February 2017

In which we get to Grenada and start the long voyage north

 We started February at anchor in Saline bay, Mayrou. We were excited and apprehensive. Excited because the next stop was going to be Tobago Cays, one of those picture perfect destinations that sold us on the idea of sailing away in the first place and apprehensive because such destinations are so often a disappointment when you actually get there because either they only look good if you stand with your back to the council estate (not mentioning any specific Scottish castle) or they are so packed with tourists that any charm is lost in discarded McDonald packaging. As it was only a short hop, into wind with some reefs to negotiate, we didn’t even consider sailing and just motored. Five years earlier we would have looked askance at anyone doing this but we are like people in the second year of owning a convertible who are prepared to leave the top on when rain is forecast.

Jamesby in Tobago Cays. The perfect tropical island?

We threaded our way past a sailing passenger ship and a mega motor cruiser to the prime anchorage. Amazing: not only were there vacant mooring buoys, there was room for us to anchor clear of them. Even more amazing was that it was just as we had pictured it with aquamarine water, coconut tree fringed islands and nothing between us and Africa but a coral reef and three thousand miles of Ocean. As we finished tidying up, a turtle surfaced and gave us a nod before diving back for a nibble of sea grass. We spent a blissful 3 days here, with Elsie popping her head up at frequent intervals and reporting that yes, the sea really was that colour and the reef was still there. Each day, we went for a little dinghy ride to stroll along one of those palm fringed beaches and have a little snorkel swim round its shore. We also did our bit for the local economy by buying a loaf of bread or a little fruit at vastly inflated prices.

And the only footprints were ours. 

Tobago Cays, with Ruby on the left.

On the 4^th we decided that it was time to move on and see a few more islands. First, we made the short hop down to Union island, anchoring at Clifton for a couple of hours while we did a bit of provisioning and then heading round the south coast. The intention was to stop in the lee of Frigate island, only a couple of miles further on, so we didn’t bother hoisting the sails. On arrival, we changed our minds and continued round to Chatham bay, another beautiful anchorage with just a few beach bars. More lazing in hammock, reading, swimming etc. with the odd dinghy ashore for a stroll on the beach. On our second afternoon, a sailing passenger ship, Wind Song, arrived. One of the beach bars set up barbecue, a small steel band and a couple of souvenir stalls and the passengers were ferried ashore for their hour of ‘doing Union Island’. Although a few of them strolled the length of the beach, not a cent was spent elsewhere to the obvious distress of the other vendors. Fortunately a few of the yacht cruisers did spread the custom around later. After 2 nights, it was time to move on again. We had to check out of the St Vincent Grenadines at Clifton and decided to complete our circumnavigation of Union by sailing round the north side. We hoisted the main but the wind, as could have been predicted, veered as we motored round, managing to be directly in our faces until we had only a mile to go. We reckoned that we had burned as much fuel going round this small island as we had crossing the Atlantic. Having completed formalities, we continued our motoring tour, crossing the few miles to Petit St Vincent, a private island where the rich and discrete go to unwind. We anchored off for lunch but while one is allowed to land, the hoi poloi is confined to one (very well groomed) beach and one (no doubt astronomically expensive) bar, so we made the one mile international voyage to Petit Martinique, anchoring off the village. There is a pier where one can take water at reasonable charge but it looked a bit exposed in the current weather and we didn’t want to shred our fenders so we postponed going alongside until the following morning. We did dinghy ashore for a stroll and a little provisioning and discovered that the following day was independence day and that everything, including the water pier, would be closed. Oh, well.

Passenger ship setting sail into the sunset.

On the 7^th, we did manage a sail, downwind to Carriacou. We also managed to land our first fish caught while sailing. Heaving to to land it proved no problem but I managed to tangle the line in doing so, giving Elsie a fine entertainment in sorting it. While it wasn’t exactly big game, Albert the Albacore was just the right size for a fish supper for two and was remarkably easy to fillet so Elsie is now encouraging for fishing under way to be a regular activity. Even on Independence Day, booking in at Tyrell Bay was simple and free of overtime charge and we had a pleasant stroll along the beach to round off the day. It was time to get close to my departure point for my periodic journey to Scotland, so we moved off the following morning and had a fine sail down the eastern, windward side of Grenada entering one of the many sheltered bays on the southern side, Clarkes Court, anchoring off Whisper Cove.

The old man of the sea with his fish.

