We're into June, and there's a part of me that knows that I should be home digging and chopping and weeding in the garden. Instead, I'm enjoying a beautiful morning in the Port Zante Marina in St. Kitts.
Had a great stay in Marigot -- I could have spent several more days there just eating croissants and trying new French wines -- but after a very long dinghy ride over to Budget Marine for this and that (they don't bother to stock anything other than serious boat bits, no dishes, no fripperies, no clothing or shoes to speak of) we stopped at Shrimpy's for, yes, shrimp. They have a book exchange, and I traded a stack of good books for some well-used and not very good books. I think a person could do very well if they picked the right island and the right spot and opened a second-hand book shop and stocked it with decent reading. I may have said this before, but cruisers' book swaps accumulate the worst awful sort of trashy, dog-eared beach books.
Left Marigot in the morning and headed around the north end of the island hoping to get a better slant to maybe sail this sailboat to St. Barth, but it was not to be. Another beat to windward. Shortly after we left, the jib started inexplicably sagging and whuffling, and it was quickly noted (and soundly cursed) that the halyard had let go. We got it rolled in, a miserable bunchy wrap it was too, and proceeded to the rolly rolly harbour at Gustavia. Pretty island, beautiful town, but once Randy had checked us in with Customs, we headed back the way we came and anchored in Anse de Colombier. Checking in at Customs took a while, because the staff were all watching France and Mexico play soccer on the big screen TV. France scored, and then they attended to our papers.
Anse de Colombier has a beautiful beach, huge cliffs, a lovely hike to an isolated village on top of the hill, and the water is full of turtles. Okay, not full, but you can sit on deck and eat your lunch and spot four or five in an hour. The area around St. Barth is a nature reserve, no fishing, and they have patrol boats that keep an eye on things. There are lots of European charterers on Sunsail cats, and several cruisers, also mostly European, although an American on the charter boat next to us dinghied over to ask about Nancy Dawson, and declared it "the prettiest thing he'd ever seen."
Next morning our first piece of business was sorting out the jib. This sort of thing is best done on a windless day, preferably at the dock, but it can also be accomplished on a very breezy day in an anchorage with a gentle roll. We unfurled and dropped the sail, and chased lines and billowing bits as we sailed around the anchor and finally got it scrunched on deck. Randy sorted out the halyards while I made one of about four trips to the head before he hauled me up the mast. Up I went with the halyard in tow, alternately trying to help haul myself up using the main halyard, and clutching the mast with sweaty legs and arms to keep from swinging with the roll of the boat. Halfway up, I had serious qualms, but he kept hauling, and I was soon past the spreaders and clutching my way up to the masthead (52 feet above the water). One of the rollers was missing, but I got the halyard led over the remaining one, and then alerted the capt. that I was done ("OKAY, GET ME DOWN"). Mid-way down, I was able to wrestle the camera out of my pocket and take a quick photo. Then we reattached the sail in the rollerfurling track, hauled it up, and then had to haul it down and repeat the process to free the main halyard. Then we had a beer, and a walk on the beach and up the hill and a lovely swim and snorkel.
Next day we motored back over to Gustavia for a walk around town. The anchorage is very pretty -- the water is clear and there's starfish scattered all over the sandy bottom -- but it's unprotected for the most part, and the boats are pitching and rolling all the time. Not a bad place if you've got one of those 60-foot catamarans, but we leaped off the boat and headed for town immediately. Town was deader than a doornail: Sunday, off-season, and French Mothers' Day to boot. We found one restaurant open and paid way too much for a really nice lunch. Back to the boat, back to Anse de Colombier, and off to St. Kitts the next morning (another thrash to windward, in case you're wondering).
The anchorage at Basseterre on the south side of St. Kitts is not good - rolly and exposed - so the marina was the best option. Water, electricity and fabulous showers (and a lot of dust from nearby construction), and Charlie the young dockmaster is a really nice guy. The slips are just piles that you tie up to, and ever since our first experience with this set-up in Alligator Creek, I've figured it was a nasty way to secure a boat.
