Simpson Bay Lagoon, Day 1

As soon as I wake up, my immediate thought is ‘where’s the weather system now?’  I call to Mike for my cup of tea and he fills me in.  There is no real change which is good and bad.  Good because it hasn’t intensified and been given a number, let alone a name.  Bad because it is still heading here according to some of the models.

Mike goes to Island Water World to pick up the new ridiculously expensive bit of electronic kit, the inverter and before he returns, Per, our marine electronics guy, arrives to start looking at our electrics.  Brave man!

We have lots of problems at the moment.  The fridge is constantly on but never seems to get really cold, although the freezer is fine.  The lights are manic.  Sometimes they come on in the salon and the port fore cabin, and sometimes they don’t.  Some of it is down to loose connections ie in the port fore head, if the lights don’t come on you thump the cupboard door and on they come – obviously a loose connection there.  But in the salon you have to keep switching them on and off and then suddenly they’re OK.  Sometimes switching on other lights helps them to jump into life – the more current going through the electrics the better, but it really pisses me off having to mess around all the time.  Hopefully Per will start to sort it out, as well as dealing with the inverter problems.

Mike gets back and they start sorting out some of the wiring.  Circuit boards are hidden behind panels and in tiny cupboards.  Finding anything is a nightmare, let alone fixing it.  The air conditioning is not on and the boat is like a sauna.  We all sweat buckets.  Lovely.

As usual, a discovery leads to the requirement for more pieces of marine equipment to be purchased so Mike and Per go off to Budget Marine before Per has to leave for another appointment, promising to be back in the morning – as long as there’s no hurricane!

I spend the afternoon going from weather charts to my sudoko.  I can’t settle to anything and the boat is in disarray.  We have had to dismantle one of the cabin beds to get to the electrics and there is stuff all over the place.  I am so looking forward to Johanne and Steve coming out and now the boat is a complete mess - I don’t know how I will get it back together before they arrive, especially if the weather worsens and we have to strip it down tomorrow.  I try to catch up with my computer work but keep losing internet connection which is frustrating.

In the evening I wait restlessly for the weather updates at 8pm.  The situation is slightly improved.  The weather system still hasn’t got a number or name, and being only 36 to 48 hours away, even if it hits land here, it hasn’t got much time to develop.  I go to bed hoping that tomorrow it will go away!  Please.

Phillipsburg to Simpson Bay Lagoon, St Martin

Waking up, we decide that today is the day for the new camera.  We know which one we want.  One of our guests had a fabulous one which seemed to have all the features we need.  We have already done some research on the internet regarding costs so we can work out a deal with the rogues in Phillipsburg, and wait for the shops to open.  And they don’t.  Sunday, low season, duh!  Luckily, we phone ahead rather than trundle off in the dinghy so at least we don’t have a wasted journey.

Mike, as usual, checks the weather systems.  The ‘bit of wind’ that he already knew about, is now developing into a ‘system’.  Not yet a numbered depression, let alone a named tropical storm or hurricane, but something with a 50% chance of turning unpleasant.  Having just arrived back in St Martin after fleeing Ana and Bill (neither of which ended up doing anything), we are ‘not best pleased’ at being in the same position again.  This time though, it’s not as clear cut.  The weather models show this ‘50% chance of development’ with four possible different paths; one to Guadeloupe, one here and two heading north into the Atlantic.  All we can do is wait.  I hate it.

The information sobers our mood tremendously.  We had a lovely day yesterday and today we come down with a bang.  Johanne and Steve are coming out from the UK to join us on Friday.  Whatever state will the boat be in when they arrive?  This ‘development’ is forecast to be less strong that the one last October (Hurricane Omar), but we might have to strip the boat and the chances of us having put it back together again before they arrive are slim.  We have made the decision that we will head south anyway once they arrive so that we don’t have to go through this again.  All the work that needs doing on Jeannius ie hauling out etc, can be done in Grenada, well out of the usual hurricane belt.

We motor round to Simpson Bay and wait for the bridge to open, which it does, promptly.  One boat comes out, one boat (us) goes in and the bridge closes again.  I hate anchoring here.  All that smelly mud and weed.  We made sure our water tank was full before entering – no way would we make water out of the lagoon stuff!

Photo:  The Lagoon on the French side, near Marina Port Royale, Fort Louis in the background 

Mike motors over to the French side, we anchor just outside Marina Port Royale and he tries to check in.  Customs everywhere on the French side is shut so he will have to try tomorrow.  We pull the anchor up again, motor further back into the lagoon and re-anchor.

