We left Bequia with a new canopy for the cockpit. Local sailmakers Alick and his wife Selma came out and did some measurements and gave us an estimate, and by the next morning, they were back snipping and fitting and in the afternoon, we had the finished product. (We're looking forward to seeing Alick and Selma again -- Alick is the current champion of the Carriacou Regatta, and we're hoping to catch this year's races in about a month's time.) The new canopy looks so much better than the canvas job I put together in Georgetown. It did the trick for several months, but it got so mildewed and ratty. I could tell that Randy was getting to the point where he'd rather fry in the cockpit than put that mess on view. Nancy looks very spiffy again. In case anyone is waiting for a varnish update, we've decided that the rails look just fine without. Bare teak is very appealing for so many reasons, although the many boat fellas who come to offer their varnishing skills seem to think otherwise. The spooly things on the taffrail have been sanded and have a coat of white primer.
Before we left Bequia, we had a great evening with a bunch of cruisers for a potluck party on the beach -- it rained, so we retired to the convenient cave at the end of the beach. It was like a Nova Scotia party with everyone crowded in the kitchen, only it was dark and sandy. Good fun. We also had a pizza night with the sailors from Aldora (John, Kerri, and their three kids, Dave, Sam and Sally), and the Paangans - Markus and Mary-Helene. That morning I'd trecked to the Cable and Wireless office to buy a phone card so I could talk to Anna who is finally out of the woods after planting trees in northern Ontario. The phone card was $40EC for 9, count em, 9 minutes. They assured me that the phone booth by the pizza restaurant was the best bet. Clever ploy. "Card invalid." I tried four other phone booths, in the dark, before and after dinner, and the best I could get was a voice in Spanish telling me the number was not in service. Tried again the next morning, and finally got through, but I'd missed her.
Next stop, Mayreaux. Maybe there's a phone booth there. Good crossing with a rough bit in the middle. Paanga was ahead of us and called to tell me to take my Stugeron, which I did, instantly. Beautiful little bay at Mayreaux, surrounded by a lovely beach with palms. We went ashore and asked the man on the beach about a phone. He shook his head, and said "if you want to make a collect call you can do it from my house," which was right on the beach, but I had visions of a double-digit call to Anna's dad's house, and said thanks, but we'd better try for a phone booth. And, after all, I still had the phone card, which theoretically, should still work on Mayreaux. He thought there was a phone booth in town, but noted, "it's uphill." Uphill both ways. So steep, it reminded me of of the very worst bits of Sackville Street, only it went on and on and up and up. Then we hit the summit, beautiful view, then we plummeted into town, past beckoning cold beer, down to the payphone, which was so dead it had become invisible to all inhabitants. They didn't even know that it was there because it had no useful function, probably never had. Useless piece of crap. I'm over it now.
Back up the hill in the 90 degree heat, with the beautiful view. Halfway up, we fell in with Jerome, and had a chat about the geography. He told us that he does the hill everyday and doesn't think about it. He suggested we stop for a cold drink somewhere. I wonder if they've had boat people expire just short of the summit? They haven't had electricity for that long, and Jerome told us there's only 12 or 13 cars on the island, and for all of that, and probably because of that, it's a lovely place. We panted our way to the top of the hill, bid Jerome goodbye, sauntered down the other side, and SB continued right into the perfect clear cool water off the beach and had a brilliant float while my face regained its normal colour.
It was Canada Day, and we celebrated ashore with the folks from Raft, Aldora and Paanga. As we beached the dinghy, there was a small group of locals with a motor boat anchored just off the beach, and I could hear the song "Let's Change Partners and Dance." Unbelievable. I called over "Is that Fred Astaire you're listening to?" and a big, big man in a teeny little bathing suit, huge grey beard and bushy hair, perked right up and called back "You like my music!" I gave him a big thumbs up. For the next hour, from the terrific little beach bar we could hear Billy Holiday, Judy Garland, a string of oldies. It was such a treat. While I was enjoying the music, Markus and the three kids from Aldora were bashing coconuts to bits and bringing the edible and drinkable bits to the table. Sally also brought a crab from the beach, but he was not happy about joining the party, and ended up hiding under Ross's seat. Terrific day, except for the phone disappointments.