The south of Grenada is cruiser central. There are many anchorages, all well sheltered from the trade winds; each with dinghy docks, affordable restaurants, WiFi, and travelling salesmen providing everything from bread to beer to gas re-fills. There is a ‘cruisers’ net’ radio schedule every morning giving weather, social information, small ads for boaters and service companies and AOB. There are shopping buses every couple of days to take one to good supermarkets and excellent hardware stores and chandleries. Each bay has its habitués, many of them of many years standing, doing small maintenance jobs and planning voyages that might, or might not, happen. Our first contact with a ‘local’ was as we dropped anchor at whisper cove. As we picked our spot, an ancient, hairy and naked man appeared on his deck and told us that we shouldn’t presume to come so close to established residents (not his exact words!). This put Elsie off her timing and we did end up a bit closer than ideal to another boat but, by Mediterranean standards, there was loads of room. I took advantage of the net, the following morning, to advertise the 45 meters of surplus anchor chain that we had been carrying since the Canary Islands. This was quickly snapped up with the result that renewing (and increasing to 70 meters) has cost about 15% that expected!

Elsie was going to be left on her own for 10 days and the original plan was for her, and Ruby, to be alongside in a marina. With the security of the anchorages and her growing confidence in Rubette (the dinghy) we were now considering leaving her at anchor. As I was transferring my surplus chain, however, we met a recommended mooring owner and negotiated a good rate for using that so a middle way was found. We hadn’t been to a marina for over a month though and we decided to go in for one night to fill with water and give the house batteries a good charge. Our fee also included use of an excellent swimming pool and a book exchange. We took the shopping bus in to town on the Friday morning and got very excited with the shops, spending rather more than we should have on fresh food and hardware. Off to our new mooring that afternoon and a long relax before my flight home on Saturday / Sunday.

Elsie writes:

February was a month full of opposites and contrasts. The 1^st February was spent in the natural splendour of Tobago Cays by the 9^th we were attached to a mooring buoy in Mount Hartman Bay surrounded by three or four dozen other boats. Some had been there a very long time, others, like us, were just passing through. Grenada is a very convenient stop for flying visits back to the UK or just a well earned rest before the hard beat back North. Mount Hartman Bay is very sheltered and surrounded by a mangrove swap so it is an approved hurricane hole for insurance purposes. This is a very important fact as winter progresses to spring and summer for yachties and there is a huge live board community in the South of Grenada, some are permanent liveaboards but others come out during the winter to escape the cold weather at home. I can see the attractions although the place is quite isolated if you don’t have you own transport. The nearest bus stop is about a half hours walk away although some bus drivers do deliver you to the marina for $10 EC which is about £3. It sometimes works out to their advantage as the time we did it, he must have picked up a few fares going the other way. To explain, the buses are all privately run and there are no bus timetables which must make hospital appointments a hit or miss sometimes. You basically wait at a bus stop for the next bus or if you are walking along a country road the bus will sound the horn and you put out your hand if you want to get on. They are regulated at the bus station but only move when they are full which could mean there is a wait of over half an hour. To stop a bus the passengers knock on the bus roof and shout next stop or words to that affect. We are so used to them now we think nothing of the stops and starts and detours the buses make. Some even pick up packages and deliver them to houses or shops.

Grenada had been hurricane free for many years until Hurricane Ivan hit followed very quickly by Hurricane Emily. The devastation can still be seen in the high rain forests with huge gaps where the trees were tumbled just like dominoes and most agriculture is now growing cocoa beans instead of nutmeg. The hurricanes wiped out 80% of the nutmeg trees on the island and as it takes about twenty years for a tree to mature the farmers had resorted to growing cocoa, which is – in my humble opinion – far better for the world as it means there will be far more superior dark chocolate to eat. Yum Yum!!!!

Mount Hartman Bay was where I was being left, on my own, in charge while Li went for his four monthly visit to see nice Mr Lowe. Now, I have sailed as first mate for almost three years on Ruby Tuesday and know her as well as the skipper but to be left in charge was an entirely new thing. What would I get up to? Would I single hand sail to Trinidad and Tobago and enjoy the Mardi Gras or maybe take on a young and virile new first mate and sail to Columbia and back. Or would I just enjoy the piece and tranquillity of the bay with little soirées ashore every now and again to explore some of Grenada? You guessed correctly. I spent the ten days the skipper was away cleaning Ruby, buying provisions, washing clothes and exploring some of Grenada. However, before he went and left me I had to prove (quite rightly) that I could dock the dingy in the marina and back on the boat, securely lift and lock the dingy back onto Ruby at night and switch on the mooring light so no one bumped into Ruby in the dark. The last item was the most taxing as it had to be done as the sun disappeared over the horizon and I kept on forgetting. I must confess one night it was switched on at 3am as I suddenly woke up remembering I hadn’t switched it on that evening.

