Finally made our way to Pointe a Pitre on Saturday. Nice sail, no barfing, reefed main and full jib, and it wasn't as windy as we thought it might be. The wind really honks between Guadeloupe and the Saintes - there's almost always major whitecaps in the channel. We finally saw a volcanic eruption - Montserrat, only 75 miles away, but there was a huge column of white cauliflower cloud that went up and up and slowly drifted west. Amazing.
The anchorage at PP was calm, empty, several permanent-looking boats anchored over at Isle de Cochon. Every place has a Pig Island it seems. Wonder why.
We found the dinghy dock at Bas du Fort marina. Huge marina, a thousand boats. Small shops, condos, gated village in the French nautical style (a bit grubby, but quite nice). We checked out the supermarket, and it wasn't bad, but of course, no fresh meat, which is what we were hoping for. We asked the security guard at the store where the Cora store was to be found (a huge grocery store) and we were told it was much to far to walk. The nice young fella with him said that there was a Match store in town, and he would show us where to get the bus.
He was so nice. When we said we could walk, he said it was much to far, and when his English ran out, he asked another guy he knew to help us. His name was Jesse, a law student at the university, and he said we shouldn't walk. "You could be assaulted." So we got on the bus with him, and got off in the centre of town and since he was headed in that direction, he walked us to the grocery store.
By the time we got there, both Randy and I were slighty panicked. The city seemed a labrynth. I knew we'd never find the bus station, a different one, to get back, we had no map, we were tired and overwhelmed. The parts of the city that we'd travelled through were as poor and tough as anyplace we've been, and much bigger. As we said goodbye to Jesse and I tried to imagine the directions back to the bus station, Randy said, screw that, we'll take a cab. And there they were, cabs at the curb. My hero. I felt saved, a bit. while feeling a bit of a middle-aged white-lady sap. It's the first time we've both felt concerned for our safety, and worried about getting back to the boat. Not a good feeling.
Nobody else we know had been to PP for shopping, although Axel, a German single-hander we met last year had to go to PP to have repairs done on his boat. When he got back to the Saintes, Randy asked him how he liked the place. He replied in his carefully enunciated English: "It is a wet hole." We should have been warned.
We spent 10 minutes in the grocery store, and at 4 on a Saturday afternoon, the place was jammed. We gave up, went outside, got in a cab and spent 12 Euros to get back to the marina. The cab was newish, clean, and the driver had one good eye. Zooming hell-bent down the six-lane highway, he undid his seatbelt and schooched over to peer closely into his wing mirror on the passenger side. He kept his foot on the gas the whole time, and I have no idea what he was peering at, but he got back into his seat and did up his belt and finished the trip with only a few more heart-stopping lane changes and some astonishingly ballsy acceleration.
We stocked up some at the original grocery store at the marina, and limped back to the boat for restorative drinks.
Next day, we took the dinghy deep into the marina - it goes way inland - and tied up at the Sunsail dock. From there, it was a 10 minute reconnaisance mission to find the Cora supermarket (closed on Sunday, but at least we knew where to go) and then we toured the Aquarium - very nice (photos below). Got back to the dock to find the Sunsail gate CLOSED (moment of panic) but not locked, so again, back to the boat for a bevvie. A recurring theme for our PP visit. We never do, normally. (Just a joke.)
Soon after we returned, we could hear live music blasting out from a building ashore, starting with drumming, and changing into an incredible variety of live music, men singing, women, young kids, fast, slow, traditional, pans, everything. It was great. And it went on until late. At nine, we could see through the binoculars that someone was collecting chairs outside the building. Randy said it wasn't over, it was just the old people who had been sitting down that were leaving.
When we got bored of listening to the music, we watched the steady, steady stream of boats returning to the marina from the river in the north, and from the Saintes and the other anchorages in the south. Hundreds of boats, motor boats mostly, every one of them dragging as big a wake as they could muster. A macho thing?
Monday morning off to Cora again (let me know if you're getting bored) and we decided to try leaving the dinghy at the marina dock close to the Aquarium.
Oh yes, this fella said, you can leave it here, no problem. Can we get back in the gate again? Oh no, the gate is locked, but someone will come along. We're not so comfortable with this, but then he says, I drive you to the grocery store, yes? Then he offered to pick us up again in an hour. Terrific! We zoomed around the store, heading toward the meat counter, visions of steak! pork tenderloin! something not a tail or a foot or a piece of gut or a tongue! and voila! Monday morning! the meat coolers are barer than a French charterer's bum. There's a small army of butchers in behind the glass cutting and packing, and by the time we had to go to meet our driver, there was still nary a bit of mince to be had.
Tonight, third round of leftovers - Randy's famous mushroom risotto. He defies anyone to make two portions of risotto. (But three days of it?) I bought a new lure yesterday, so we're hoping beyond hope that we'll pick up a fish tomorrow on the way to Dominica. We're also out of rum. R refuses to buy the Guadeloupe rum Agricole. We're still using the last stuff we bought to kill fish - one shot in the gills, and they gone. Now all we need is a fish.
