Grenada to Mayreau: 25/08/11 – 26/08/11

By the morning the swell has calmed down somewhat and getting on and off the boat is a little easier.  There’s provisioning to be done so the office get us a taxi and off we go to Spiceland Mall via the police station to report the theft in Ann’s luggage.  As we thought, the police don’t want to know as it is down to the airport authorities in New York. 

Rock (our lovely taxi driver) waits for us while we go around the supermarket which is well stocked with things from Tesco and Waitrose (strangely).  We get everything we need and stagger back to the boat with the bags.  Then all we have to do is wait for the laundry to come back and we’re off.

Photo:  Ann on the back of Jeannius

Photo:  Leaving True Blue Marina and the Dodgy Dock Bar

It’s a cloudy day and a little rough as we go around the corner to St George’s, the capital of Grenada.  Instead of putting the anchor straight down in the anchorage outside, Mike motors slowly around the Carenage, the main shopping area, so that we can get a good look. 

Photo:  The Carenage, St George’s

We discover that all the drinking water we made yesterday for the bottles has a sulphurous smell, somewhat farty if truth be told, although it tested as pure, so before we can hit the sack, all the bottles have to be rinsed out, the water maker flushed and the bottles re-filled.  There must have been an underwater volcanic spring near True Blue (the water did have a yellowish tinge to it there but I just thought it was sand).  This time the water tastes great.

Photo:  My crew (Terry’s knickers acting as windbreaks on the port side of the boat)

On Friday morning we head on up to Carriacou eating luch on the way.  I make a couscous salad, forgetting how difficult it is to eat in the wind.  It seems that more ends up over the table and the cockpit than in our mouths.  What a mess. 

Photo:  Alice and I trying to eat couscous in the wind!

While Mike goes ashore to clear out, Terry and I go for a wander along the main street. 

Photo:  Arriving in the crystal clear waters of Carriacou

People seem very friendly here, especially a local policeman who chats to me before offering me tickets for a fundraising event to be held at the weekend.  When I tell him we won’t be there he asks me for a donation to the cause anyway.  I call Mike over and he pays up.  Well you have to, don’t you?  I tell Mike that next time I will just say we haven’t got any money on us and he points out that if I do that we’ll probably get arrested for vagrancy!

Photos:  Life, signage and Jeannius at Carriacou

It’s then on to Union island to clear in.  One of the boat boys works hard to get us to take either the dock or one of his mooring balls for the half an hour we need – for a price – but Mike anchors us in front of Happy Island and shoots off in the dinghy,  arriving back EC$200 poorer (overtime starts at 1600 hrs!) in time to get the anchor up and get us over to Mayreau before dark.

Photo:  Bathed in light from the setting sun as we approach Mayreau, Ann, Alice and I

Ann and Alice decide they want me to cut Terry’s hair and eyebrows – both are looking a little bushy.  Terry is unsure about both and gets away with it tonight as it’s too dark to do anything outside by the time the anchor is down.  I’m sure they won’t let him get away with it for long!

The Arrival of the Roses: 24/08/11

Ann, Terry and Alice are arriving tonight so I spend some time cleaning the boat and organising things while Mike gets on with ‘boat stuff’.  In the afternoon we motor round to True Blue Marina to await their arrival.

There is a southerly swell as we enter and as we go through the slalom course that is the mooring field in front of the floating pontoons, I can see that it is going to be fun and games getting ourselves secured.  The fact that there are three members of dock crew ready to help is instantly worrying.  Even more of a worry is watching the floating dock move around the marina in the swell!  It’s an ‘L’ shaped dock with a bridge and the three parts are all moving independently and seemingly trying to smash the adjoining parts to pieces. 