My days were spent cleaning and wandering ashore for little walks around the many coves and bays in the south of Grenada. On the Wednesday I took the bull by the horns and blagged a lift on the free bus to the island chandlers. I wandered about the shop for what I thought was an appropriate time then told the bus driver that I couldn’t find what I needed and I would walk into town and get my own way back. He was surprisingly relaxed about the whole thing. Thank goodness. I strolled into the middle of George Town, walking past the upmarket marina Port Louis and around the carenage to the bus station where I got on a North going bus. I had no idea where I would end up but hey, mystery tours are good. The bus route followed the west coast through Gouyae where I noticed they had a fish fry on a Friday night, to Victoria which looked like a sizeable town. But it was going on so I decided so was I. It wound it’s way through picturesque countryside with glimpses of sandy beaches every now and again. As the bus approached the North coast it went inland through tall forests of greenery until we reached Sauteurs, a town right on the north coast where the bus terminated. This was a little town with a sandy wild beach with rollers breaking, not much to see, no touristy things but a glimpse of the lives of Grenadians that are not hampered by foreigners getting in their way. I had a good look around and had some lunch then caught another bus back to George Town. However, this journey was not as peaceful as a young lady took umbridge at an old man who wouldn’t move over to let her sit beside him. The argument went on for about an hour until the man got off then she was still bumping her gums to anyone that would listen. THEN, the bus driver made an unscheduled detour and stop to buy something from an out of way shop. The bus erupted. People were demanding him to get back on the road, I think as although English is spoken they speak a broken English to each other. It could be likened to Doric, which only the Aberdonians understand. THEN to add insult to injury, someone asked him to get something for them at the said out of the way shop. Oh dear, no punches were thrown but there was a lot of unhappy people on that bus going back to George Town. The poor driver got abuse all the way there but he just smiled and laughed. Whatever he bought at that out of the way shop made him mighty happy!!!!!

That was my one and only solo trip into the wilds of Grenada. I thought I would leave the chocolate plantation and rum distillery till Li got back.

My ten days of sole charge of Ruby was a resounding success. I managed to get back and forward to the dock and didn’t do any damage although it was a bit lonely and I was very happy to see the old man back. This journey is a fantastic adventure but much better with the two of us.

One trip that I asked Elsie to save until my return was to the local chocolate factory. We had sampled some of its product and I was keen to see it from tree to bar so, after a day to recover from my 22 hour journey back from Edinburgh, we set off for the grand tour. Booking by ‘phone, we were asked to assure that we could arrive by 10 AM. Shouldn’t be a problem. Elsie’s research into buses paid off but, even with a 7:30 start and a helpful lift to the first bus stop, a long wait at Georgetown (no-one else was heading out of town at that time in the morning) meant that we were 5 minutes late. As we were the only clients, it wasn’t really an issue.

Cocoa pod

Elsie turning the beans.

The tour was really enlightening. The whole process is run as a cottage industry, with the trees effectively growing wild on the hillsides mixed with many other species, including several spices. It is a continuous crop, with blossom and ripe fruit being simultaneously present on the same tree. The ripe, orange, pods are cut down by hand and have to be carried in baskets to the nearest road, often a significant distance. The extracted beans, covered in a sweet mucus, are placed in compost bins for 6 days to ferment, being turned every 2 days, before being turned out onto large, rail mounted, flat trays to dry in the sun. Here, they are pedally turned every 30 minutes and pushed under shelter if rain threatens. After a further 6 days, they are ready to go to the factory. This turns out to be the size of modest house, with 19^th century machinery and practice. They are hand sorted to remove any loose shells, stones etc. then roasted in small batches before being winnowed then pressed to separate the solids from the butter. Depending on orders, they are then mixed with other ingedients, including salt, sugar and nibs (splinters of unpressed bean) or just left as 100 % cocoa. The mixture is then heated to temper it and poured into moulds. The finished bars are tuned out and wrapped by hand, using paintbrushes to remove any surplus, and glue sticks to seal the paper wrappers.

World's smallest chocolate factory?

We finished the tour with an excellent lunch back at the estate including, naturally including chocolate with every course. Who knew that it could go so well with fried goat cheese or barbecued chicken? All washed down with banana, coconut and chocolate shake. Our ‘party bag’ include bars of 5 of the six products (missing out only on the 100% bar).

Cocoa presses.

Time to start heading north again as our current plan is to be in the Chesapeake bay area by 1^st June. This is about 2500 miles to go in 3 months. Not a vast distance but there are many things to see on the way. Our first leg, on the 23^rd, was 11 miles up the west coast of Grenada to Moliniere bay, where there is an underwater sculpture park. There are about 15 life sized human sculptures, including individual figures and circles over a couple of acres of shallow sea bed, amongst natural reefs. We took a mooring buoy in the next bay up then dingied round for me to snorkel round this (unfortunately one is not allowed to park ones yacht here, there are no land-able beaches and we couldn’t find a way for Elsie to board the dinghy from the water, so she missed out). Sadly, the unusual swell caused by unseasonal winds had stirred up the water which was rather cloudy so even I failed to find half the statues. Maybe we will go back and take a tourist trip one day.

