January 2017

In which we start to explore the cruising grounds of the Caribbean

We started 2017 in the centre of Bridgetown, Barbados. It had been our plan to leave for St Lucia on the 1^st but it dawned on me a couple of days before that, if we were now planning to visit the United States this year, we would need visas and the only convenient place to get them was right here. Accordingly, we went out to anchor at the southern end of Carlisle bay, opposite the Barbados Yacht Club. These friendly people gave us a week’s free membership and even assisted with printing out or appointment details etc. We were really enjoying the ambience of the island and the few days’ delay was no hardship. Every day we took a little tourist trip, be it to a beach along the south coast or a sea cave at the northern tip, all done using the local buses, mainly white minibuses, which seat 15 and do not leave until they are full, or yellow mid-sized vehicles, which have 22 seats and an infinite capacity for standees. Both types are privately operated and, the sooner they reach their destination, the sooner they can start earning again. For a population which is so laid back that they sometimes struggle to reach the horizontal, it is amazing the energy they put into their driving. Fares are fixed at $2:00 ($1:00 US) no matter the distance, so it became a game to see how far we could get on each one.

Sea cave, Barbados

We had our visa interview on the 4^th. Despite a few butterflies during a long wait, this was very straightforward, and we were informed then and there that our applications were granted but we still had to wait for final processing and delivery of our passports to the airport (for some unfathomable reason). The notification of their delivery came at 16:00 on Friday, with the office closing at 17:00 for the weekend. Cue dinghy ashore and the blowing of several weeks worth of bus money on a taxi. We celebrated by going to the ‘Jump-Up’ at Oistins – a weekly event with a huge area of barbecues, dance floors, rum shops and craft stalls. We bagged a couple of seats by the biggest dance floor and had truly excellent fish steaks with breadfruit chips, washed down with rum punches. A memorable evening. We even avoided, by the skin of our teeth, being locked out of the yacht club and forced to walk the couple of miles round to get in.

Elsie, Fort Rodney, St Lucia.

The next leg, to Rodney Bay, was too far to make in a day so we decided to leave on Saturday afternoon, giving us the morning to visit the local museum. Unfortunately, I just missed the harbourmaster, the first stage of booking out and, by the time he had returned, and I had completed the rest of the formalities, the sun was setting so, as a Sunday arrival would mean paying overtime for officials anyway, we decided to stay an extra day. We picked up at 14:30 on the 8^th, put 2 reefs in the main, and had a great beam reach to the northern end of St Lucia, arriving at first light. Rodney Bay is one of those places that every yachtsman has heard of and, as well as pontoon berthing, there is a perfectly sheltered lagoon with mooring buoys costing about £15 per night, so we went straight in and took one of these, with assistance from Neil McCubbin of Milvina, whom we had met in Mindelo and kept in touch with. Our intention was to just stay a couple of nights but the forecast was for the wind to back to northerly later in the week, which makes almost every anchorage on the island uncomfortable, so we procrastinated and ended up staying a week. The procrastination was worsened by my losing my mobile phone, by leaving it on a bus, which, as well as making communications difficult, distracted us from planning. One of the downsides to the Caribbean is that there are places where the locals get aggressive towards cruisers and advice on which areas to avoid fluctuates. Most of the main island of St Vincent is currently advised against and there are adverse reports from parts of St Lucia. Eventually, we came up with a plan and it transpired that everywhere that was on that plan would have also been OK with the northerly swell but possibly, as a consequence, rather crowded.

We didn’t see as much of the island as we should have done, having just one big day out by bus to the southern end, Vieux Fort. This is an old town, pretty much by-passed by tourism. We had a wonderful lunch, including our introduction to the local speciality of rotis and returned by 3 more buses up the opposite side of the island, passing the Pitons and stopping at Soufrier on the way. Buses and local restaurants being very affordable, it would have been a cheap day out, apart from the loss of phone. We had another trip up to the north end, to walk round Pigeon island, which was the shore base for the British navy when contesting the area with the French and went to the Friday night jump-up at the local village, Gros Islet. It was good, but having been spoiled the previous week at Oistins, not the best. We also returned, on Saturday morning, to the Capital, Castries, to look round the cathedral, which is constructed of cast iron, but arrived just as it closed for the day, so just had a walk round the local market instead.

Pigeon Island, St Lucia

We left Rodney Bay at 1330 on the 16th, motoring the 8 miles down to Marigot. This is a picture perfect bay, fringed with palm trees and was the setting for the water snail scene in the original Dr Doolittle film. We had intended to pick up a mooring, but anchored just outside the inner bay instead, just popping ashore in the morning for bread ($EC 7 for 2 rolls) and outward clearance. I think that we were supposed to pay a fee to immigration, but the lady was absent and the customs man, who provides the important paperwork didn’t think there was a problem. From here we motored down past Soufrier and the Pitons, then sailed to Laborie, on the south coast of St Lucia.