Tying up is a work of art, and not a very pretty one at that.  Mike backs towards the pontoon so that we can go stern-to and a member of the shore staff leaps aboard to pick up the mud and gunk covered lines that are lying on the sea bed ready to be attached to the bow.  As he follows the lines along the side of the boat, all manor of marine gunk is strewn all along the sides.  Lovely.  At the stern, a complex system of warps and big, black rubber tyres has been set up to hold Jeannius in place.  Now when I say ‘in place’, I mean they allow her to move in and out with the swell bringing her in about 2 feet from the pontoon then out again to 4 feet away, the tyres acting as springs.  If those babies break we will be catapulted out to sea – or into one of the unsuspecting yachts in the mooring field.  This could be interesting!

We get the air conditioning running and I go and dump a big bag of washing at the marina office – they assure me it will be back tomorrow morning.

The Roses arrive at 7 pm and Ann looks with horror at Jeannius moving in and out from the pontoon.  She stands there, a Johanne-like expression on her face and for a while it looks like I will be making her a bed up on the pontoon, but after equal amounts of encouragement and threats have been thrown at her, she manages to jump on.  Getting their bags on is harder than getting Ann on though as handing 5 big bags over the ever changing gap threatens to land both Mike and Terry in the murky waters.  (They have been away for two weeks already – hence all the luggage.)  However, nothing and no one gets wet and after a quick freshen-up we head over to the Dodgy Dock for a meal.

Getting Ann off the boat is harder than getting her on as she now needs to leap up as well as over, but we manage to get her across again without mishap.  Walking along the pontoon requires walking with your legs in a wide stance – very ladylike – but necessary

We have a great meal at The Dodgy Dock even though it gets incredibly full of students from the nearby university – obviously celebrating something given the volume and excitement – I have a spicy coconut conch curry – always a favourite of mine.

Unfortunately Ann discovers that she has been a victim of theft when she starts to unpack her case.  They had checked in early at JFK airport and this had obviously given the baggage handlers time to rifle through her stuff and remove cigarettes, perfume and jewellery from her case.  Not a nice start for her holiday.

A Bit of Exploring: 22/08/11 - 23/08/11

We have just over two days to explore a couple of islands in the Grenadines that we haven’t seen before, specifically Petit St Vincent, Petite Martinique and Carriacou.  Ann, Terry and Alice arrive on 24 August and we want to see if any of these islands are worth a visit.

The irritating thing is all the checking out and checking in that you have to do around these islands.  Half of them belong to St Vincent and the others belong to Grenada.  Geographically the islands aren’t necessarily near the main island they belong to.  Consequently we sail from Mayreau to Carriacou to check into Grenada, passing Palm Island, Petit Martinique and Petit St Vincent then head back the way we came to Petite Martinique.  Theoretically, Customs turns a blind eye to visiting boats not doing this but we don’t want to test that theory and find ourselves on the wrong side of the law!

Photo:  Hillsborough, Carriacou

We anchor in the only anchorage on Petite Martinique.  It’s a sleepy little place and we are the only yacht there, swinging amongst the many fishing boats.

Photos:  Petite Martinique

We clamber into the dinghy and go ashore to look around.  There is only one restaurant here and walking along the beach we find it with no problem.  The menu looks OK but not cheap for such a remote place.  We go through onto the ‘main’ road and discover that this really is a ‘one restaurant’ island.  There are a couple of tiny shops, a bank, school and no doubt half a dozen churches but that’s it.

Photos:  Local housing on Petite Martinique

Everyone we pass says hello and is friendly but after an hour there really isn’t much more to look at so we find our way back to the boat.

Photo:  Boat building on Petite Martinique

Photo:  Another beautiful sunset

The next morning we decide to head to Grenada.  The sail down is uneventful and we anchor in the bay outside St George’s, the place where we finished our circumnavigation just four months ago.  The last time we were here in this bay was when we arrived to the World ARC fanfare having escorted Basia from Brazil after her collision with a freighter along with Eowyn and Tucanon.  As I put the anchor down, I think back over those events – it couldn’t be more different!

