Island Hopping
Island hopping so far
has been an awe inspiring experience intermixed with unbounded terror. Our trip from Saint Martin to Saint Kitts was
quite a nice ride with 15 to 20 knots of wind allowing us speeds averaging just
above 9 knots with a top speed of 11.7… humming along (reefed main and genoa) sunny
and happy. Saint Kitts little harbor was
quiet and the sizable cruise ship village was deserted when we cleared in just
before 19:00 hours. We crashed out heavy
and by the time we woke there were 2 cruise ships in already with 2 more in
queue and a big square rigger anchored about 200 feet off our stern. The cruise
ship village was hopping. We elected to
check out Fort Brimstone, aptly named being built on a long dormant volcano and
an old sugar plantation up in the jungle and equipped with some sort of little
green monkeys. I don’t like monkeys –
they bite… so back to Basse Terre for lunch and a walk around town, dinner on
board Aurora, a good night’s sleep and early departure for Nevis – only 12
miles away. With 15 knots of wind we
made it to Nevis in 1 hour 15 minutes so our on shore drinking time that first
day was not compromised at all. We
picked up a mooring just off the beach in front of Sunshine’s bar – which a friend
in Tortola recommended. Drove the dingy
up on the beach and in 40 paces found ourselves doused in Sunshine. The place
has a real Rastafarian feel and spirit. After a couple of Killer Bees (Sunshine’s
signature version of rum punch) I was quite numb thinking.. this is fun. Then back to the boat where we were moored
next to “Northern Sky” who carried some friends we had met in St. Martin and
they were sailing with “Fathom This”
with more friends we had not yet met.
Well – more drinks and dinner – I believe on Northern Sky leading to
planning to check out Nevis. So I rented
a van the next day and 6 of us circumnavigated the most friendly island in the
Caribbean… a bit of a pub crawl but why go through the bother of detoxing when
you can retox? I believe we hung around
Nevis for 4 days – what a wonderful island paradise then Northern Sky and
Fathom This headed off to Guadeloupe (we said we would catch up with them in a
few days) and I decided to head to Monserrat, because I liked the name.
If ever and island
suffered from bad karma that would be Monserrat. From the moment we got off Aurora to clear in
things were not too welcoming or friendly.
The first port authority building was void of people and a lonely
clearance computer terminal proved to be useless so we hiked over to another
port authority building and filled out a form for a customs official who sat
right next to an immigration official who requested we fill out another form
with the exact same information as the first form. We paid and started walking toward freedom
and were stopped by a security official who had us fill out a third form – yup,
you guessed it, with the same information as the first 2. Finally we cleared Check Point Charley and
were met by 2 cab drivers – well I thought a knife fight would break out as
they argued at high volume with each other as to who would have the right to
show us their wonderland. Ugly is a good
way to describe my feelings at that point in time. Thank some positive spirit for looking after
us - there was a bar nearby so we had a couple or rum punches and ordered 2
burgers to go. We luckily were down to
one cab driver by then as we wanted to go see the semi active volcano on the
south end of their bit of paradise. As
though it was not enough that hurricane Hugo left a massive trail of carnage
across the island, the capital city of Monserrat was totally wiped out in the volcanic eruption in 1997 (last volcanic
eruption in 2010) so there now is no significant town center on the
island. It was a very eerie site looking
at what was left of the capital from a ridge outside the exclusion zone about 2
miles away; covered in up to 30 feet of ash, lava and mud – some roofs of
houses, businesses, hotels visible – most not.