Photo:  Taking the dog for a walk, yachty style! 

We both feel very flat.  We can’t make any decisions yet.  We don’t want to start stripping the boat until we know what’s coming our way.  Maybe we’ll find out more tomorrow.

I search the freezer and end up making soup which is not the best I have made (to put it mildly!).  Mike probably won’t eat it.  Ah well, he could go hungry!

Charlestown, Nevis to Phillipsburg, St Martin

Apart from being woken up by the beach bar cranking up the volume for what must have been the last song of the night, we both have a good night’s sleep and are ready to leave by 8.30am.

Photo:  Local fishermen pulling in their nets in Nevis 

We start to motor with just the main up out of the mooring field and I take over the helm.  I don’t know why but ever since we have had had Jeannius, I am reluctant to use the wheel at the helm – I prefer to steer using the autopilot buttons.  Mike knows I can do it and can’t understand my reluctance as I have done it lots of times and have never done anything wrong.  I just feel so little and pathetic (and anyone who knows me knows that this is not me) when behind the helm but I know I have to get over this for the World Arc – I just have to practise more.  I wonder if it’s because you don’t get the same feeling as with a tiller, which is how I learnt years and years ago.

I get out of the flat calm of the mooring field without hitting anything and we turn to go between the south east side of St Kitts and the north west shores of Nevis.  We have tried to sail this course before.  It is the quicker, but more exposed route.  The wind and the sea pick up as soon as we make the turn into the channel and as we turn out of the channel and up east coast of St Kitts, Mike puts the genoa out and cuts the engines.

Photo:  Leaving Nevis behind

It is a bit lumpy and bumpy at first.  The mountains of both islands create strange wind patterns, but as we sail past St Kitts it all settles down.  Although the winds stay around 15-18 knots, Jeannius sails at an average of 6.5 knots.

It is a beautiful day.  We put the fishing line out but nothing is interested in it.  After washing all the blood and gore out of the cockpit yesterday, I am quite happy about this.

Quite frankly, the sailing today is as comfortable as it gets.  It’s steady after the first hour or so, and we both loll around in the cockpit reading and listening to music.  A real lazy day.  We are on the same tack all day so apart from a little fine tuning of the sails, Mike does nothing, and miraculously, nothing breaks, drops off, stops working or seizes up.

We arrive in Great Bay, Phillipsburg just before 6pm.  There is only one other catamaran in the whole bay plus two America’s cup yachts.  Phillipsburg looks dead.

We eat some of yesterday’s catch, the King Fish, cooked simply to see what it tastes like.  It’s good, not spectacular, but good … and free (if you don’t take into consideration the cost of the rod etc!).  We put the water maker on the fill the tank and Mike sorts the internet access out.  Can’t function without internet!!!

Deshaies, Guadeloupe to Charlestown, Nevis

Well I manage to get into bed but during the night my knee is so painful that every time I roll over onto my side, I wake up as my knee hits the mattress.  Great.

We leave around 5.30am with quite a long journey ahead of us – 72 miles to Charlestown, Nevis.  As usual it pours down with rain as the anchor comes up but unusually, it is Mike doing it, as, hearing the rain, I malinger downstairs until I can hear him doing it.  There is no wind so we head out under motor, attempting to dodge the fishing markers in the semi darkness.  As we leave the bay, the sun starts to rise.  Now I know I am big on sunsets, but this was a lovely sunrise over Guadeloupe, so obviously it gets photographed!

Photos:  Beautiful sunrise - once it stops raining!

There is enough wind to sail but it is not in the right direction – about 10 degrees off the course we need – and we pass to the north  east of Montserrat, almost towards Antigua at times (which is unusually very clear).  Montserrat is still smoking away.  Today, the volcano is covered with cloud but there is steam visible from just below the peak.

Photo:  Montserrat’s huge volcano clearly visible under the clouds

  Photo:  Steam hangs just below the peaks of the volcano

As we are passing the island, the reel suddenly shoots out – a fish at last – obviously the new lure is working.  Mike reels it in and he takes a good look at it before going anywhere near it because at first glance (before he lands it on the step) it looks horribly barracuda-shaped!  Once he has it on the step we can see that it doesn’t have the horrible teeth the barracuda has so he bludgeons it to death, removes the hook and we get the book out.  It is a Kingfish.  Very good to eat!