Another sunset.

On the 18^th, we picked up at 07:40 and set sail for our next island, St Vincent. We had been told to head straight to the south, as there were security issues in the anchorages down the west coast, including an incident where multiple boarders had attacked a boat owner with machetes. Although badly injured himself, he managed to kill one of the intruders and scare off the others. Accordingly, we sailed down the windward, eastern coast. Just round the bottom corner is Blue Lagoon, a nicely sheltered marina with moorings but with an entrance only just deep enough for us to enter. We headed a mile further west, round the back of Young Island where we found, as expected, Dana De Mer, first encountered in La Linea and in touch since. We spend a couple of sociable days with Jage, Hope and family, just making little trips into Blue lagoon, to book in, and to Kingstown for a little shopping. On Friday 20^th, we made a longer visit to Kingstown, looking round the markets, the two cathedrals and the botanic gardens before lunching in VeeJays, a local restaurant – very good. The 21^st we spent taking a bus ride up to Chateaubelair, on the north-west coast, pausing at Wallilabou bay on the way back. This was the set for Port Royal in ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ and still trades on the memory. Again a good, affordable, lunch. At Jage’s suggestion, we had taken a mooring ball. The first couple of days we were charge $EC 50 for this but the 3^rd and 4^th nights we were not charged. No apparent reason for this as the ‘keeper’ passed us on a daily basis and on our way out. It was time to move islands and, on the 22^nd, we sailed the 7 miles down to Admiralty bay on Bequia, anchoring on the northern side. This was really a ‘scouting’ visit as we wanted to head to Mustique, so we just had a look round the following morning, bumping into the ‘Venture Ladies’ while ashore. I guess that we are going to be doing this more and more as we meet more cruisers.

Basil's bar

I was really excited about going to Mustique. It has the reputation of being the haunt of the rich and famous, from Princess Margaret to Mick Jagger, and being the epitome of luxurious tropical living. The ‘entry fee’ is $EC 200 but, as this entitles you to a 3 day stay on a well maintained mooring (working out at £10 per person per day), this didn’t seem overly expensive when hotel rooms are about £500 per night and villas start at £12,000 per week. There was the added bonus of the annual blues festival being on at Basils, the famous bar ‘where you might bump into Mick J’. We had a pleasant sail across on the 23^rd and were allocated the mooring buoy closest to Basil’s, literally 100 metres away. The water was crystal clear, turtles were grazing on the sea grass beneath us and the coral reef started 100 metres in the other direction. Heaven. We had 2 days of hedonism, spending hours each day snorkelling before dressing in our finest and going ashore to listen to good music and drinking ridiculously overpriced beer. Just like the book says, the clientele is eclectic. About 50% from visiting yachts, albeit mostly charterers rather than cruisers like us; a few well dressed villa or mega-yacht guests and, on the Tuesday night, Jagger himself. We understand that he occasionally gets on stage to sing but didn’t this time, just getting up for a little dance but mostly sitting and studiously avoiding eye contact with the hoi poloi. We were a little disappointed that the ‘festival’ consisted of a house band (though rather good) and the same six artists, performing the same sets each evening. We were also surprised that, apart from the couple of hours when M.J. was present (the jungle drums must have emptied most of the holiday villas), the place was far from packed. The top-of-the-bill artist, Greg Jackson, finished his set on the dance floor with a ring of swaying guests singing Sam Cooke’s seminal civil rights song ‘A change is gonna come’. This was a black man, whose ancestors were probably transported in chains to America, enslaved for generations then grudgingly made second class citizens, aided by 50 white people who had the resources to get themselves by plane or yacht to this rich man’s paradise. And this in the week that the first non-white president of the United States was replaced by a self-proclaimed racist. Am I overly sensitive in finding this just a little bit uncomfortable?

Blues at Basil's

Wednesday nights are usually a jump-up at Basil’s but guessing, rightly, that during the festival it would be the same artists and sets as before, we elected to save ourselves the cover charge and drink prices and enjoy the music from our own cockpit with generously sized rum punches.