On the 24^th, we sailed back to Tyrell bay on Carriacou. It was carnival time and, after our experience in La Gomera last year, we hoped that a small island would provide similar delights. Not much seemed to be happening over the weekend, so we concentrated on maintenance tasks. Elsie had cleaned the interior while I was away and now it was my turn for the bottom. Our anti-fouling, supposedly good for many years, was becoming ineffective. If we hauled out, I was undecided whether to use the last of the previous product (we still had 10 litres from a 25 litre tin) or something more appropriate to local conditions. I decided to try a good scrape and scrub in the water so spent 2 afternoons, first with snorkel and then with my little SCUBA pack and managed to get it 95% clean. We will see how long that lasts.

On the Monday, our timing for the carnival was well out. Our only information had come from a local and I had half recalled that Tuesday’s parade was scheduled for 2PM and that Monday was 2 hours different so we got to town for mid-day. It transpired that, after an all night party, the equivalent of La Gomera’s talcum parade occurs at 5 in the morning but using charcoal instead. The wreckage, in human and glass and polystyrene form was just being cleared away with the next scheduled event, the children's’ parade, being scheduled for 3 PM. Back to Ruby for lunch and a second attempt. By now the weather had turned and, with frequent showers no-one was making the decision to start, with participants lurking in various bars, shops, under verandas and anywhere else they could find shelter. We alternately sheltered, wandered and lurked. At about 4, a couple of splinter groups started their own parades, behind trucks pumping out kilowatts of music but it was all a little sad. The participants were either very young or beyond middle age, the in between ages having, presumably, exhausted themselves in the earlier celebrations. I suppose it is the same phenomenon as our familiar highland games, still taken seriously by the old and young but passed over by those in between in favour of the nightly marquee dances. We had intended to stay for Tuesday but, with similar weather forecast, we decided to continue north.

It was less than 40 miles to our next stop, Admiralty bay on Bequia and, with the wind forecast to be just north of east at 15 – 20 knots, it shouldn’t have been too challenging. Close hauled, but easily managed in a day. We had to book out, so I was at the port office soon after 8, while Elsie prepared Ruby for the day. Predictably, there was a delay with the paperwork (yesterday’s figures hadn’t added up) and we didn’t get away until past 9. With 2 reefs in, we made good progress to start with, though the wind was from further north than forecast. Even with a little cross current helping us to the east, we were pushed of course and had to put a 30 minute tack in to close the northern point of Union Island. The wind now increased to nearer 25 knots making progress uncomfortable and wet. It did veer round later but, by this time the cross current had changed and was now pushing us to the west. With 90 minutes to sunset, we still had 10 miles to go, almost directly into wind, so it was time to start the engine. We tried motor sailing – good progress but very uncomfortable, so the last 5 miles we just motored arriving at the anchorage in the last of the light and, fortunately, finding a good spot to drop the hook and wind down. The day confirmed our prejudice against sailing into wind and, unfortunately, the forecast was for more of the same in the coming days. We went to bed with no definite plans for progress.

Monthly stats:

Logged              136
Over ground      145

Elsie's January

It’s been more than a month now since we dropped anchor in Carlisle Bay after our epic Atlantic crossing and I think we have both recovered. Since we are starting to talk about moving onwards and upwards instead of heading home we must have! I’m still not sure about tackling the Pacific but never say never….

Sea cave, Barnbados

First impressions of the Caribbean are all positive. We read all the books and listened to everyone else's opinion before we came. Some were positive, some negative and a few very negative. We have found the area fantastic, almost everything you would ever want for a sailing environment. The prices could be cheaper, but that is really down to us. We must learn to eat what the locals eat. All European style food has to be imported so it is very expensive. The fruit and vegetables vary so much from place to place and it is difficult to keep them fresh so you either buy what you need for that day which is no hardship as the markets are great fun and the sellers get to know you and there is always some banter. Or you buy produce that is not quite ripe or ready to eat which we have found can be hit or miss. How long does it take a pineapple to ripen? Breadfruit is a fantastic vegetable. We try to buy it ready roasted as it saves time and money. Leave it in the fridge and slice off what you need for whatever you are cooking. Sliced, fried and covered in soy sauce makes a good sundowner snack. Plantain is another versatile vegetable/fruit, not sure which one it is. Plantain chips have become a firm favourite on this boat.

Friday Fish fry, Oistins

The local food is mostly fish and rice with lots of peas and pulses thrown in. All the sauces are hot hot hot but delicious and herbs and spices are used extensively. I thought about trying to buy a cook book with local cuisine but they make the recipes very complicated. The best way is to ask a stall holder at the market how they would cook something, there are always a few variations from others but you will get the gist of it and always remember to go back and compliment them on their recipe, it’s only human nature to enjoy being thanked. In Bequia there is a particular lady who makes the best banana bread (without walnuts) I have tasted in a long time. I went back to pay a compliment to her and the smile I received lit up my day.