Photo:  Captain Mike and the Kingfish

Mike guts it and cuts it into steaks and it’s in the freezer before it had even got rigor mortis!  We have only just finished cleaning the blood off everywhere when the line goes out again.  This one is heavier it seems although as Mike reels it in it actually looks smaller.  Examining this one closely, we decide it is some kind of tuna, possibly a small black fin tuna.  It is so pretty with huge eyes which look reproachfully at me (before we cut it’s head off).  This one I fillet, but not before weighing it – 7.5 lbs.

Photo:  Isn’t he beautiful?

As I am still learning the techniques of filleting, there are lots of little bits left over which I immediately fry with garlic and wasabi and pop it in a sandwich with some mayonnaise.  Yum yum.  We decide to leave scrubbing the cockpit until later in case we catch another one.  Half an hour later we decide we can’t be bothered to deal with another one and we can’t afford the time slowing the boat down enough to catch one anyway, so we pull the line in.

We arrive at Nevis just before 6pm, have a cup of tea, establish internet connection and scrub the massacre evidence from the boat.  In the failing light, we probably don’t make a very good job of it and the evidence will, I’m sure, be there for me to see tomorrow.  But tomorrow’s another day!

Isles des Saintes to Deshaies, Guadeloupe

Lie in?  What a dream!  I wake up at 6am.  Luckily Mike also wakes up, so early as it is, I don’t have to wait long until my tea arrives.

As we are still unable to get internet connection, we move the boat to the other side of the bay and hey presto, good connection.  We do our urgent stuff then go into town to explore a little.

We have been here before, but it’s easy to forget how lovely some places are when you go to so many.  The Saintes were never agricultural so no slaves were imported, just like St Barts.  It is like being in the south of France but less chic, and less expensive.  There are nice touristy shops rather than the usual tat but no designer names.  The town is beautifully clean and there are flowers everywhere.  It’s just beautiful.

Photo:  The ferry dock in the centre of town

Photo:  Jeannius anchored at Bourg des Saintes with Guadeloupe in the haze behind

  Photo:  Making bread at a local boulangerie

We do a little shopping.  Mike manages to replace his favourite t-shirt bought here at Le Gall, where everything is designed by a local artist.  I try on a dress which the rather charming man announces fits me perfectly.  All I can see is my fat stomach, which has become fatter as of late so I don’t buy it.  We wander around and buy some unfortunately rather disappointing pain au chocolat, which will no doubt add to the size of my tum!

The houses are beautifully kept, some surrounded with white picket fences and flowering bushes.  Most are freshly, and brightly painted.

 Photo:  Beautiful local house on the beach

 

Photo:  Even the Mairie looks charmingly picturesque

One of the houses has been designed to look like a boat that has been pushed up onto the rocks.  In fact, the first time I visited here I thought it was a boat.  Today we look more closely and discover that it is a doctor’s surgery although I’m sure he lives here too.

 Photo:  Bateau des Isles

Photo:  Beach at Bourg des Saintes

We leave around midday, bound for the north west end of Guadeloupe.   It is an incredibly boring journey.  There is not enough wind to sail although Mike tries various combinations of sail.  The engines go on for half an hour, then a bit of wind comes and they go off again and five minutes later, the wind drops and the engines come back on again.  This is repeated all afternoon as we need to keep up a reasonable average speed to get to our destination before dark.  The wind comes from directions it shouldn’t ie the north which is frustrating and very unexpected.

We eventually arrive in Deshaies just before 6pm – that’s 30 miles in nearly 6 hours.  We need to do better than that tomorrow.  As we choose our anchoring spot, all we can hear are tree frogs.  The noise is unbelievably loud, a cacophony no less!  They are either extremely big or there are thousands of them!

Deshaies is a lovely working fishing village with lots of restaurants and a few useful shops.  They don’t really cater for tourists here but you can get everything you need.   

Photo:  Deshaies waterfront

Photo:  Local homes, some deserted, some not

Photo:  Mist hanging over the hills covered in lush vegetation

It is a beautiful evening.  The sea is completely flat again and the only noises we can hear are those tree frogs and splashes made by fish jumping.  There are so many leaping around that I am almost tempted to put the line out but the thought of having to bludgeon a fish to death in the semi-darkness puts me off!  There is yet another beautiful sunset and I wasn’t going to take photos of it as every day seems to have a sunset photo but it was soooo beautiful I just can’t help myself.  Unfortunately in my haste to take the photographs, I step from one part of the boat to another, landing on one of the few areas that is not non-slip.  It is wet and I am barefoot.  My left leg goes over the side, my right stays on board, and with a scream, I am left straddling the back of the boat.  It really hurts and I demand Bailey’s on ice for my pain.  I get the photos though!