Six of us arranged with a local taxi driver, George "Smile on Me" Baker, for a tour of the island, which was great. It included an hour-long traipse through the rainforest with Bill, and he described the many teas and medicines they make from the local trees and bushes. I came back to the boat with a big bunch of soursop leaves, which, when dried and made into tea, will help me sleep. Perhaps if I wasn't so sweaty and bugged by no-see-ums, I might sleep anyway, but I'll try anything. The tour also included lunch at an interesting place in Cayon. We drove through little winding streets up a hill and stopped in front of a sort of cafe with dirty white plastic chairs. George led us inside, right back to the kitchen, where the menu was recited by a young man presiding over huge aluminum pots and pans. It was a strange and stodgy lunch - big hunks of boiled potatoes, pumpkin, breadfruit, carrots, along with fungi (sort of a big lump of polenta-like stuff), salt cod, beef ribs (greenish yellow), and a blob of pinkish stuff made from bananas. Lunch for the two of us, with two beers, was about EC $20, or about $8 US. But it was really weird. And there was a TV in the corner, a colour TV, and the colours were pink and purple.
Later that evening as we were walking in town, we heard someone calling to us, and it was the young man from the restaurant. He'd recognized us, and stopped to say hello again. He was in town for "the dominoes," and mentioned that if we were to come for lunch tomorrow, he was serving something really good. Nice fella, if not a great cook, and isn't nice to be someplace so far from home and have someone greet you on the street and stop to chat.
We had a great time on our last night in St. Kitts. Torontonians Marcus and Marie-Helene from Paanga invited everyone to a potluck on the dock, and besides us, and the folks from Vixen and Southern Mist, there was a Nico and Wilma from the Netherlands with their two smart and friendly teenagers, Mike and Joe. The background entertainment came from a big revival meeting onshore next to the marina. Lots of music, lots of Praise the Lord, and as Randy notes, lots of intense rhetoric from several preachers. On the dock, there was great food, and we blathered on like old friends and didn't get to bed until 10:30.
Across to Nevis (birthplace of George "Smile on Me" Baker) was just a short hop, 11 miles, and another rolly harbour. We checked in and out with Customs in Charlestown, had a walk around and a guava icecream. There's a bookstore here! Lots of romance novels with exceedingly attractive black couples on the covers, but also a selection of V.S. Naipaul novels. I bought two. We decided to shift to a less rolly spot, and on the way up to Tamarind Bay, we felt a soft whump, the engine revs dropped for a second, and then we felt our speed drop. Nothing seemed amiss with the engine, so I went overside with the snorkel when we dropped anchor, and fished a big chunk of heavy plastic off the prop. All boat problems should be just that easy to sort out. No cursing, no vertigo, no expense.
Two nights in Tamarind Bay, second night on a free mooring, and key lime pie at the Gallipot restaurant. Snorkelling in the afternoon was interesting. The water isn't all that clear, lots of leaves and bits of vegetation, but we saw a snake eel, or eel snake, I forget which, a fabulous juvenile French Angelfish, a poisonous worm, a huge pufferfish, and a bunch of other stuff. Picked up a bunch of shells snorkelling in two feet of water off the beach, which was mostly black volcanic sand, and hot as blazes.
Speaking of volcanic, our next stop: Monserrat. The volcano erupted about two weeks ago, again, and vented 55,000 feet into the air, but when we slogged our way into the anchorage on the north shore today, there was only a hazy cloud to be seen over the south part of the island. Tiring slog from Nevis -- 9 hours of banging to windward, again, and the boat and the boat people were crusted with salt. I flopped into the water for a swim when we got here.
Overnight in Monserrat, then we headed into another beat to windward to get to Antigua. We did sail for about an hour before the wind went from 20-25 to 10, and rounded up to be bang on the nose. By the time we got to Jolly Harbour in Antigua, it was gusting to 35 and we were so salty we crunched. Whitsunday holiday, so we picked up a mooring and after a sunset that disappeared into gray haze, were treated to a fabulous downpour around suppertime. Boat is clean again, ready to receive spray when we head around to tour Nelson's Dockyard tomorrow. Probably heading out to Guadeloupe on Thursday morning.