Down Island with Heather and Joe: 14/08/11-21/08/11

First stop – the bloody boxes.  We get one load in the car (the lightest stuff obviously) and take it down to the boat after lunch, just in time to stop the cleaners making up the bed.  Although the boat still being worked on, we arrive at a time when there are no workmen aboard and are able to throw the stuff onto the beds in the bow cabins and leave.

We then go over to CRC to pick up up Heather and Joe.  Quite what we would have done without their help I have no idea.  With my back still not right, I am incapable of lifting anything heavy and Heather is strict as hell about not letting me anyway.

Mike and Joe make multiple visits to Jeannius, laden up to the roof but eventually everything is back on board.  In the meantime Heather and I finish clearing up the house – it looks completely different without all our boxes!

Back on the boat, we start to unpack all the boxes which belong to Penny and attempt to get those stowed first so that we can return them tomorrow then get ourselves cleaned up to go over to Cane Garden Bay where Joe treats us to a lovely meal at Myetts.

I wake up with my back feeling better than it has done all week.  One night on my lovely bed seems to have done the trick but I still want to make sure that it is clicked back into position so at 7 am Mike and I head out for the chiropractor hoping that my information about him starting work early is correct.  It is.  He calls me on the way over and agrees to see me half an hour later.

He’s good and produces a good few cracks.  Out of the corner of my eye I can see Mike wincing at the noise but my back is happier for it and my walk is noticeably more comfortable afterwards.

We pop over to the supermarket afterwards to buy the ice cream to replace the stuff we had scoffed at Mandi and Kirstie’s then drive over to do a last check of the house before returning all the boxes to Penny and Peter.

The workmen are still doing things on the boat so Heather, Joe and I go to do the provisioning while Mike goes to do the checking out.  Finally, everything is ready and at 3 pm we throw the lines off and leave the dock.

We set a course for heading straight down to St Bart’s but within a few hours the winds change direction and strengthen and we are soon fighting 30 knots straight on the nose.  Heather and Joe start to feel seasick and after valiantly fighting it, Heather gives up and feeds the fishes, tied to the boat by the lifeline on her lifejacket.  If she moves, a fresh wave of nausea comes over her so she spends the next 18 hours lying on the cockpit cushions, unable to eat or drink.  Joe feels almost as bad but manages to lie in the relative comfort (if you ignore the noise factor) of the stern cabin.

Mike and I are not immune to the discomforts either and I swallow sea sick pills too.  Checking the forecast, there seems to be no let up in the weather and Mike makes the decision to head for St Martin.  It’s always a difficult and uncomfortable trip there, but is no worse than the course we had set.  However, the wind and sea state makes the journey that usually takes us no longer than 15 miserable hours, takes just over 20.  It is the worst that we have ever had and we arrive in Simpson Bay exhausted.  At least Heather can eat and drink again as the horrible feelings disappear almost immediately we put the anchor down.

As we are all so exhausted, we decide to spend the night at anchor and take the short trip over to St Bart’s tomorrow for a treat.  An unexpected night at anchor is wonderful and we all have a good night’s sleep, waking up refreshed.

Although it is still relatively uncomfortable, the motor to St Bart’s is short and Heather and Joe’s delight in arriving in the early morning sunshine at Gustavia is obvious (as is mine).

Heather and I take full advantage of the showers on the dock then wander off with Joe to do a spot of shopping (in my case, the window variety).  As all the shops start to close for their long midday siesta, we look for a taxi to take us over to Tom’s Beach at St Jean for lunch at the Pink Parrot but all the taxi drivers seem to having their lunch and I have to get the tourist office to get one for us.

The setting is as glorious as ever, and we have a lovely, and as usual, expensive, meal there.

Photo:  Lunch at the Pink Parrot, St Barts

We have the usual fashion show with nubile young women arriving at the table showing off the clothes available at the shop attached to the restaurant but they induce Joe to treat Heather to a couple of things before Heather and I wander down the beach.