Next stop, Tobago Cays. You'd think the Tobago Cays would be near Trinidad and Tobago, but no. No phones, no habitation of any kind, but there were boat boys trying to sell us fish caught illegally on the reefs. Tempting, but no. Lots of boats here tucked in behind the reefs. The snorkelling wasn't great because the water was so churned up from the wind and the waves, but it's a beautiful place nonetheless. We had lunch on Aldora, then they headed back to Mayreaux, and the next day, we all headed toward Union Island.
Union was just a quick stop to check out of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, and I had hopes that I might be able to FIND A PHONE, and use up the remaining six minutes on the phone card that I'd paid so much for. The payphone at the marina was toast. So it's down the road to the airport to find Customs, and I'm positive that there'll be a working phone at an airport. Two phones, both dirty and dead. Back down the road to the internet place, $5EC for 20 minutes, and a couple of quick emails to explain the lack of phone communication. Just for extreme kicks, I asked at the restaurant at the marina if there were any working payphones in the vicinity, and explained about my card. The man there said that the card wouldn't work even if I could find a working phone, even though we were still in the bailiwick of the same cable and wireless company. "Oh, we just don't have the special machines it takes to use those cards." Enough said. I will speak no more about phones. At least not in this update. No laundry news either. Still have a grease stain on my green top.
From Union, a quick sail to Carriacou, check in with Customs at Hillsborough, then a quick motor around the corner to Tyrell Bay to drop the hook for almost a week. Tyrell Bay is very restful. Not much going on in this little village. There's a couple of small grocery stores, with nothing much to eat on the shelves, a long beach, a few bars and restaurants. Great pizza cooked by a local lady, served by a young Frenchman at an Italian restaurant. Soccer, of course. Simon will sell you a case of Chilean wine from his little boat (about $6 per bottle, about half what we pay for the same stuff at home), Roberto paddles by with mangrove oysters, and will open them for you and is happy to stay and have a drink of rum while he does it. It's quiet, pleasant, and the people are friendly. They're working hard to build new houses and continue clean up from the hurricanes of the last couple of years. No garbage in the streets here.
We took the bus back into Hillsborough, about 3 miles away, to get some groceries. The buses are great -- minivans with kids going to school, ladies going to church, people going to work. Pre-teen girls have some things in common wherever they live. We were charmed and entertained by their banter with every kid we drove by. Everyone says 'good morning everyone' when they get on, and everyone answers back politely. Even the little kids. The bus stops anywhere you like, just holler out, or bang on the ceiling and he hits the brakes. The driver also honks at everyone he knows, and floors it between the speed bumps on the concrete roads. Half the time you're going hell-bent for leather, and then you're creeping over a speed bump on a turn. Good thing he never forgets where they are.
We had a lovely hike up one of the hills on the south side to Cassada Bay. Lots of goats and a defunct hotel with a great view. We cracked a beer, ate cashews, and enjoyed the view, then hiked back down again. On the way back, a possey of little boys was sitting beside the road eating berries from a tree. "Seely berries" they told us, and asked if we wanted to try them. They tasted like raspberries. Nice, nice little boys.
A note about tropical dogs: very laid back. They all have their gonads, for one thing. They lie down most of the time. It's hot. You walk by, they raise their heads, maybe. Cats, ditto. Sprawled across the entrance to the grocery store. You walk in, they look up, go back to sleep.
Tyrell Bay also has a small boatyard with a travelift and reasonable prices. For you sailors, the cost for our boat would be $292 to haul and launch, block and pressure wash. Five days free on the hard then $16 a day thereafter.Labour to sand, prep and paint the bottom would be $168 (all given in US$). Of course paint is extra and really is the most expensive item, the best tropical anti-fouling going for $225 a gallon. All in all, not a bad deal. We are also looking at yards in Grenada and Venezuela since Trinidad seems to be fully booked ever since Ivan hit Grenada two years ago, the first in 50 years, and now the insurance companies have deemed it too high a risk. However, hurricanes are not unknown in Trinidad either and with about 3000 boats there right now, you can imagine what if.... At least here there are mangrove swamps to poke into for reasonable protection.