Had a great stay in Marigot -- I could have spent several more days there just eating croissants and trying new French wines -- but after a very long dinghy ride over to Budget Marine for this and that (they don't bother to stock anything other than serious boat bits, no dishes, no fripperies, no clothing or shoes to speak of) we stopped at Shrimpy's for, yes, shrimp. They have a book exchange, and I traded a stack of good books for some well-used and not very good books. I think a person could do very well if they picked the right island and the right spot and opened a second-hand book shop and stocked it with decent reading. I may have said this before, but cruisers' book swaps accumulate the worst awful sort of trashy, dog-eared beach books.
Left Marigot in the morning and headed around the north end of the island hoping to get a better slant to maybe sail this sailboat to St. Barth, but it was not to be. Another beat to windward. Shortly after we left, the jib started inexplicably sagging and whuffling, and it was quickly noted (and soundly cursed) that the halyard had let go. We got it rolled in, a miserable bunchy wrap it was too, and proceeded to the rolly rolly harbour at Gustavia. Pretty island, beautiful town, but once Randy had checked us in with Customs, we headed back the way we came and anchored in Anse de Colombier. Checking in at Customs took a while, because the staff were all watching France and Mexico play soccer on the big screen TV. France scored, and then they attended to our papers.
Anse de Colombier has a beautiful beach, huge cliffs, a lovely hike to an isolated village on top of the hill, and the water is full of turtles. Okay, not full, but you can sit on deck and eat your lunch and spot four or five in an hour. The area around St. Barth is a nature reserve, no fishing, and they have patrol boats that keep an eye on things. There are lots of European charterers on Sunsail cats, and several cruisers, also mostly European, although an American on the charter boat next to us dinghied over to ask about Nancy Dawson, and declared it "the prettiest thing he'd ever seen."
Next morning our first piece of business was sorting out the jib. This sort of thing is best done on a windless day, preferably at the dock, but it can also be accomplished on a very breezy day in an anchorage with a gentle roll. We unfurled and dropped the sail, and chased lines and billowing bits as we sailed around the anchor and finally got it scrunched on deck. Randy sorted out the halyards while I made one of about four trips to the head before he hauled me up the mast. Up I went with the halyard in tow, alternately trying to help haul myself up using the main halyard, and clutching the mast with sweaty legs and arms to keep from swinging with the roll of the boat. Halfway up, I had serious qualms, but he kept hauling, and I was soon past the spreaders and clutching my way up to the masthead (52 feet above the water). One of the rollers was missing, but I got the halyard led over the remaining one, and then alerted the capt. that I was done ("OKAY, GET ME DOWN"). Mid-way down, I was able to wrestle the camera out of my pocket and take a quick photo. Then we reattached the sail in the rollerfurling track, hauled it up, and then had to haul it down and repeat the process to free the main halyard. Then we had a beer, and a walk on the beach and up the hill and a lovely swim and snorkel.
Next day we motored back over to Gustavia for a walk around town. The anchorage is very pretty -- the water is clear and there's starfish scattered all over the sandy bottom -- but it's unprotected for the most part, and the boats are pitching and rolling all the time. Not a bad place if you've got one of those 60-foot catamarans, but we leaped off the boat and headed for town immediately. Town was deader than a doornail: Sunday, off-season, and French Mothers' Day to boot. We found one restaurant open and paid way too much for a really nice lunch. Back to the boat, back to Anse de Colombier, and off to St. Kitts the next morning (another thrash to windward, in case you're wondering).
The anchorage at Basseterre on the south side of St. Kitts is not good - rolly and exposed - so the marina was the best option. Water, electricity and fabulous showers (and a lot of dust from nearby construction), and Charlie the young dockmaster is a really nice guy. The slips are just piles that you tie up to, and ever since our first experience with this set-up in Alligator Creek, I've figured it was a nasty way to secure a boat.