Photos:  Almost worth the pain!

All joking aside, my slip is a painful reminder of how quickly and easily you can get hurt on a boat.  I know better than to walk barefoot when the boat is wet and I am always telling other people not to run or jump. 

It’s another early start tomorrow.  We need to get to at least Nevis if we are to arrive in St Martin again on Saturday.

I just hope I can get into bed!!!

Saint Pierre to Iles des Saintes

Because I know I have to get up early, I don’t get to sleep easily and wake up frequently during the night.  Eventually at 4.30am and half an hour before the alarms are due to go off, my wriggling disturbs Mike enough for him to get up and make the tea.  Result!

We set off about an hour later.  The sun is just rising and the town is already moving as we hear the dustbins being emptied.  The sea is still flat calm as we head out although Mike puts the main sail up in the hope that as we leave the protected waters of Martinique, the wind will increase to the predicted 15 or so knots per hour. 

Just at the north end of Martinique, Mike decides to put the gennaker up as the wind is almost behind us.  Within ten minutes a squall develops just offshore under the mountains, gusting winds of 25 knots, and although it looks it will pass behind us, we can still get some nastier winds from it.  I start winging to Mike about how I don’t like or trust the gennaker or the rustling, flapping noise it makes if the wind isn’t in it just right and there is a huge bang.  Christ, here we go again.  A quick look determines that the block holding the gennaker furling on the port stern has broken and the gennaker is now flapping furiously and extremely noisily and the sheets whip around madly looking for skin to rip off a body.  Luckily I still have my gloves on and Mike goes down to the pulpit to wind it in while I attempt to control the sheet.  Unfortunately the tension is so uneven that if furls badly and starts to rip, and the bloody thing has only just been fixed.  Rather than risk further damage, Mike decides to take it down completely.  With his lifejacket on and safety harness securely fastened around something solid, he lowers it using the winch and I pull it in over the side before it hits the water and lay it down on the foredeck before scrabbling back to the safety of the cockpit.

Once everything is safe, Mike takes a look at the broken block, which, on closer inspection, turn not to be broken at all.  He examines the rope which ties the gennaker block and that isn’t broken either as he can see that both ends still have signs of being melted.  A few weeks ago he attempted to undo the knot in this rope and was unable to as it was too tight.  The weird thing is that any tension on the rope should have made it tighter, not come undone.  Very strange indeed.

The squall passes and we cross the passage between Martinique and Dominica.  Once in the protection of Dominica, the sea, which has become lurchy and uncomfortable, calms down, as does the wind, so I go below for a sleep because I had such a bad night.  An hour an a half later I emerge, a little refreshed.

After lunch we are coming to the north tip of Dominica and the winds are picking up again.  By this time both the genoa and the main are up and Mike decides to take a reef in the main just in case the winds pick up as we leave the shelter of land.  In the event, he needn’t have bothered.

We arrive in Isles des Saintes, a group of small French islands, around 4.30pm and run the usual gauntlet of invisible fishing pots.  We head to Terre d’en Haut, the largest of the islands and the only one with a town - Bourg de Saintes - and anchor in the fishing port area to try to find some free internet connection but we fail dismally.  I admire Mike’s persistence – I would have thrown the bloody PC and all its gubbings out of the window but he just says he’ll try in the morning from somewhere else.

Photo:  Arriving at Isles des Saintes, with Pain au Sucre in the foreground

Photo:  The fishing port area

We were going to get up early tomorrow morning and head north but with no internet, there is no weather forecast so we can’t go.  I try not to hide the fact that I will look forward to a lie in! 

Case Pilote to Saint Pierre, Martinique

In the morning, Ludovic from Inboard Diesel Services comes over to Jeannius to attend to our generator.  He climbs into the black hole and is so quiet down there for nearly an hour that Mike eventually goes out to see if he’s still in there.  He is.