We've met nice boat people here -- Tyrell Bay liveaboards Rick and Sue on Panacea (he runs the wifi, and loaned us a headset so we could phone home from our computer using Skype); Tom and Leslie, from Cornwall UK, on Kobbe, who loaned us great information on Venezuela; and Philip, Lisa and their kids Leah and Josh, from Ottawa, on 'Triumph of Hope'. Leah, Josh and Lisa came over and I helped them set up a blog this morning. Have a look and leave a comment!- it's at http://triumph-of-hope.blogspot.com, and 12-year-old Leah got her first posting up today.
We're off to Grenada in the morning (Saturday, July 8), and we're looking forward to all the retail joys of St. Georges.
Before we left Bequia, we had a great evening with a bunch of cruisers for a potluck party on the beach -- it rained, so we retired to the convenient cave at the end of the beach. It was like a Nova Scotia party with everyone crowded in the kitchen, only it was dark and sandy. Good fun. We also had a pizza night with the sailors from Aldora (John, Kerri, and their three kids, Dave, Sam and Sally), and the Paangans - Markus and Mary-Helene. That morning I'd trecked to the Cable and Wireless office to buy a phone card so I could talk to Anna who is finally out of the woods after planting trees in northern Ontario. The phone card was $40EC for 9, count em, 9 minutes. They assured me that the phone booth by the pizza restaurant was the best bet. Clever ploy. "Card invalid." I tried four other phone booths, in the dark, before and after dinner, and the best I could get was a voice in Spanish telling me the number was not in service. Tried again the next morning, and finally got through, but I'd missed her.
Next stop, Mayreaux. Maybe there's a phone booth there. Good crossing with a rough bit in the middle. Paanga was ahead of us and called to tell me to take my Stugeron, which I did, instantly. Beautiful little bay at Mayreaux, surrounded by a lovely beach with palms. We went ashore and asked the man on the beach about a phone. He shook his head, and said "if you want to make a collect call you can do it from my house," which was right on the beach, but I had visions of a double-digit call to Anna's dad's house, and said thanks, but we'd better try for a phone booth. And, after all, I still had the phone card, which theoretically, should still work on Mayreaux. He thought there was a phone booth in town, but noted, "it's uphill." Uphill both ways. So steep, it reminded me of of the very worst bits of Sackville Street, only it went on and on and up and up. Then we hit the summit, beautiful view, then we plummeted into town, past beckoning cold beer, down to the payphone, which was so dead it had become invisible to all inhabitants. They didn't even know that it was there because it had no useful function, probably never had. Useless piece of crap. I'm over it now.
Back up the hill in the 90 degree heat, with the beautiful view. Halfway up, we fell in with Jerome, and had a chat about the geography. He told us that he does the hill everyday and doesn't think about it. He suggested we stop for a cold drink somewhere. I wonder if they've had boat people expire just short of the summit? They haven't had electricity for that long, and Jerome told us there's only 12 or 13 cars on the island, and for all of that, and probably because of that, it's a lovely place. We panted our way to the top of the hill, bid Jerome goodbye, sauntered down the other side, and SB continued right into the perfect clear cool water off the beach and had a brilliant float while my face regained its normal colour.
It was Canada Day, and we celebrated ashore with the folks from Raft, Aldora and Paanga. As we beached the dinghy, there was a small group of locals with a motor boat anchored just off the beach, and I could hear the song "Let's Change Partners and Dance." Unbelievable. I called over "Is that Fred Astaire you're listening to?" and a big, big man in a teeny little bathing suit, huge grey beard and bushy hair, perked right up and called back "You like my music!" I gave him a big thumbs up. For the next hour, from the terrific little beach bar we could hear Billy Holiday, Judy Garland, a string of oldies. It was such a treat. While I was enjoying the music, Markus and the three kids from Aldora were bashing coconuts to bits and bringing the edible and drinkable bits to the table. Sally also brought a crab from the beach, but he was not happy about joining the party, and ended up hiding under Ross's seat. Terrific day, except for the phone disappointments.
Next stop, Tobago Cays. You'd think the Tobago Cays would be near Trinidad and Tobago, but no. No phones, no habitation of any kind, but there were boat boys trying to sell us fish caught illegally on the reefs. Tempting, but no. Lots of boats here tucked in behind the reefs. The snorkelling wasn't great because the water was so churned up from the wind and the waves, but it's a beautiful place nonetheless. We had lunch on Aldora, then they headed back to Mayreaux, and the next day, we all headed toward Union Island.