Rodney Bay anchorage

Each island we have visited has been the same in some respects but entirely different in others. After trying to work out why we have come to the conclusion it is the people. Every island has given has a friendly welcome and most people will go out of their way to help with any directions or queries but it is the way they do it.

The Bajans are always laughing, they can be having a huge argument and they still smile. They are wonderful laid back happy people. Nothing is done in a hurry and they like to talk first and do later. “Island time”. How many times have we heard that in Barbados? As long as you go with the flow you get things done at a leisurely pace with a happy smile. Everyone likes to chat and not necessarily about what you have asked. Barbados is the best introduction a person could have to this area. We were told by a guide at the Washington House that the reason for these happy people is when the slave ships made it over the Atlantic, Barbados was the first landfall and the plantation owners got the pick of the captives. They chose the placid, docile ones and that still shows in the Bajans today. They can still make a rumpus and definitely know how to party but it’s their sunny dispositions that leave the lasting memory. I loved Barbados, maybe it was the joy of eventually reaching land and realising that the world hadn’t ended in those 13 days we were at sea!!! No, it was the people. They were happy with their lot, full of life and fantastic fun. If it doesn’t get done today tomorrow will do. There is a lot of people could learn something from their attitude.

Our introduction to St Lucia was maybe the reason I started calling it “Little England” which was rather unfair. Once the tourist bit of the island is left behind it is a beautiful place with good people. Rodney Bay is definitely built as an extension of The Empire. It is a huge anchorage, marina and a beautiful lagoon with mooring buoys so it caters to all purses. The mooring lagoon is surrounded by new colonial type houses with manicured lawns and a slip at the bottom of the garden where the owner can park their boat or boats. It gives the impression of sahibs and memsahibs dressed in white, sipping cold gin cocktails on their terraces, meeting for a game of croquet or bridge in the afternoons. There are more southern English accents here than in the south of England. Jealous, I here you cry, na, not me. Yes, some of their yachts were nice to look at and their houses looked wonderful but I don’t think me blasting out Dark Side of the Moon at midnight would have fitted in. The surrounding area caters for this clientele. The upside of this is the supermarkets have fresh meat and English branded food, Waitrose to name one. The down side was it was very expensive to buy anything. The locals were friendly but I got the impression there is a lot of resentment about what they have and what the incomers have so sometimes help was given grudgingly, although an American who tried to help us off the fuel/water dock was lucky to escape with his life when he let go a line which he was specifically told to leave alone. Poor man. It does take a lot to rile the Captain but when he gets his dander up look out!! I think instructions were lost in translation.

Pitons, St Lucia

As I said before once outside the main tourist drag St Lucia changed into a wonderful, wild island. Rain forests, waterfalls, The Pitons and many many walking tracks. Our excursion down to the south of the island was eye opening. It changed my perception of a tropical island, the place is so lush and green and very very picturesque. We stopped for a meal in Vieux Fort, right down on the south coast. Wandering along the back streets, which was very adventurous according to some of our acquaintances, we saw a restaurant advertising rotis. The only way to describe a roti is a Cornish pasty with filo pastry and the filling is somewhat hotter and spicier, yummy. We hadn’t tried them yet so in we went. Random choices sometimes come up trumps and this one was a hidden gem. We ended up with a three course lunch for the price of a roti. The owner did the cooking and the rest of the family, that wasn’t living in Florida, helped. Lovely people who would do anything for you. We got their life story then caused a family disagreement by asking what was the “must see” on St Lucia. Even the locals can’t agree what is the islands best natural asset.

Even when the captain tried to report his lost phone to the police we were met with a laughing policeman. He thought it was hilarious that we assumed anyone who found an iPhone, no matter how old and knackered it was, would hand it into the police station. He was correct. Looking around us we saw happy people living from hand to mouth with an entrepreneurially spirit which dictates seize the chance and if that means finders keepers so be it. Every article and everyone warns about boat boys and their aggressive, sometimes threatening, behaviour. Yes, the boat boys are there and they do try to sell you things or help you moor or anchor but a firm “no thank you” worked for us. We were polite and had many a conversation with them but they always took our answer on board and left us politely. These lads and lasses are trying to make a living. We found that the food we did buy was inferior and far more expensive than in a market but it saves you the sometimes inconvenient journey to said market and it also shows willing to contribute some EC$s to their economy and some of the conversations we have had with them have been down right hilarious. Yes, St Lucia is a wonderful, picturesque place. Most of the people are good but I could sense a resentment in some of them. They would take the money quite happily but I personally think they didn’t like being lorded over by “rich”, as they seemed to perceive boaties, Europeans. Maybe a lesson to be learnt, always remember you are a guest and should be thankful for the hospitality offered by your hosts.

Baby coconut tree, St Vincent.