He discovers a couple of problems.  The exhaust to the generator has been installed in such a way that sea water can get trapped and run back into the engine.  This, he believes, has caused corrosion to the valves and cylinder head.  They don’t have the parts to fix this immediately so he cuts the exhaust to make sure that water always runs downhill away from the generator.  We end up with a new exhaust manifold and a bill for nearly 400 euros.  And this is just the start.  We have to go back in a few weeks to have the cylinder head removed and the damage repaired.  And so the money pit continues!

While all this is going on, I walk around the little village again as there really isn’t anything else to do, and take more photos.

Photos:  Case Pilote, a working fishing village

Photo:  These are on the end of all those plastic bottles in the sea – lobster pots

We leave Case Pilote in the very early afternoon, heading for Saint Pierre.  The sea is like a millpond – so still and flat it’s unbelievable, but there is enough of a breeze to make it a comfortable journey, although not enough to get the sails out.

When we arrive in Saint Pierre there is quite a swell and Jeannius rocks uncomfortably and is very exposed.  Having just put the anchor down we haul it up again and move to the north end of town.  It seems slightly calmer here, and as the afternoon goes on it calms even more until in the evening it is dead calm again.  From the boat we sit and watch the goings-on on shore.  Thirteen or so teenagers amuse themselves for hours diving off the floating pontoon and throwing each other in, shrieking and screaming.  The light as the sun sets over Saint Pierre and the volcano is fantastic.

Photos:  Views of Saint Pierre and the volcano behind

I cook another vat of dhal and some coconut rice.  We find some fish in the freezer which we defrost and fry.  It turns out to be the end of Burhan’s barracuda and is very good.

 Photo:  Our last sunset from Martinique

Grande Anse d’Arlet to Case Pilote

After taking ages to get to sleep, I wake just after 2am realising that I forgot to send Johanne my shopping list.  This coupled with the heat, means that I have no chance of going back to sleep.  I get up.  This is an anathema to me.  Since I was a child, I have a thing about getting up in the night.  As far as I am concerned, once you are in bed you stay there.  Or maybe I’m just lazy.  Anyway, normally I just lie there trying to get back to sleep, but I am so hot, I need to get outside.

It’s beautiful.  It’s hardly any cooler as there is no breeze and the sea is completely flat.  I can see little sparkles of phosphorus in the sea, and lots of stars in the sky, but there is also an eerie haze over the water, some sort of sea fog, and it is really, deathly quiet.

Eventually Mike wakes up and notices I am gone.  He gets up and pours us both some cold water and sits with me for a while, before setting the PC up for me to e-mail Johanne.  When I have done this we both try to sleep again.  Eventually, me later than him, we are successful.

The day promises showers, and they arrive, heavy and prolonged, plaguing most of the morning.  Straight after lunch, and after he has fixed the new block onto the main sail reefing point, we pull the anchor up to go to check out at Fort de France.  As usual, it is pouring when I have to pull the anchor up, and it takes ages as it has become well and truly embedded in the bottom.  I then have to stand at the bow of the boat directing Mike out through the fishing ‘markers’.  I stand in my hat, bikini bottoms and deck shoes, soaking wet and enjoying the cool relief that the rain brings.  My hat prevents the inevitable frizz.

The sun comes out as we pull into Fort de France.  For the first time since we have arrived, we can see the top of the volcano, Montagne Pelee. 

Photo:  Sunshine and clear skies over Fort de France …

Photo:  … but look what we leave behind!

 Photo:  The Fort

Photo:  Baie de Fort de France

Mike goes to check out at the chandlery.  This is a very convenient way of dealing with the authorities.  Certain nominated businesses have a dedicated computer where people can check in and out if their mode of transport is a boat.  Immediately he is back we get the anchor up and leave.

As there is no wind (well I think 3 knots of wind constitutes no wind) we motor.  The sea is like a proverbial milk pond.  I have never seen sea so flat.  I lie on the trampoline for a while, enjoying the freedom of being naked with no one around to see me but all too soon we arrive at Case Pilote and I have to put some clothes on.

Photo:  Just outside Case Pilote, a fisherman sleeping in the shade

We tie up in the marina just as Frank, the generator fixer man, arrives – he will hopefully see to Jeannius tomorrow.  We wait for the sun to go down a little then take a stroll around the town.  It hasn’t changed since last week so this doesn’t take long.

When we get back to the boat, the harbour wall alongside Jeannius is full of men fishing.  Well I say fishing, but we watch for some time and nobody seems to catch anything.  There is a lot of excited jabbering and high-fiving but that’s about it.  The fishing technique consists of throwing the line over the breakwater and reeling it in straight away without waiting to see what happens.  Very strange.

