the bay to top up with water bought from a fuel dock attendant who was either too fat or too lazy to help us tie up. Most of St John is a National Park and most bays have payable mooring buoys. We backed up the coast a couple miles to Hawknest bay, again picture perfect though we had to share with half a dozen others. Payment is made into an honesty box on a pontoon, designed to be visited by dinghy. As Rubette was still lashed down, I decided to swim over and found that a pen was required to complete the forms, so back and forth with forms and pen in a plastic bag, inevitably punctured by said pen. Finally completed our obligations, though not without a few grazes from barnacles on the pontoon. We had chosen a buoy towards the centre of the bay without realising that there was a swim-able reef on the eastern side. I did swim over in the afternoon, but it was a bit of a distance so, in the morning, as others moved out, we hopped across to a more convenient spot and spent an hour snorkelling, before heading out, stopping to pick up some spare forms for the next time as we left. We had decided to head south round the island with a win-win option. If the wind on the south side was sail-able, we would make an almost complete circumnavigation to another park mooring site. If not, it should be calm enough to anchor in a bay outside the park but with a good write up as being completely off the beaten track with no buildings overlooking it. Option 2 it was though, since the guide was written, building has started though owners have yet to move in to their multi-million dollar homes. The bottom was mostly sea grass, and there were a few mooring buoys of unknown ownership, but we found a sandy patch large enough to anchor in. A motor yacht did poke its nose in later but otherwise we had the place to oiurselves and made the most of it, swimming round the coastal reef. A shriek informed me that Elsie had discovered a moray eel 2 metres below her but, by the time I arrived, all that remained was a cloud of sand where it had re-buried itself so, presumably, it had been equally startled. On return to Ruby, we found 2 remoras lurking beneath. These are shark shaped fish with suckers on the tops of their heads which they use to attach themselves to real sharks enabling them to grab free meals when the shark feeds. We also saw lots of other fish including 2 stingrays, which we left well alone. It was new moon that night, so we had a wonderful show of stars.

Newbuild in Rendezvous bay

Another swim in the morning, then it was time to move islands again, this time just 10 miles to Charlotte Amelie, the Capital of St Thomas. The wind was light an variable so it was alternate motoring and sailing. There is an excellent (though rather smelly – no swimming here!) anchorage right off the centre of the town. We quickly dinghied ashore, as we needed provisions and a US SIM card. The main street could provide neither of these as it was almost totally given over to jewellers shops, thronged by the passengers of 5 huge cruise ships. A local, stunned that anyone could expect to find food in the centre of a major town, suggested we took the ‘dollar bus’ to Crown Bay where there was a supermarket. By the time that we had worked out which of the open charabancs were taxis and which were buses, we were almost at our destination. A nose into a, very posh, marina found us a, very posh, AT&T store where they, kindly, didn’t comment on our sailing clothing and provided us with a SIM card. We fitted much better into the Pueblo supermarket and filled our bags and tried to find a bus. There had been regular bus stops on the way out but none our side of the road (bizarrely, in the USVIs, they drive on the left but in left hand drive vehicles), so we waited in a lay-by and eventually flagged down a vehicle which took us into town then informed us that she was a taxi ($8, please) and that although buses run west along that road they do not run east. We did a tourist walk round the capital in the morning. Once away from the street of a thousand jewellers, there were some interesting buildings and some real people. We also visited an art gallery dedicated to Camille Pissarro (didn’t know he came from here) and had an interesting chat with the owner about the island. We upped anchor on return and motored the 4 miles round to Brewers bay which is partially enclosed by the airport runway. There were about a dozen yachts there already but all at one end and, having already expended our social skill limit for the day, we chose the other. The bottom was mottled and we assumed that it was, once again, sea grass, but found a large area of sand. As we finished anchoring, a RIB roared over and we wondered if we were in a prohibited area but it was just an American who thought we might be his friends, or might like to become so. On donning snorkelling gear we discovered that the majority of the bottom was in fact coral but that there were a number of abandoned moorings, with submerged buoys, including one 3 metres from our anchor. Few fish about but we managed to entertain ourselves by losing a pillow overboard, searching for and recovering, then rinsing and drying it. We have lost a few things over the side but have been incredibly lucky: a cockpit cushion taken ashore in St Vincent; a dinghy oar found in the mangroves of Grenada and now this.

On the 31^st, we changed not only island, but jurisdiction, heading for Culebra in the Spanish Virgin Islands. Like most people, we were unaware that these even existed: they are part of Puerto Rico, and so administered by The U.S. Once again, information about procedure was hazy. The officials in USVI had told us that customs ‘might appreciate a call’; Elsie had found an internet post stating that they required a phone call at the 3 mile limit so we did this only to be told to call again on arrival. We did this only to get an answering machine. On, eventually, speaking to a human and explaining exactly who we were (nationality, routing, visa status) I was told that I, and I alone, should proceed to the airport (only half a mile away) with documents. Oh no, said the lady there, all crew are required to report. She did, however, do the business and issued me with a cruising permit for Ruby for the next year. We are now good for the SVI’s and adjacent coast of Puerto Rico, but will have to report again when we go to the north or south coasts. She warned me that procedures might well be different there. Back to Ruby and a dig out of charts and books We have about 1200 – 1800 miles to cover in the next 2 months, depending on routing, so some serious planning is required.

Monthly stats

Over ground 549 miles

(log under reading by about 15% - don’t know why)