See below for photos.
The anchorage at PP was calm, empty, several permanent-looking boats anchored over at Isle de Cochon. Every place has a Pig Island it seems. Wonder why.
We found the dinghy dock at Bas du Fort marina. Huge marina, a thousand boats. Small shops, condos, gated village in the French nautical style (a bit grubby, but quite nice). We checked out the supermarket, and it wasn't bad, but of course, no fresh meat, which is what we were hoping for. We asked the security guard at the store where the Cora store was to be found (a huge grocery store) and we were told it was much to far to walk. The nice young fella with him said that there was a Match store in town, and he would show us where to get the bus.
He was so nice. When we said we could walk, he said it was much to far, and when his English ran out, he asked another guy he knew to help us. His name was Jesse, a law student at the university, and he said we shouldn't walk. "You could be assaulted." So we got on the bus with him, and got off in the centre of town and since he was headed in that direction, he walked us to the grocery store.
By the time we got there, both Randy and I were slighty panicked. The city seemed a labrynth. I knew we'd never find the bus station, a different one, to get back, we had no map, we were tired and overwhelmed. The parts of the city that we'd travelled through were as poor and tough as anyplace we've been, and much bigger. As we said goodbye to Jesse and I tried to imagine the directions back to the bus station, Randy said, screw that, we'll take a cab. And there they were, cabs at the curb. My hero. I felt saved, a bit. while feeling a bit of a middle-aged white-lady sap. It's the first time we've both felt concerned for our safety, and worried about getting back to the boat. Not a good feeling.
Nobody else we know had been to PP for shopping, although Axel, a German single-hander we met last year had to go to PP to have repairs done on his boat. When he got back to the Saintes, Randy asked him how he liked the place. He replied in his carefully enunciated English: "It is a wet hole." We should have been warned.
We spent 10 minutes in the grocery store, and at 4 on a Saturday afternoon, the place was jammed. We gave up, went outside, got in a cab and spent 12 Euros to get back to the marina. The cab was newish, clean, and the driver had one good eye. Zooming hell-bent down the six-lane highway, he undid his seatbelt and schooched over to peer closely into his wing mirror on the passenger side. He kept his foot on the gas the whole time, and I have no idea what he was peering at, but he got back into his seat and did up his belt and finished the trip with only a few more heart-stopping lane changes and some astonishingly ballsy acceleration.
We stocked up some at the original grocery store at the marina, and limped back to the boat for restorative drinks.
Next day, we took the dinghy deep into the marina - it goes way inland - and tied up at the Sunsail dock. From there, it was a 10 minute reconnaisance mission to find the Cora supermarket (closed on Sunday, but at least we knew where to go) and then we toured the Aquarium - very nice (photos below). Got back to the dock to find the Sunsail gate CLOSED (moment of panic) but not locked, so again, back to the boat for a bevvie. A recurring theme for our PP visit. We never do, normally. (Just a joke.)
Soon after we returned, we could hear live music blasting out from a building ashore, starting with drumming, and changing into an incredible variety of live music, men singing, women, young kids, fast, slow, traditional, pans, everything. It was great. And it went on until late. At nine, we could see through the binoculars that someone was collecting chairs outside the building. Randy said it wasn't over, it was just the old people who had been sitting down that were leaving.
When we got bored of listening to the music, we watched the steady, steady stream of boats returning to the marina from the river in the north, and from the Saintes and the other anchorages in the south. Hundreds of boats, motor boats mostly, every one of them dragging as big a wake as they could muster. A macho thing?
Monday morning off to Cora again (let me know if you're getting bored) and we decided to try leaving the dinghy at the marina dock close to the Aquarium.
Oh yes, this fella said, you can leave it here, no problem. Can we get back in the gate again? Oh no, the gate is locked, but someone will come along. We're not so comfortable with this, but then he says, I drive you to the grocery store, yes? Then he offered to pick us up again in an hour. Terrific! We zoomed around the store, heading toward the meat counter, visions of steak! pork tenderloin! something not a tail or a foot or a piece of gut or a tongue! and voila! Monday morning! the meat coolers are barer than a French charterer's bum. There's a small army of butchers in behind the glass cutting and packing, and by the time we had to go to meet our driver, there was still nary a bit of mince to be had.
Tonight, third round of leftovers - Randy's famous mushroom risotto. He defies anyone to make two portions of risotto. (But three days of it?) I bought a new lure yesterday, so we're hoping beyond hope that we'll pick up a fish tomorrow on the way to Dominica. We're also out of rum. R refuses to buy the Guadeloupe rum Agricole. We're still using the last stuff we bought to kill fish - one shot in the gills, and they gone. Now all we need is a fish.
See below for photos.
posted by Susan at 5:56 PM
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