Photo:  Fishing as the sun sets

  Photo:  Beautiful cloud formations over the sea

Grande Anse d’Arlet, Day 2

Today is a strange day weather-wise.  It’s hot.  It’s always hot but we get a bit of everything else; wind, flat calm, showers, haze and bright blue skies.

Mike takes a look at the bilge pump on the starboard side that hasn’t been working properly and although he can’t actually fix it, he discovers that it isn’t the pump that’s not working, it’s just a broken valve - a cheap thing to fix when we can get the parts!

It’s so hot in the afternoon that Mike suggests a swim and I agree to go with him.  Because we are moored so far out, we don’t bother with swimwear but Mike dons his snorkel and mask and takes a scrubbing brush – obviously more than swimming is going to take place.  Jeannius is growing a thick, green beard from being in one place after another for too long and is in desperate need of new anti-fouling.  I grab a noodle, my hat, sunglasses and another scrubbing brush and get in with him.  It’s really hard trying to scrub the boat when you are a pathetic swimmer and the current is constantly trying to take you out to sea but I give it quite a go.  I scrub just above the waterline to remove the black marks and just under the waterline to remove the green algae although the barnacles are just too much.  I am constantly kicking to get back to the boat, and with it being Sunday, all the speedboats and jet skis are out being a real pain in the ass with their wakes.  After about half an hour, I give up, but Mike carries on until both hulls are clean on the outside. 

As he flicks off a small crab which clings to his arm (no doubt showing its disapproval at bring brushed off the hull of the boat) he is stung quite badly by something.  Sitting on the back of the boat, I pour white vinegar on his arm and Guinness down his throat – a double pronged attack for his discomfort.  Over the next ten minutes, an inch square blister forms.  We can only think it was a jelly fish but it doesn’t look like a jelly fish sting.  Any ideas anyone?

Photo:  The sting

We did mean to go ashore today, but frankly, couldn’t be bothered!

Anse a l’Ane to Grande Anse d’Arlet

We decide to have a slight change of scenery so mid morning we motor round to Grande Anse d’Arlet, just three miles or so south. 

Dodging all the fishing markers is a nightmare – we probably look like we are on a slalom course as we zigzag our way through.  Some markers are difficult to spot as they use old water bottles which a) are difficult to see in the sun, and b) just look like bits of flotsam floating around.  I really don’t understand why they don’t mark them properly.  Surely they don’t want boats ripping up their lines and a bit of money spent of proper markers would pay dividends.  Oh well, at least we arrive without anything nasty wrapped around either of our propellers.

Mike makes up a new black line for our anchor chain hook, our secondary safety system for the anchor.  He’s getting very good at these, despite the difficulty his hands give him, and the line and lovely new marine grade stainless steel hook looks great.

Photo:  Mike splicing a new line

The weather is not so good in the afternoon.  A few squally showers come through and the wind blows up.  I do a little hand washing and clean our bathroom but cannot summon up the enthusiasm for much else so when Mike suggests we have a little sleep I go and join him.

In the evening the wind gets a little stronger, and the wrecks of the two boats driven up on the rocks at the side of the bay prompts Mike to put the anchor alarm on.

Photo:  A lovely sunset, a yacht at sail and in the bottom left, a recent wreck

The internet connection here is quite good so Mike makes the most of it by using the slingbox in the evening to watch a recent episode of Top Gear.

Tour of Martinique

Today is the day for sight seeing Martinique so we go to hire a car.  The first car hire place we go to says we have to take a car for a minimum of 3 days.  No thank you.  We go round the corner to the next place.  It looks like someone’s house.  There are children’s toys all over the floor.  Actually it is someone’s house, but they do rent cars and they do take cards for payment.  He wants Mike’s passport for security which is a bit scary but we leave it anyway.

The traffic going north and round Fort de France is atrocious.  There are roadworks everywhere and it seems like we are never going to get anywhere but suddenly the traffic thins and we are away.

We head to Case Pilote first.  This is where we will have to go on Monday to have our smoky generator looked at.  As we will be taking the boat into the harbour we thought we would get the lie of the land (or sea to be exact).  We find the place.  The cruising guide says it is charming, unspoilt and picturesque; I think picturesque is pushing it a bit but it is a sweet little fishing town.