On Thursday, our allotted 3 days were up and, after filling with water at the jetty (saving over $EC 200 on Admiralty bay prices, so wiping out our mooring fee!) and a cruise up the north coast to gawp at the Cotton house and the coastal residences, we sailed the 12 miles back to Admiralty bay. Laundry hadn’t been done for several weeks so, as the price was right, we sent a couple of loads ashore with Daffodil. The price was right but the service wasn’t, wasting us a morning waiting for it’s return and involving a little fishing trip to recover a sheet which had blown off our line. We salvaged Friday with a walk round the bay to Princess Margaret beach. On Saturday, we walked across the island and up as far as the road went, Park bay. There is a turtle sanctuary here but our timing was off again and it was closed. We stopped on the way back at the Firefly for a cooling drink and a tour of the gardens, which included sampling many fruits. On Sunday, we decided to cross the bay to see if we could get some internet and have a swim along the reef. Both disappointed: the water was a little cloudy and, although we were opposite Jacks bar our investment in a beer to get the WiFi code didn’t enable us to receive it on board. Fortunately, we lingered long enough over the beer to complete the essentials.

Two hands of banannas

Time for another island swap and on Monday, after a little provisioning, we headed south again. The trades were working well and we had a good sail down, past Canouan, to Mayreau. We missed out Canouan as we had been given negative reports on it – the withdrawal of the Sunsail base has caused a lot of unemployment and a new development at the north end is excluding locals from half of their own island. Our first stop on Mayreau was Salt Whistle Bay. This is picture perfect but small and crowded. Confusion over the legitimacy of laid moorings led to some conflict and we left and headed the mile or down to Saline bay. 90% as pretty and plenty of room. A local ‘boat boy’ who had been recommended to us, took us ashore for a beach barbeque with a huge lobster between us – excellent. On Tuesday, we dinghied ashore and walked up to the top of the island and back. There is supposedly a trail to bring us back down the other side but, coming from the north, we failed to find it which meant that we had to climb the 400 ft to village both ways.

Where's my lunch?

December 2016, part 2 - the crossing

In which we finally cross the Atlantic

On a long passage, days tend to merge and this especially true with trade wind sailing, where similar conditions can persist for days on end. The good bits particularly, where the sails are perfectly set, the motion is comfortable, there is fair weather and either sun or moon to illuminate your world so it is the (hopefully) little things that go wrong that mark the passage of time.

We left Mindelo pretty much to plan at 1030 on the 13^th December, pausing only to top up the fuel tank. 17 litres is all that it took: not bad for 4 weeks, over a thousand miles and 7 harbours entered and left. Our passage planning tool told us that we could expect to take 13 – 14 days to cross to Barbados; we reckoned that 15-17 was more realistic but with full tanks and plenty of food 3 weeks would not be a problem. The forecast wind for the first week was from a good direction, NNE, but a little stronger than we would have liked, 20-25 knots rather than our hoped for 15-20. Since there are always periods where the actual wind is significantly higher than forecast, it meant that we could expect 30 knots, a near gale, for much of the time and to say that Elsie was relaxed about it would be overstating the case somewhat.

The winds were forecast to be a little lighter south of track so we decided to head off south-westerly. On Jimmy Cornell’s advice, we hoisted the main before leaving the shelter of Mindelo harbour. As the strait between the islands is a known wind acceleration zone, we made it as small as possible with 3 reefs in. Since we would be downwind, we needed the whisker pole rigged, to keep the headsail full so we rigged this on the starboard side and put out half the genoa. Once clear of obstacles, we put the main to that side also and set a course of 235 degrees. Two French yachts, which had left in the preceding hour, took a more direct heading, under the lee of San Antao island and we took a slightly childish delight in watching as their speed dropped off and we overhauled them. Later that evening, as we concluded that we were clear of the acceleration zone and shook out the 3^rd reef, we passed a large catamaran under just a small jib heading the same way as us but making less than 5 knots compared to our 6+. While cats may sit more comfortably at anchor than monohulls, their motion in a seaway looks worse and we didn’t envy them if they were expecting to continue at this speed and take over 3 weeks to cross.

We settled into our, by now, familiar routine: Elsie keeping the 12 – 6 watch and I the 6 – 12. Watch changes at midnight and 6 AM tend to be brief and businesslike as the off-going watch-keeper has bed as a priority; those at mid-day and 6 PM are more social. We have lunch at 1 and dinner at 7. Breakfast, for me, is at 8 and we snack at intervals through the watch, not only for sustenance but to break the hours up. A piece of fruit, a cereal bar or a couple of chocolate digestives make a nice little punctuation to a 6 hour night watch.