Photos:  Tom’s Beach, St Bart’s

With full stomachs we walk down the road to look at the rest of the shops then call our taxi.  Having had a late, blowout lunch, dinner is a quieter affair on board.

Tropical Storm Irene is steadily making her way west and Mike is very keen to get out of her way so the next morning we leave quite early.  Back out in open sea, although we now have a better angle to the wind and are able to sail rather than motor, the sea is still uncomfortable enough to prompt the return of the sea sickness for Heather and Joe.  This is miserable enough at the best of times, but worse when you are on holiday.  The next two days pass immeasurably slowly for them both.  Joe watches unhappily as we pass each island – St Kitts, Nevis, Montserrat, Guadeloupe, Dominica, Martinique, St Lucia and St Vincent, none of which we have time to stop at if we are to have time in the Grenadines, especially the Tobago Cays.  The unscheduled stop in St Martin and the weather and the fact that their time is limited are all factors.

In the end, they take the decision to stop at Bequia rather than pressing on to the Tobago Cays.  Unfortunately the weather is miserable when we arrive and Bequia seems to be shut.  All the shops and restaurants which the guide book says are open until September are closed.  Watching the predicted path of Tropical Storm Irene has worried Joe.  They are due to fly through Puerto Rico on their way home and TS Irene is predicted to become a hurricane as she passes over.  Having made the decision to leave a day early in order to get through PR before she arrives they manage to change their Liat flights from Grenada to St Vincent and on to San Juan.

They leave the next day on the early morning ferry to St Vincent.  And so begins the nightmare journey home for them, one which is to feature one Liat fiasco after another and which takes them nearly four days to get home.

As for us, after such a miserable day’s weather yesterday, Sod’s Law gives us a brilliant day of sunshine and I wish Heather was still here and sailing with us to Mayreau and the Tobago Cays to swim with the turtles off Baradel.  Another time hopefully!

Photos:  Calm seas and a gentle breeze on our way to Mayreau

It’s a lovely passage down to Mayreau and the sea is like a millpond.  Arriving mid afternoon in the tranquil waters of Saline Bay with only half a dozen boats, a bit different to the last time we were here back in April with all the WARC boats for Annie and Jim’s wedding.  I feel quite nostalgic and lonely for a while but a glass of wine and a nice meal aboard, gently swaying in the beautiful anchorage, mellows me out and I relax and enjoy my surroundings.

Photos:  Saline Bay, Mayreau

Photo:  Sunset from Mayreau (Union Island in the background)

Heavenly Housesitting – 05/08/11-13/08/11

This is the first island time that Mike and I have had on Tortola alone and I have been looking forward to it.  Our intention this week is really to sort the boxes out, do a mountain of laundry, slob and socialise.

This goes according to plan on the Friday.  Our only job is to go into town to pick up the new wifi router for the house – de man from Lime says the the existing one doesn’t work.  We visit the new Riteway supermarket again and do a little bit of shopping then get stuck into the DVDs, with Mike making the usual Friday night curry.

However, Saturday does not go to plan.  Bending over to pick an empty plastic bag up off the floor, there is an ominous cracking noise from my lower back and I struggle to straighten up.  I spend the day in bed and the next two days reclining in a chair in front of the TV, getting up slowly to put another load in either the washing machine or dryer.  It’s painful and I am walking like an old woman.

Each day gets a little better but progress is slow.  I start phoning around to find someone who can crack my back into position again and the general opinion is that I need to see Glen Moore but when I phone him he is on holiday and won’t be back until the day we are supposed to be sailing to Grenada.  The only other options are one man whom no one recommends and another one is who is so specialised that he is not affordable!  When he learns the cost of just a consultation with the latter, Mike, very caringly, tells me to take more codeine as it’s cheaper.  Gee, thanks darling!!  (Obviously sick of running around after me at this point!!!)