Photo:  Town square, Case Pilote

We then head further north up the coast road to Le Carbet.  The main road through this town is full of original wooden terraced houses which back onto the volcanic sand beach.  Behind them are so many palm trees it’s like a little wood.

Photo:  Mike parked in our little rental in the shade of a palm tree

Photo:  The beach at Le Carbet

Our next stop, which turns out to be our favourite, is Saint Pierre.  This town was destroyed in 1902 by the volcano which towers over it.  Nearly 30,000 people died. 

Photo:  One of the many ruined buildings in Saint Pierre

 Photo:  Le Tamaya, the restaurant where we had lunch

Photo:  Mike taking a rest in the shade after lunch

Photo:  The volcano is hidden in the mist behind the town

Photo:  The seafront promenade

From Saint Pierre we head inland and start to climb up to Montagne Pelee, the volcano.  As we head inland, the scenery changes dramatically.  There are acres of plantations, mainly sugar cane and bananas.  Thirty to 50 bananas hang from each tree and are wrapped in blue polythene, presumably to keep the birds off.  They make a bizarre sight.

Photo:  Blue banana trees!

The hills are rolly and very green as we climb.  It rains a lot here.  It is almost reminiscent of the English countryside in places.

Photo:  Martinique or England?

The vegetation changes as we climb.  Huge bamboos grow along the sides of the road, along with the biggest ferns I have ever seen.   Everything is lush and plants I can’t identify have huge, huge leaves.  When we get to the end of the road (we could go to the top but it is a walk of another mile and a half), we are shrouded in cool, grey mist.  With its peak at 5400 feet, it is at least ten degrees colder up here and suddenly it seems even more like England as it begins to pour and you can’t see further than a few hundred feet.  Mike goes out to take photos but I stay in the car.  I can’t see the point in getting out to look at drizzle, and anyway, my hair will go frizzy and we all know how I hate that!

On the way back down, the sun comes out again as we emerge from the mist.

Photo:  Lush vegetation surrounds Montagne Pelee

Passing through Sainte Marie, on the eastern Atlantic coast, we stop to watch people fishing.  Whether it’s some sort of competition, or just a good place to stand in the water and fish, we don’t know.  We see some of their catch, but they are not very large so maybe it’s quantity not quality here.

Photo:  Fishing at Sainte Marie

Photo:  Watching the fisherman watching the fisherman

  Photo:  A windswept Atlantic coast

We drive out along the most easterly peninsular and look at a couple of resorts.  Its good to see so many locals enjoying the beaches, and enjoying noisily and enthusiastically, but the coast along here is not very pretty and not of much interest to us as off shore there are lots of rocks and reefs and basically not a good area for sailing.  Anyway, by now it’s getting late and we have to do some shopping before returning the car.

We decide to be lazy and go to the big Carrefour near the airport.  BIG mistake.  The car park is jammed (which should have told us something) and so is the shop.  The shelves are stocked with products that are, frankly disappointing and alarmingly expensive.  Fourteen euros for six small chicken breasts?  I am used to the supermarkets in St Martin which are fantastic and good value.  I sort of thought it would be the same here.  Then we came to pay.  Mike (not known for his ability to queue without much sighing and wriggling) chooses the wrong queue.  Well they were all bad actually.  We queue for nearly half an hour, both of us getting more irritated.

Eventually we escape, horrified at the bill for such a few, very ordinary items, and head back to Anse a l’Ane.  We return the car, get Mike’s passport and trudge along the beach with our bags.  The dinghy is full of rainwater which Mike has to bail out before I can get in with the shopping.  A young woman on the dock thoughtfully holds out her torch so Mike can see what he is doing, and her boyfriend unties the dinghy when he sees me having trouble with the painter.  The dinghy is soaking wet and quite deflated so it’s a flopperty, slurpy ride back to Jeannius (those are technical terms by the way).

We are both still too full to eat and settle for a cup of tea and some wasabi peas.  The generator smokes its little heart out trying to get the boat dry and cool but by the time we are ready for bed, it has only managed to get the temperature down from 91 to 79 degrees.  I will suffer tonight when we turn it off!

I had a lovely day.  The interior of Martinique and the west coast are absolutely beautiful.  The island is well kept and its people seem interested in keeping it that way.  People have been friendly and helpful towards us although I have now been on the receiving end of not being understood ie they just repeat everything louder.  I am relieved it’s not just the Brits that do that!