We thought that we had prepared Ruby well for the crossing but the following morning revealed an error. All shackles are moused: that is, they have a piece of locking wire, or a cable tie, through a hole on the end of the pin and round the main part of the shackle to prevent it working loose. Two that I had neglected were on the whisker pole, where the up-haul and guys attach. These were permanently fitted, had been for at least 3 years and were probably welded in place by corrosion. Not so. A cry from Elsie in the small hours brought me from my bunk. The pole had dropped and the spinnaker halyard, which had been supporting it, could not be seen in the dark. We furled most of the genoa and I went forward to bring in the pole. Not the easiest of jobs as there was a good swell rolling and pitching us and the end of the pole was dipping into the sea, which was passing us at 6 knots. Pole in and secured, it was seek-the-halyard time. Rather than blowing free, as I feared, it had caught round a stay and I was able to capture it. Unfortunately, it had also been caught up n the genoa as we furled it and had to be freed, which entailed Elsie slacking it out while I dodged the flailing canvas and ropes, pulling the halyard in what I hoped was the right direction. Eventually, I managed to get everything connected and re-installed with a new shackle, properly moused. The entire operation took about an hour, of which the actual mousing occupied about 30 seconds.

Rolling down the Trades

We continued on a broad reach until 18:00 on the 14^th, when I judged that we had made sufficiently to the south. The main was brought over to the port side and very well secured with a preventer, so that if the wind should get on the wrong side of it, it would not slam across to starboard. We were now on a nearly dead down-wind run. This is always a delicate balance but, with a big following swell, it became a real challenge. Passing swells would catch the stern, pushing it one way or the other. If we yawed to starboard, the wind could get on the wrong side of the genoa. This would rapidly push us back on course but, as it re-caught the wind on the correct side it would fill with a bang, putting unwanted stress on sail, ropes and rigging. Yaw too far to port and it is the main that gets back-winded. While the combination of tight preventer and sheet stop the boom from moving, geometry means the sail will tend to push you even further off course. In a strong wind this could have very serious consequences, with an increased apparent wind causing a broach. Experimentation showed that setting the auto-pilot to an apparent wind angle of starboard 160 risked the former; starboard 165 the latter. S162 it was then and so it remained for several days.

With the starboard side of the main now visible from the cockpit, the following morning I observed that, on shaking out the 3^rd reef, we had caught the lazy jack with the end of the top batten and idly wondered if it would cause any chafe. I concluded not as both parts were moving together and it was canvas against soft rope. We would, in any event free it easily when we put the 3^rd reef back in, which we expected to do the following day when stronger winds were forecast. Again, my laziness caught me out. 30 hours later, another cry from Elsie again dragged me from my bunk. The lazy jack had parted and the sail bag was flapping wildly. 30 minutes of struggle secured it to the boom and I was able to remove the lower sections of lazy jack. The upper part had wrapped itself round the radar head and could not be freed. We judged that the wind was now increasing sufficiently to put the 3^rd reef back in and did so. I then noticed that the upper part of the lazy jack had wrapped itself round the main halyard and looked as though it would prevent any further lowering of the sail or it being raised higher than the 2^nd reef. No way of sorting this, without going up the mast and that was out of the question in the prevailing conditions. Nothing to do but keep it tight to prevent it wrapping any further and hope that it freed itself. Fortunately, a couple of hours later, it did so and I was able to now pull it from the radar head. Another salutary lesson.

We continued on the ‘goose-winged’ run for a further 3 days, making excellent progress, making over 180 miles (7.5 knots) on two consecutive days. On the 19^th we had got as far south as we needed (10:48 N) and brought the genoa over to the same, port, side as the main. Again we steered by the wind, this time on S135, to keep us heading as nearly west as possible. The almost constant wind direction, 075, enabled us to track 280, with just a daily look at the weather to confirm that we could continue as we were for another 24 hours. On the afternoon of the 23^rd we were on a level with our destination and changed back to goose winged, shaking out the 3^rd reef for the first time in a week. It had been kept in as, although we had not been hit by any line squalls, which we were cautioned against, there were frequent showers with gust fronts giving 30 – 35 knots of wind. The genoa had to be reefed for this so we were reefing and un-reefing 2-3 times per watch. In general, the weather was a disappointment: we had envisaged days in the sun, rolling gently to a lazy following swell; instead, we had overcast skies, showers with gusts and a confused swell, frequently peaking at over 5 metres. When caught properly these could give an exhilarating ride with speeds in excess of 10 knots. One which gave us 12.9 knots was the cue to put our week long 3^rd reef in. we never were able to read the swells – we would see a large, straight one, approaching and anticipate a sleigh ride – nothing. 10 minutes later, a seemingly innocuous one from a slightly different direction would roll us through 50 degrees, causing the sails to slam. It wasn’t until the 23^rd that we had a day, and most of a night, with clear skies and steady winds. And then the showers were back.