The volcano still sending ominous plumes of steam into the air from a
few miles behind on a cloudy rainy day did not lift my spirit. F – this… back to the port. We got dropped off and started walking back to the familiar bar and were stopped by
customs who asked us to move Aurora as we were in the way of the 19:30
ferry. Now 2 ferries had come and gone
before we came on shore without problem but you can’t fight city hall, so back
to Aurora, get the dingy back on the davits, hoist the anchor and try to figure
out where we could anchor as darkness approached and the wind started to howl. Most
of the harbor is taken up with empty moorings for fishing boats and the reef on
the south side left little room for guessing where the unmarked ferry channel
was so we pulled out to a small bay just north around the corner as there were
3 other boats anchored there by a small beach and large cliffs. Our anchor bit hard and we decided to have
dinner. There was nothing I liked about
that anchorage so I sat up on deck watching until 21:30 when the wind seemed to
die a little. So I went below and then
peeked up in about 5 minutes and all was OK so I went below again and hopped
into bed. We got hit by a big gust (about 10 minutes later)– my guess is 40 knots
so up I went again and this time everything looked different. As my mind was
trying to wrap itself around what was going on my eyes noticed we were about ½
boat length from, and drifting toward,
the cliff I disliked so many hours before.
Being without clothing, back down I went and requested Eilo get into her
foul weather gear and meet me on deck. I
jumped into my foul weather gear, turned on the engine room blower, windlass,
and nav instruments, shot up on deck, started the engine and jammed her into
reverse at full speed and very luckily we did not touch the rocks – but we were
really close to a ship wreck condition.
I got Eilo on the helm and requested she go backwards into the black by
keeping the lights from the port off the bow while I went forward to hoist the
anchor. The wind was a constant 20 knots
now and it was raining. Eilo managed to
drag the anchor into deep water and I was having no problem pulling up the 175
feet of chain we had out – except for bouncing around on the bow. The windlass was working better than ever –
25 feet of chain left and all was looking better. About ten seconds later I realized why we
were adrift – the anchor was gone and ½ of the shackle which at one time
connected the anchor to the chain, was all the was left on the end of the
chain. So night sailing was our only
option – but where to? I thought we can
easily get and anchor back in Saint Martin ( a day’s sail away) but it’s tough
to get an anchor when you don’t have an anchor to hold the boat in some given
spot while you go to shore to source a new anchor. Thanking the stars that Eilo then sprung into
action – grabs the Caribbean guide book below and finds there are a couple of
good chandleries on Guadeloupe and now we have friends on Northern Sky and Fathom
This sitting in the Deshais harbor on north western Guadeloupe so we have a
destination and a whole lot of wind to get us there. With about 15% of the genoa out we were doing
between 7 and 9 knots so we got to the island at day break and motored in to
meet our friends who commandeered a private buoy. They helped us tie up and we spent the rest
of the day sourcing an anchor (and proper swivel to connect it to the chain ),
getting it back to the boat, installing it, and getting to a safe anchorage
before our first cocktail and nightfall.
When I say we were shot – we were completely spent. We slept well. Having friends is the best life has to offer.
Deshais is a beautiful
little vacation town for the Guads and the transient sailors. It’s very French and has all the benefits
that Frenchness brings. Our sailing
buddies decided to head south after 3 days to the Saints – a group of islands
which are part of Guadeloupe about 8 miles south of Guadeloupe so off we
went. Wind was almost non-existent so we
motored most of the 38 miles to Isle Terre
D’En Haut. To me a fairy book town with a fairy book harbor… which is where we
currently lie.
A briefing from the Reluctant Sailor:
So after leaving St Martin, which I was beginning to think
of as home, we headed off to Nevis. En
route, listening to VHF, we were hailed by a boat (“Tonic”) whose owner we had
met while clearing out of customs and immigration. They wanted to take photos of us under sail
and we did likewise for them….but with no further contact information it would
be in the lap of the Gods if we were able to exchange the photos! We heard them later on the radio hailing a
couple (“Northern Sky”) who we had visited for cocktails in St Martin. Apparently a group of boats were heading
south. They talked about harboring
overnight in the south of St Kitts, White House Bay, while we were heading to
Port Zante north of there intending to explore Brimstone Hill Fort and whatever
else was awaiting us. We had a good
sail, though too short a sail for Ken who is only happy when we are out for
hours and tested to our limits!