We discover that we have a visitor.  On going to shut the balcony doors there is a frog/toad clinging to the inside, right at the top.  Even my flash photography doesn’t shift him and Mike has to poke him to make him jump off.  He goes straight under the heavy cooler which Mike unfortunately has to then move out of the way to shut the door as it has been holding it open.  I hope he isn’t squashed.

Photo:  A horny little visitor

By Wednesday I am well enough to have Candace and Malcolm around for lunch and a liberal internal application of wine and an external application of laughter lessen the pain for a while.

Photo:  Mike superglued to his recliner and PC

It starts to dawn on me during the week that Mike seems a bit too happy with my back the way it is (as long as I don’t groan on about it too much).  I am not clamouring to go out and do stuff, stuff which inevitably costs money.  Of course, having a car which has sat redundant on the drive for a few days has cost money but it cost money anyway.

On Thursday, Mike finishes sorting the boxes.  Having gone through them all, he has managed to sort out one carrier bag of stuff he is willing to throw away.  It’s obvious I am going to have to do some more on the quiet! 

We drive into Road Town.  It’s the first time that I’ve  been out in the car since I put my back out and every rut has me clinging to the seat and shouting at Mike to go slowly.  Couple that with the speed bumps on the main road, most of which are pretty dammed invisible and it’s not a very enjoyable experience.

On Friday I meet Candace for a goodbye lunch and we have a good old girly natter having another dose of the same with Sayula and Penny the next day.  My back, although improving, is still bad although at least I have given up the codeine during the night.

I leave a message on Glen Moore’s voicemail telling him that I will be standing outside his office when he opens on Monday morning.  I hope he can fit me in as I don’t fancy being thrown around the boat in this state.

On Saturday evening we get a phone call from Heather and Joe to say that they have arrived at the airport – they are joining us on a sail down to the Grenadines – a new experience for them as they haven’t done any ocean sailing so far.  They land early which sends us flying out of the door to pick them up to deliver them to CRC for the night.  We stop at The Pub to get them a ‘quick’ take-away.  ‘Quick’, in this case, is 50 minutes!  With only four tables taken, we cannot work out why they take so long to come out with the food.  Mind you, it turns out to be fortuitous as Heather and I wander down the dock and find that the high tide has popped Jeannius so high up the dock that all of her fenders are suspended above it and she is rubbing up against the dock itself but we get her sorted for the night.

Having delivered them into the safe hands of Malcolm, we retire for our last land night for some months.  Tomorrow we face the boxes again – that should be fun!

Boxes, bloody boxes – 02/08/11-04/08/11

We had been supposed to move into Mandy and Kirstie’s house today but with the weather still being so unsettled, they were unable to leave and will leave instead on Thursday.  Kindly Candace and Malcolm step in to help us and for two days we stay with them in the apartment at CRC.  Of course this means removing all the stuff that we had on Jeannius (thankfully only about a quarter of what there actually is) and installing it there, Mike and Malcolm dragging all the stuff down the steps while I follow with a couple of plastic bags.

By Wednesday, Tropical Storm Emily has passed us by, roughly 200 miles away and we all exhale a huge sigh of relief.  Thankfully the job of refitting Jeannius ready for her charter now falls to the charter company. 

We arrange to meet Kirstie so that she can show us the way to the house – the road, whilst not quite as terrifying as the one to Penny’s house, is steep but thankfully wide and with far fewer bends.  Then we turn off onto a side road and as we go over the ridge separating the two, the road completely disappears as it is so steep.  Knowing which way to angle the car is guesswork, but Mike guesses right and is suddenly once again behind Kirstie.  This road is single track, untarmaced and full of ruts and runoffs.  There are huge puddles of indeterminate depth that the wheels sink down into and I wait for water to pour into the car.  It doesn’t, and we arrive intact.