Now we move onto St Vincent and The Grenadines. We thought long and hard about going to St Vincent. We listened carefully to the advice given, weighed the pros and cons then held our noses and jumped. The deciding factor was meeting up with Dana de Mer again or Dana International as we like to call her. We first saw them while we were racing from Majorca to Ibiza. They are a catamaran so go faster down wind than us until we put up the cruising chute, that shut them up. They have never let us forget how we “cheated”.We first met in La Linea and have met up now and again throughout the past year. It’s amazing how many boats you keep meeting up with again and again on your travels. The world is indeed a small place. It was time for a social evening or two. Going with everyone’s advice we headed for Blue Lagoon in the south of St Vincent but we ended up moored on a buoy in Young Island, a wonderful scenic place. If you ever want to stay on a tropical desert island but can’t be bothered with the inconvenience try Young Island resort. It will cost an arm and a leg though but desert islands don’t come cheap these days. The social interaction was very agreeable and we got news of one or two others that were mutual friends. The Captain has a lunch date with a very beautiful young Canadian, whom we met with Dana de Mar in The Canaries, on his next trip to ARI. As I said the world is a very small place.

Young Island resort, St Vincent

St Vincent has a reputation of a lot of crime against boaties so everything has to be locked away, hatches locked and our solar powered security lights were used in earnest. The dingy has to be locked by substantial chain and padlock to the dock when going ashore and nothing left in it. We followed all the advice and had no losses. However the night after we left Young Island a yacht was boarded when the crew was ashore for a meal and electronic equipment was stolen so maybe someone was looking after us this time. St Vincent gave me the impression of a working island with only a few concessions for tourists. In fact, a passenger off one of the many cruise liners which dock in Kingstown told me it was “the pits”. I wouldn’t go that far. The Captain and I have decided we want T shirts made up that read “No, we didn’t come off that almighty cruise ship, so give us that for the local price please” That about sums up Kingstown. Dirty, noisy full of bustling people trying to make a living. Some are better at it than others. If you want to see the real Caribbean, go there. I am glad we went to St Vincent but I won’t hurry back.

Bar, Mayrou

Now we come to The Grenadines. I do not know where to start describing these beautiful gems so I won’t. Come and see it for yourself. Tiny islands with hills and valleys and hidden deserted beaches. Some are pristine, Mustique and Palm Island others are more natural, Bequia and Mareau and then to crown it all Tobago Cays. I am sitting in the middle of The Cays right this moment writing. It is very windy and rain clouds are blown in every few hours but even then I still have to go up on deck to cruisers alike. Food is more expensive than on the mainland, that’s what they call St Vincent, but to have this back drop as you are eating lunch makes it well worth it. The cost to anchor here is EC$10 per person per day, that’s about £3. They have made this marvel at the scenery. Yes, it’s still all there. It is probably the most beautiful place I have ever visited…….so far. The people have learnt that the tourist dollar makes a difference to their quality of life so it’s service with a smile. They accept us, maybe don’t like the intrusion on their paradise but see the value of charter boats and area into a National Park and there are many rules and regulations which as far as I can see no one takes any notice of. Swimming is a dangerous sport out here. The speed limit is 6 knots. I have never seen a kite or wind surfer do 6 knots and they think nothing of coming through the anchorage at far greater speeds. Good game, good game. But everyone just accepts each other and their sports. The kite surfers have great fun avoiding the sailing boats and the wind surfers struggle to avoid both the yachts and the kite surfers and we all live happily together exchanging elaborate and exaggerated stories with the sundowners each evening.

Admiralty Bay, Bequia

We have reached paradise and may never move from here again…….

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

The night before - by Elsie

The night before….

Well, here we are the evening before the ‘big’ one. Everything on the list is ticked off, well almost, the water has still be to topped up and we need to visit the bank to get some dollars.

The stores have been a problem. Capo Verde is definitely African, very little European food. It’s a cheap place to eat as long as your diet is the same as the locals – fish and rice. The rice comes in huge 25kg bags. No tasty cheese, the local goat’s cheese is tasteless and bland, no Parma ham, only very fatty bacon ham, no chicken breasts, only salty fish. Thank goodness we did a huge provisioning in Santa Cruz. The tins of curry chicken and the Fray Bentos pies don’t seem so stupid now. Even the chopped ham in tins will be a God send. Vegetables and fruit are very expensive compared to Spain but the good news is fish is plentiful and cheap. So, the fridge is full even though it’s not our usual fare.

I checked and rechecked the weather – it’s as it should be, northeast to east force 5 to 6. The swell is forecast between 2 to 3 metres, not good. There are about six weather models we use and all have different variants but high winds prevail. The Christmas winds have come early. According to Predict Wind we will zoom across to Barbados in 13 days. I have persuaded the skipper to head south so we will miss some of the highish winds. The passage should take between 15 and 18 days, I’m a wimp. I know 25 knots of wind is not high when it is behind the beam and we will have three reefs in most of the time but I am still having misgivings.