Six of us arranged with a local taxi driver, George "Smile on Me" Baker, for a tour of the island, which was great. It included an hour-long traipse through the rainforest with Bill, and he described the many teas and medicines they make from the local trees and bushes. I came back to the boat with a big bunch of soursop leaves, which, when dried and made into tea, will help me sleep. Perhaps if I wasn't so sweaty and bugged by no-see-ums, I might sleep anyway, but I'll try anything. The tour also included lunch at an interesting place in Cayon. We drove through little winding streets up a hill and stopped in front of a sort of cafe with dirty white plastic chairs. George led us inside, right back to the kitchen, where the menu was recited by a young man presiding over huge aluminum pots and pans. It was a strange and stodgy lunch - big hunks of boiled potatoes, pumpkin, breadfruit, carrots, along with fungi (sort of a big lump of polenta-like stuff), salt cod, beef ribs (greenish yellow), and a blob of pinkish stuff made from bananas. Lunch for the two of us, with two beers, was about EC $20, or about $8 US. But it was really weird. And there was a TV in the corner, a colour TV, and the colours were pink and purple.
Later that evening as we were walking in town, we heard someone calling to us, and it was the young man from the restaurant. He'd recognized us, and stopped to say hello again. He was in town for "the dominoes," and mentioned that if we were to come for lunch tomorrow, he was serving something really good. Nice fella, if not a great cook, and isn't nice to be someplace so far from home and have someone greet you on the street and stop to chat.
We had a great time on our last night in St. Kitts. Torontonians Marcus and Marie-Helene from Paanga invited everyone to a potluck on the dock, and besides us, and the folks from Vixen and Southern Mist, there was a Nico and Wilma from the Netherlands with their two smart and friendly teenagers, Mike and Joe. The background entertainment came from a big revival meeting onshore next to the marina. Lots of music, lots of Praise the Lord, and as Randy notes, lots of intense rhetoric from several preachers. On the dock, there was great food, and we blathered on like old friends and didn't get to bed until 10:30.
Across to Nevis (birthplace of George "Smile on Me" Baker) was just a short hop, 11 miles, and another rolly harbour. We checked in and out with Customs in Charlestown, had a walk around and a guava icecream. There's a bookstore here! Lots of romance novels with exceedingly attractive black couples on the covers, but also a selection of V.S. Naipaul novels. I bought two. We decided to shift to a less rolly spot, and on the way up to Tamarind Bay, we felt a soft whump, the engine revs dropped for a second, and then we felt our speed drop. Nothing seemed amiss with the engine, so I went overside with the snorkel when we dropped anchor, and fished a big chunk of heavy plastic off the prop. All boat problems should be just that easy to sort out. No cursing, no vertigo, no expense.
Two nights in Tamarind Bay, second night on a free mooring, and key lime pie at the Gallipot restaurant. Snorkelling in the afternoon was interesting. The water isn't all that clear, lots of leaves and bits of vegetation, but we saw a snake eel, or eel snake, I forget which, a fabulous juvenile French Angelfish, a poisonous worm, a huge pufferfish, and a bunch of other stuff. Picked up a bunch of shells snorkelling in two feet of water off the beach, which was mostly black volcanic sand, and hot as blazes.
Speaking of volcanic, our next stop: Monserrat. The volcano erupted about two weeks ago, again, and vented 55,000 feet into the air, but when we slogged our way into the anchorage on the north shore today, there was only a hazy cloud to be seen over the south part of the island. Tiring slog from Nevis -- 9 hours of banging to windward, again, and the boat and the boat people were crusted with salt. I flopped into the water for a swim when we got here.
Overnight in Monserrat, then we headed into another beat to windward to get to Antigua. We did sail for about an hour before the wind went from 20-25 to 10, and rounded up to be bang on the nose. By the time we got to Jolly Harbour in Antigua, it was gusting to 35 and we were so salty we crunched. Whitsunday holiday, so we picked up a mooring and after a sunset that disappeared into gray haze, were treated to a fabulous downpour around suppertime. Boat is clean again, ready to receive spray when we head around to tour Nelson's Dockyard tomorrow. Probably heading out to Guadeloupe on Thursday morning.
posted by Susan at 10:35 AM
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