Union was just a quick stop to check out of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, and I had hopes that I might be able to FIND A PHONE, and use up the remaining six minutes on the phone card that I'd paid so much for. The payphone at the marina was toast. So it's down the road to the airport to find Customs, and I'm positive that there'll be a working phone at an airport. Two phones, both dirty and dead. Back down the road to the internet place, $5EC for 20 minutes, and a couple of quick emails to explain the lack of phone communication. Just for extreme kicks, I asked at the restaurant at the marina if there were any working payphones in the vicinity, and explained about my card. The man there said that the card wouldn't work even if I could find a working phone, even though we were still in the bailiwick of the same cable and wireless company. "Oh, we just don't have the special machines it takes to use those cards." Enough said. I will speak no more about phones. At least not in this update. No laundry news either. Still have a grease stain on my green top.
From Union, a quick sail to Carriacou, check in with Customs at Hillsborough, then a quick motor around the corner to Tyrell Bay to drop the hook for almost a week. Tyrell Bay is very restful. Not much going on in this little village. There's a couple of small grocery stores, with nothing much to eat on the shelves, a long beach, a few bars and restaurants. Great pizza cooked by a local lady, served by a young Frenchman at an Italian restaurant. Soccer, of course. Simon will sell you a case of Chilean wine from his little boat (about $6 per bottle, about half what we pay for the same stuff at home), Roberto paddles by with mangrove oysters, and will open them for you and is happy to stay and have a drink of rum while he does it. It's quiet, pleasant, and the people are friendly. They're working hard to build new houses and continue clean up from the hurricanes of the last couple of years. No garbage in the streets here.
We took the bus back into Hillsborough, about 3 miles away, to get some groceries. The buses are great -- minivans with kids going to school, ladies going to church, people going to work. Pre-teen girls have some things in common wherever they live. We were charmed and entertained by their banter with every kid we drove by. Everyone says 'good morning everyone' when they get on, and everyone answers back politely. Even the little kids. The bus stops anywhere you like, just holler out, or bang on the ceiling and he hits the brakes. The driver also honks at everyone he knows, and floors it between the speed bumps on the concrete roads. Half the time you're going hell-bent for leather, and then you're creeping over a speed bump on a turn. Good thing he never forgets where they are.
We had a lovely hike up one of the hills on the south side to Cassada Bay. Lots of goats and a defunct hotel with a great view. We cracked a beer, ate cashews, and enjoyed the view, then hiked back down again. On the way back, a possey of little boys was sitting beside the road eating berries from a tree. "Seely berries" they told us, and asked if we wanted to try them. They tasted like raspberries. Nice, nice little boys.
A note about tropical dogs: very laid back. They all have their gonads, for one thing. They lie down most of the time. It's hot. You walk by, they raise their heads, maybe. Cats, ditto. Sprawled across the entrance to the grocery store. You walk in, they look up, go back to sleep.
Tyrell Bay also has a small boatyard with a travelift and reasonable prices. For you sailors, the cost for our boat would be $292 to haul and launch, block and pressure wash. Five days free on the hard then $16 a day thereafter.Labour to sand, prep and paint the bottom would be $168 (all given in US$). Of course paint is extra and really is the most expensive item, the best tropical anti-fouling going for $225 a gallon. All in all, not a bad deal. We are also looking at yards in Grenada and Venezuela since Trinidad seems to be fully booked ever since Ivan hit Grenada two years ago, the first in 50 years, and now the insurance companies have deemed it too high a risk. However, hurricanes are not unknown in Trinidad either and with about 3000 boats there right now, you can imagine what if.... At least here there are mangrove swamps to poke into for reasonable protection.
We've met nice boat people here -- Tyrell Bay liveaboards Rick and Sue on Panacea (he runs the wifi, and loaned us a headset so we could phone home from our computer using Skype); Tom and Leslie, from Cornwall UK, on Kobbe, who loaned us great information on Venezuela; and Philip, Lisa and their kids Leah and Josh, from Ottawa, on 'Triumph of Hope'. Leah, Josh and Lisa came over and I helped them set up a blog this morning. Have a look and leave a comment!- it's at http://triumph-of-hope.blogspot.com, and 12-year-old Leah got her first posting up today.
We're off to Grenada in the morning (Saturday, July 8), and we're looking forward to all the retail joys of St. Georges.
posted by Susan at 9:03 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home