The anchorage was OK, nothing fancy though there is a
terminal for cruise ships and shops to suit them. Our day of touring was fun; taxi driver was a
young guy and insisted on alerting us to all important sites. “This is our graveyard, this is our gas
station and is open 24 hours, this is our hospital….and so on.” Ken and I were respectful of his
insights! The fort was awe inspiring (a
UNESCO World Heritage site), much more extensive than we expected. Canons everywhere to ensure that the French
would not gain a foothold, actually they captured and held it at one
period. Many of these islands have
French/British war stories and the locals did not do well under either rule, and
both countries imported slaves. On the
way to the fort is a site known as the Bloody River where the British and
French teamed up to massacre about 2,000 Carib inhabitants. The two countries later fell out and then
battled each other constantly in this region!
We visited an old sugar plantation and a wonderful old Manor, Romney
Manor, where there are incredible gardens (a tree with a canopy covering close
to an acre) and a batik center. After
two nights we set sail for St. Nevis.
We had a great sail…I think we both agreed on that and only
motored down the coast on arrival which afforded us the opportunity to see the
island. Upon arriving at the anchorage in
Charleston opposite Sunshine’s Bar (a friend of a friend from Tortola) we spied
a mooring ball and headed for it. Right
behind our ball was “Northern Sky”!
Later Gerry and Isolde were in their dinghy and came over for drinks. And so began some great fun. We toured the island with them and another
couple (George and June from “Fathom This”).
Botanical gardens were stunning, old manor houses in the Gingerland
area, beautiful beaches along the coast.
We ate lunch in a superb manor with gardens and ponds. The fun continued on Nevis and I hated to
leave.
Ken and I determined that a visit to Montserrat was a good
idea while our friends determined that they would go further to
Guadeloupe. We did not have a great sail
as there was little wind and so we had to half sail/half motor. The guide book promised us that Montserrat
would be extremely welcoming especially given the fact that half their island
had been destroyed by their volcano.
Not so…
From the beginning we had doubts. Weather was turning and I called into the
harbor to ask about overnight conditions (it can be pretty untenable and so the
guide book advised calling them). They assured
us conditions would be fine. There was
little room to anchor as the fishing boats had put private moorings all around
the harbor, though most of them were empty.
There was a ferry dock but no marked channel. We settled on a place to anchor and having
had two ferries (and later a third) pass by with plenty of room we felt
good. We were the only yacht but were
later joined by two others who anchored close to us. The harbor was not
particularly welcoming, neither did it provide much shelter from the sea.
On land we cleared customs and immigration and security
(three times responding to the same questions and filling out similar
information). Took longer than most
islands. Then two drivers argued over
us….was not pleasant. We decided on one
of them and off we went. The island
is beautiful but sadly the tragedy of
lost lives, property and their main city and harbor hangs like a cloud over
everything. Our taxi driver was negative
about everything….why would we need a new harbor (I determined that it was not
a question he wanted me to respond to….why would you spend money on that
hotel…why do the British want to vacate the island and so on. I guess the most telling moment was when he
took the plastic bag containing our Styrofoam lunch remains…we thought he was
putting it into a suitable receptacle but he tossed it off the side of the
mountain towards the sea. Ken and I were
dumbstruck….
Later he told us that the customs/immigration folk liked to
tell yachts to re-anchor at night…that nearly put me over the edge of the
volcano. We finished our sad tour and
felt the devastation wrought by the volcano but, maybe even more so, the
inability to move beyond it. On our
arrival back at the port….yes…we were asked to move as was another boat. They determined we were too close to the
unmarked ferry channel. It was now
starting to lash rain and darkness was fast approaching. Gone were our visions of dinner and we rushed
to move our boat. The other yacht was
desperately trying to find somewhere to anchor but there was little room and we
were being forced into areas of significant depth. We moved to the next bay which promised
(according to the guide book) better protection from the elements.
ANCHORS AWAY
And so we went to Rendezvous Bay. The weather had turned nasty, the wind picked
up, swells in the ocean and rain, rain, rain.
We anchored. To one side three
other boats, the other side a beach and in front (in the distance) cliffs. We ate dinner and Ken went to sit on deck, I
asked him what it was he didn’t like about the anchorage…his response….
I don’t like anything about this anchorage.