I saw a Japanese fishing boat on the second night out and then no other vessels or lights until the afternoon of the 24^th, when a crossing tanker had to alter course by 15 degrees to pass behind us.

First ship for 10 days

Of wildlife, we saw quite a few dolphins (mainly Atlantic spotted, we believe) various seabirds and hoards of flying fish. Occasionally, these would land on board, though they often managed to flop off again. They make good eating, tasting much like fresh sardines and, being a similar size to these, 3 or 4 make a good lunch. I did replace my fishing lure, lost on the way down to Cape Verdes, before departure but reckoned that trying to land a decent sized fish would be hazardous in the prevailing conditions so never tried it out. Our food stocks were sufficiently good that, although a fish dish would be good, we had plenty of quantity and variety without. On the 4^th day, we passed through a large area of moss-like weed and passed further, smaller, patches in the following days.

What was in short supply was sleep. Elsie is a good sleeper (though not at anchor, for some reason) but I always have difficulty sleeping during the day. We had hoped that, once into a watch-keeping routine, my body would adapt but this did not happen and so I had to make do with the 4-5 hours that I got during the night, leaving me on the verge of exhaustion for much of the voyage and taking away much of the pleasure. We did try shifting watches a little, to give me extra night hours but this then impinged on Elsie’s sleep, risking both of us being in an exhausted state. We managed on this voyage, but this is a comparatively easy crossing; it has given us pause to think about further long voyages and to consider whether we need a third watch-keeper on board

A wind shift on the 24^th caused us to put both sails to port again, this time without the pole on the genoa and we continued on this broad reach, with an apparent wind angle of S120, all the way to Barbados. The Island was sighted on the morning of the 26^th and we dropped anchor in Carlisle Bay at 1050 local time. With our route taking us to the south, actual distance sailed was 2150 miles, at an average speed of 6.8 knots.

On the beach at Bridgetown

Barbados time is 3 hours behind that of Cape Verdes. To avoid confusing our body clocks, we had only put our clocks back one of these and saved up 2 hours of for arrival. This meant that on the night of the 26^th we were able to go to bed at 22:00, rise at 06:00 and still get 10 hours sleep. How good was that!

We knew that the facilities for yachts at Bridgetown had recently been improved but did not have details or contact numbers. We failed to make any progress on how to get in on the 27^th but finally tracked down the relevant person on the 28^th. We had a choice of a fairly easily accessed harbour on the northern edge of the town or passing through a lifting bridge to tie up right in the centre. We opted for the latter and spent the rest of the year being watched over by the statue of Elliot Barrow, first prime minister, in Independence Square. The square had been decorated with Christmas trees by local schools, each dedicated to a different Commonwealth country. ‘Ours’ was dedicated to Zambia and drew much attention from passers by – well done, St George Secondary.

"Our" tree

While alongside, we took a daily tour. First was to the Mount Gay rum centre where we managed the tour, including tasting 6 varieties, on an empty stomach. We could definitely get a taste for their product, especially the Black Barrel and XO. Our second tour was by local bus to an old plantation house. Elsie had checked the day before which bus we wanted and its departure time. By the time we had done our morning shop (not easy – if we don’t want to spend a fortune on food, we are going to have to eat more like the locals) we only had 2 minutes before it departed. Never mind there was another in an hour. 45 minutes later we were told that no, not that one, we wanted the one that was just disappearing. Another 45 minutes. No, says the driver, but my mate next door will drop you. He did, after going round every housing road in the south east of the island. We thought that the journey out, on a ‘corporation’ bus was exciting, as it raced round tiny country roads. We had never seen a driver hanging onto a grab handle for the bends before. The return, on a privately operated vehicle made it seem tame. There were 22 seats but 40+ passengers and a conductor who hung out of the open door and crammed more customers in at every stop. As the bus got fuller, the speed went up and the music got louder. No time to collect fares on entering as they race to get into a cab-rank queue back at Bridgetown.

We were planning a further bus trip to the north end of the island on the 31^st when it dawned on me that, if we changed our plans and stayed on the western side of the Atlantic for a year or so, we would need American visas and the only place we could get them was here. A frustrating morning of pounding keys and trying to come up with acceptable answers to questions aimed at more conventional travellers eventually resulted in completed applications and appointments for interview on the 4^th January. We ended 2016 by strolling down to the beach for a last dip of the year and returning to Ruby for a punch or 3 made from our newly acquired rum.

Monthly stats:

logged             2268

over ground     2297

Annual stats:

logged            10349

over ground    10193