Nervous, scared, terrified are all descriptive words to describe my feelings tonight. I knew once we left Tennerife there was no turning back, onwards and across we go, but now I am facing 2000+ nm at sea I am now having second thoughts or even third or fourth ones. To turn back is not an option, it would mean beating into force 4 winds which is not comfortable to say the least. This journey could take take up to three weeks. I don’t think it will with the winds forecast but that’s what we have provisioned for. Three weeks at sea, with the nearest piece of land five miles straight down. We know Ruby is ready. We have talked through all the ‘what if’ scenarios so all the emergency procedures are in place and we have back up plans for our back up plans. Steve is primed and ready to receive our 12 hourly position and state text via the satellite phone and the life jackets, emergency beacons and life lines are all primed and ready. Even the grab bag and survival suits have been moved to a more prominent home. We are taking nothing for granted and safety is priority so why am I so terrified?

It’s the biggest adventure I’ve ever contemplated doing and now we are on the eve of it starting reality has hit me. The skills I have learnt over the last five years could save not just my life but Lionel’s as well. Watch the sails, watch the compass, listen to the noises around you. Think about what you are doing and do it correct first time everytime. There will be no wind steering, Hattie is still not working so we will be relying entirely on George or autopilot.

If I make the wrong decision in a moment of panic it could spell disaster for us and Ruby. That’s the key, I must not panic. I must be level headed and work out the best action to take at a moments notice. Reef. Reef. Reef. Watch the radar for squalls and reef. Watch the sky. Watch the sea. Anything which indicates we are going to be hit by high winds, reef. It is very difficult to see the signs at night. When we start tomorrow we will have a full moon which is good but in two weeks time there will be no moon so I have negotiated with the skipper and it will be three reefs in the main sail for my six hour night watch, easiest thing to do.

Now I can see the advantages of sailing in company and rallies. You can’t let the side down, bravado rules, show no weakness. Even talking to random cruisers I show no hesitation. Yea, the wind will be force 6, won’t that be fantastic sailing? Inside I’m a quivering wreck but to look at me you see a confident upbeat sailor who can’t wait to get out there and sail.

One way or another we are all actors.

December 2016 part 1.

In which we continue around the Cape Verde Islands and prepare for our Atlantic crossing.

We started December at anchor off Porto de Sal Rei, Boavista, Cape Verde Islands. It was our intention to spend another few weeks going round the islands and set off across the Altantic around the end of December. The next leg of our island hopping was about 90 miles, to Sao Nicolau, just too far to make it in one daylight so we decided to make it a night voyage. Having failed to test our wind steering since re-fitting it in Santa Cruz, we felt that we should do so now to check that it was now secure and that we could plan to use it on the crossing. So we got out Hattie’s rudder and fitted it.

We lifted anchor at 1700 and, with one reef in main and Genoa, set off on a beam reach with a NNE’ly F4 making a steady 7 knots. Hattie, at first, performed immaculately but, after an hour or so, the clacking sound returned. The lower bracket was still moving, so we had to lock the wind steering and revert to George. This was a big disappointment as we had little idea of how to proceed with it other than a complete re-fit – a dockyard job. The voyage, otherwise, went very well and at dawn we were rounding the SW’ly point of Sao Nicolau. As we did so, we came into wind shadow and had to motor the last 5 miles up to anchor off Tarrafal. There were only 3 other (active) yachts here, but 2 that sat at anchor without masts with every appearance of decay. We wondered what the stories were.

Sad yacht.

A leisurely breakfast and dinghy ashore to seek port officials. For once, the pilot book gave good directions but, when we got there, we were told that they had no interest in us and we should go to the national police. Here, we filled in the usual papers and handed over our ship’s registration document which is routinely held until departure. A wander around the well kept town showed the usual selection of mini-markets. These, as in Boavista, seemed to be owned and run by eastern Asians. Since my experience of West Africans is that they are very enterprising I cannot understand this.

Boavista from anchorage.

We spent a further 3 days here, mostly relaxing in the sun but we did make one foray into the interior to visit the island’s capital, Ribiera Brava. This was about an hour away and we could have taken a taxi, at a cost of about 25 Euros. Instead we found an aluguer (public transport) minibus who was happy to take us for 5 Euros. This did mean waiting 20 minutes while he drove around picking up sufficient trade to make his journey worthwhile but we were in no great hurry. Unlike the previous islands, the road was tarmac all the way, though very windy through the hills. Our driver stopped several times for other passengers, including a lady with severely disabled young boy. They both seemed to bear this affliction with good grace and Elsie got a smile from both in return for a gentle stroke of his arm but one does wonder what his future will hold when he is too big to be carried, in such a poor country. R. B. was, once again, very well kept but with no better selection of shops than Tarrafal. We did manage to find some flaky internet in a square and admired the decoration in the cathedral before returning in the same aluguer. Our driver mistimed his departure, following two others who picked up the majority of trade, including a large group from just outside the town. We managed to get in the lead to get the next passenger, but she took so long to board that the others overtook and managed to clear the route of further trade. Back in Tarrafal we tried again for internet (I still had my data SIM but some things are just so much easier on a lap-top than on a phone) but, having bought our beers at the one place that offered free WiFi, we were told that only the owner knew the key and he was absent. We needed a refill for a camping gas cylinder and found a supplier. The price for this service seems to get cheaper the further south one is. The most we have paid is £30 in Shetland (£10 per kilo!). In the Canaries, it was anything from 15 – 25 Euros. Here it was less than 3 Euros.