Photo:  The steep dirt track to the house

Photo:  Built into the steep hill, our home for the next 10 days

We are given the guided tour and I spot with delight a washing machine and tumble dryer of mammoth American proportions.  I have tons of washing to do and this will mean I no longer have to sit for hours on the hard, albeit, clean, chairs in the laundrette.  I am in heaven.

In the evening I cook curries for the four of us – one a proper dhal and the other a cheat using Pataks.  I doll myself up in a long halter neck dress to keep the dreaded mosquitoes off my lower legs more than anything else but the little bastards cheat and head further up my body making a meal of the top of my arms instead.  By the end of the evening there are 8 bites on one arm and 10 on the other.

By 10 am Thursday the girls have left and Mike and I drag all our stuff back up the stairs and into the car for the first trip to the house.  Having unpacked it we then head over to Penny’s for the first of the two trips to gather the rest of the stuff.  For a while it looks like it will be three trips but with a lot of rearranging and brute force, we manage to stuff it all in and for the first time in three months, Penny and Peter have their house back to themselves.  Now all we have to do it get it all back on the boat next week … shit!

Photo:  Boxes, bags and assorted crap wait to be sorted

With all the stuff piled into a large mezzanine room at the house, it doesn’t look as much as it did piled up at Penny’s – but it’s about ten times more than we can keep so a sort out will have to take place – and soon!  But for tonight, we ignore it all, and admire the view from the huge balcony before settling ourselves down into their comfy chairs and making a start on watching movies from their collection of hundreds.  I can feel some slobbing decadence coming on!

Photo:  View towards Nanny Cay and the Sir Francis Drake Channel

Festival – 01/08/11

Jeannius is now trussed up like a turkey.  In the morning we let the boom down and tie the main sail down.  We remove the genoa completely, folding it neatly and tying it up then remove the sun curtains, rain curtains and windscreen.  We leave the bimini on as it as tight as a drum and as it would be a real pain getting it back on the decision is made to leave it to the last minute, only removing it if it becomes absolutely necessary.

Photo:  Mike on a stripped down Jeannius

Apparently the BVI festival has been on in a somewhat subdued way for a couple of days although we have seen no evidence of it apart from all the hire cars being out.  Today, however, it starts in earnest with a three day holiday and a huge procession which begins on the main road right outside Conch Charters.

It is supposed to start at 2 pm and the amount of noise from open trucks full of ghetto blasters and mega speakers suggests that it might actually start on time but at 2.30 they are just teasing us, doing their warm ups, each truck trying to outdo each other as they wait their turn to leave their position and head into the centre of Road Town.

The effort and co-ordination that must go into the preparation for these processions is incredible – the costumes are works of art and there are hundreds of people wearing them.  Harness that effort and the islands might just have road surfaces that are safe to drive on, electricity and water supplies that don’t go off at the drop of a hat and people who turn up to do work when they say they will.  Dream on!

At around 3.30 pm the first truck takes off but the others still hang around in the ferocious heat, practising their routines and waiting for their turn.  With sweat pouring down their faces, I feel sorry for these people.  They start off eager to perform and by the time it is their ‘go’, they must be exhausted and bored.  I just hope the spectators appreciate it all.

Photos:  Images of Festival

For a community that frowns upon beachwear being worn anywhere but on the beach, there sure is a lot of flesh on show, and I mean LOTS of it.  There are some big girls here and they sure as hell don’t mind shaking their wares.  Maybe us skinny obsessed females should take a leaf out of their books!

As the individual floats and performers take their turn to go into Road Town, we go back to Jeannius, passing piles of rope waiting to be used if the weather takes a turn for the worse.

Photo:  Let’s hope these prove to be unnecessary

Hot and sweaty, we take advantage of the air conditioning.  Without the batalyne covers over the windows which we have removed, the a/c struggles to keep the temperature inside the boat below 85 degrees but it’s still better than the heat and humidity outside.

Tomorrow we should really know what Emily is doing.