Well, I was in no doubt!
He sat there for about three hours and then came below as the wind
appeared to be dying. Checked again
after five minutes…OK. Then we heard the
wind picking up and so he decided to check again…it had been 10 minutes since
his last check. The joys of sailing…he
barked out that we were drifting and had better get on deck. We scrambled into foul weather gear and up on
the rain and wind swept deck. He told me
to take the helm and go backwards and maintain a course. I flicked on a flash light to see the cliffs
right in front of us and darkness beyond.
I decided it was probably not the most appropriate time for questions,
debate or …. full scale bloody panic. I
held the helm, fought the waves and tried to move away from cliffs. Ken was pulling up the anchor. He would call out how much chain had come up
in order to cheer me….fat chance of that.
I was winning the retreat at the helm.
Finally when he came back with good news/bad news I guessed it. Anchor’s away…literally. We had none…just a broken shackle which used
to connect chain to anchor. Holy Cow!
We determined it best to head to Guadeloupe as our friends
were in an anchorage with moorings and there was a chandlery on the
island. It was pitch dark, stormy,
swells in the ocean and raining, raining, raining. Now…I have determined that I don’t like night
sailing….but I like cliffs less and having no anchor less again. And I did not think we would find any support
on Montserrat. So off we go again for a
night of Ken (relentlessly focused at the helm), me providing cups of tea (I
have gotten good at managing to boil water on our gas stove under trying conditions)
some food and helm relief. Down below
gets wet as you are up and down and so needs to be tended to. You also have to keep an eye on how
everything is stowed as the boat thrashes about. Dawn has never looked so good!
Coming into the anchorage area after about 10 hours we
hailed our friends on vhf and they zipped into action. They were both at anchor and there were no
balls so they commandeered a private ball figuring that this was an
emergency. Gerry and George were at the
ball and tied us off, Gerry went into port to figure out where to get an
anchor. We had to get to an industrial
zone where there was a chandlery and an anchor!
No cars to rent…no taxis available…Ken and I caught a local
bus…we looked like hell as we had not time to get cleaned up. The locals must have found us strange and
smelly!
The bus took us some miles from
the chandlery and we had no idea how to get there. We asked directions in a Kia dealership
(please buy Kia cars from now on) and they were very helpful. When I explained what happened (in diabolical
French, which probably added to the drama) they drove us there. We got the anchor, they called a taxi and as
we walked out the door shut the shop at 1:30 FOR THE DAY. We just made it.
Back to the boat to put the anchor
on as the mooring ball was not considered safe for us to overnight on (PS Ken
always hated the old anchor, really!).
Ken had bought a new swivel shackle (choosing it with great care) having
determined that the old one (that came with the boat) was at fault for losing
our anchor.
So are you thinking that this
could only happen to us….
Turns out that when we lost our
anchor, Gerry had spent the night up as their anchor dragged and he could not
lift it as it was attached to something under the sea. He wrestled with it all night but by the time
we came in had released it from bondage and re-anchored. The next day George, who says his anchor
never slips, dragged too and had to re-anchor.
We all got together and I listened to stories of the challenges that
cruisers face. In God’s name why don’t
they re-anchor in a house??? I have
finally figured a few things out….
Racers are in it for the thrill of
the race, then they go to the bar, relive it all with cocktails and go home to
bed.
Charterers pay for a boat with
bells and whistles; sail for a couple of hours between cocktails, gourmet meals
and beaches; scream for help to the chartering company when things go wrong; give back the boat and any problems after a
week or two and …go home to bed.
Cruisers are masochists who live
for the next challenge. As George puts
it…cruisers experience immense joys interrupted by periods of sheer terror.
We left Guadeloupe for The Saints
(Gerry highly recommended these islands) and were followed by George and
Isolde. The crossing was more
uncomfortable than anticipated as the forecast winds were not so, no wind as we
went down the island and then, instead of a close reach (decent sail) we took
it on the nose and pushed our way (motor helps) to The Saints. After a day, George and June joined us. It is absolutely stunning here!
We leave tomorrow for Dominica.