Ceiling picture, Ribiera Brava cathedral.

We witnessed a variation on ring net fishing one morning. One boat laid the net round an anchored yacht which was sheltering a shoal of fish. ‘Divers’ in snorkeling gear maneuvered the ends round the yacht and prevented escapees. The net was drawn tight and the meager catch was emptied into a huge floating basket brought by a second boat. Another crew, using a more conventional approach of laying a horseshoe of net from a beach at slack tide and pulling it in got a far better catch, the downside being that everyone in the area lent a hand at the recovery and wanted some payment in kind.

Fishing, Boavista style.

On the 6^th, we heaved up and proceeded the 26 miles to Santa Luzia to anchor off a beautiful deserted beach in crystal clear waters. Here we, once again, indulged ourselves by lazing in the sun, the only downside being the constant strong wind and the moderate swell which prevented our landing.

As stated, our intention was to spend another couple of weeks in the area, but we started to get itchy feet. We could see that the ARC and Odyssey rallies had, after a slow start, made good progress and were nearing the Caribbean. Another group of our friends, Dana de Mer, Mary Lou and Emerald Bay, were in Mindelo about to depart and the Trade Winds seemed to have settled into the classic NE’ly F4-5. Always flexible, we decided that we wanted to join the fun and decided that Mindelo, instead of just being a staging post back to the South East group of the C.V.s would be our point of departure. No rush, as we had missed our friends anyway, but head over, top up provisions, water, batteries and fuel and head off. Ruby’s bottom was getting a bit slimy so I took the opportunity of my daily dip to have a good scrub. This would have been easier without the 25 knot wind with consequent chop and surface current but I probably needed the exercise.

Bottom scrubbing at Santa Luzia

We heaved up at 0900 on the 8^th and proceeded to Mindelo. At first, in the shadow of Sao Nicolau, we got a SW’ly F3 but after 5 miles we cleared that island and had a NNE’ly F4-5. To go round the top of Sao Vicente we were close hauled, making 6-7 knots with 2 reefs. We arrived at Mindelo at 1330 and moored at the marina, our first in over 3 weeks. The marina has been very cleverly planned with the pontoons lying across the, almost constant, prevailing wind and different arrangements for mooring lines depending on whether you are up- or down-wind of the pontoon. Usual formalities with Marina (cheaper than expected) and port authorities (who held on to our ship’s papers again) and ashore to check out the provisioning prospects. Given that the town is very cosmopolitan, by area standards, this was a bit of a disappointment. Basic and dry stores were available, though much more expensive than in the Canaries, but luxuries such as charcuterie, cheese and ‘fine pieces’ were unobtainable and the fruit and veg. were not of the same quality (and very expensive). The water, however, was good and the internet from the local cafe was strong enough to be be picked up by our amplifier, meaning that we could catch upon 3 weeks worth of I.T. and store some BBC podcasts for the crossing.

We had a plan of minor maintenance, stores etc. and all was going to going well until Friday afternoon when we looked at the weather forecast for the crossing. This had changed and it now looked as though our planned Tuesday departure would take us out into a forecast F6. As our experience shows that reality is usually 5-10 knots more than the forecast, from our current source, this meant that we could be committing ourselves to a week of gale force winds. If we hurried up with our preparations and left the following day, we could beat the weather but, guess what? The port offices had just closed for the weekend. Oh Bu**£r! A sleepless night while we pondered what plan ‘C’ should be.

We were woken on Saturday by sounds of drums which, on investigation, came from a parade of schoolchildren to celebrate United Nations human rights day. This led us to a part of town which I hadn’t visited but which, unfortunately, didn’t reveal a Waitrose, Tesco or even Pingu Doce. Back to the boat, a check of the weather and hurrah! The forecast wind had dropped sufficiently to make a Tuesday departure a reasonable plan again. So on with gentle preparations while another group of yachts, including an Israeli rally, departed.

Sunday was spent relaxing and Monday on final provisioning.  Unfortunately, fruit and veg are not as well stocked as on departure from Tenerife but we will survive.

Tuesday morning brought a few last minute butterflies but it was time to go.

To be continued...