We anchored just off the town of Dewey because they have decent wireless internet here. Starwood Hotels has a programming project that Kevin is doing some work on, so we needed to be sure there was good wifi. Starwood also has another project that starts in May and would require both of us, so we've decided to go ahead and haul the boat earlier than planned and head home to Phoenix for the next six months. It all works out: the tenants just moved out of our house, Starwood has some interesting work for us to do, and most importantly it is starting to get hot and humid which is our least favorite boat weather. So we've pushed up our boat storage plans and have commenced a major "eat down" to empty the freezer and pantry. We haul out on Sunday and will spend three days getting the boat prepped for hurricane season before we fly home on Thursday (Boris's first plane ride, that'll be fun). Then we'll just need to buy some acceptable work clothing, since we gave everything to Goodwill before we left for the boat...cut-offs and flip-flops aren't considered business casual, are they?
Where we are:
Location=Isla Culebra, Puerto Rico
Lat=18 18.365
Lon=65 17.851
We anchored just off the town of Dewey because they have decent wireless internet here. Starwood Hotels has a programming project that Kevin is doing some work on, so we needed to be sure there was good wifi. Starwood also has another project that starts in May and would require both of us, so we've decided to go ahead and haul the boat earlier than planned and head home to Phoenix for the next six months. It all works out: the tenants just moved out of our house, Starwood has some interesting work for us to do, and most importantly it is starting to get hot and humid which is our least favorite boat weather. So we've pushed up our boat storage plans and have commenced a major "eat down" to empty the freezer and pantry. We haul out on Sunday and will spend three days getting the boat prepped for hurricane season before we fly home on Thursday (Boris's first plane ride, that'll be fun). Then we'll just need to buy some acceptable work clothing, since we gave everything to Goodwill before we left for the boat...cut-offs and flip-flops aren't considered business casual, are they?
Where we are:
Location=Isla Culebra, Puerto Rico
Lat=18 18.365
Lon=65 17.851
After our fuel fiasco, we hauled up the anchor and motored the 5 miles over to Buck Island. One of our guide books claims that Buck Island has some of the best snorkeling in the world. We were a bit skeptical of that, but after snorkeling there we agreed that it was the best snorkeling we've ever seen - in the Caribbean at least. Hopefully, the photos give some idea of what it was like. There was gigantic elkhorn coral growing 30 feet high, and many more fish than you typically see snorkeling. We saw at least 6 barracuda. There is an underwater snorkel trail with signs labeling different types of fish and telling you which direction to swim. It was definitely worth a stop.
Where we are:
Location=Buck Island, St. Croix
Lat=17 47.238
Lon=64 36.575
We could tell right away that this was a very popular spot. We kept seeing groups of divers crossing the road in full dive gear, walking down the beach, and then disappearing into the water. We donned our gear and headed out. The wall is about 50 yards out from the beach, so we snorkeled over there so as not to waste any dive air. Swimming with 30 pounds of gear on your back is not recommended. I was exhausted by the time we got over there and then I noticed some other divers who were actually swimming backwards so that their tanks were floating under them instead of on their backs. Clever. And much, much easier. When I finally caught my breath we descended next to a marker buoy showing where the wall begins. Right at the bottom was a strange sight. Someone had installed a carousel horse down there. The pole was embedded in the sand and the horse just looked so absurd -- I was kicking myself for not bringing the camera along on the dive. The rest of the dive was good, lots of big corals and sponges but we didn't get to see any actual sea horses -- too bad. We had a bit of a scare when one of the other divers who was down there decided to spear a fish with his spear gun. I looked around and realized that there was at least one other diver who was also swimming around, spear gun at the ready. Holy crap, isn't diving an exciting enough sport as it is? These guys were spearing fish and waving around the bloody bodies as though they were *trying* to attract the attention of some hungry shark. Idiots. Plus, it's just dirty pool to use the advantage of being able to breathe underwater to kill fish. It doesn't seem as sporting as if they were free diving. Anyway, we swam as far and as fast away from the bloodbath as we could.
When we finished the dive, we were going to eat lunch while our tanks were being refilled, but as it turns out both tanks were due for a visual inspection and the dive shop wouldn't fill them without it. The lady said the tanks would be ready the next day, so we left them there and headed back to our boat. We were relaxing in the cockpit after finishing the chore of rinsing down all the dive gear. I noticed something very odd in the water. I pointed and asked Kevin, "Is that...a horse?" Sure enough, somebody was swimming laps around the anchored boats while pulling a horse (the equestrian kind) around the water behind him. I think it's a method for training or rehabilitation. Since then, we've seen "Seabiscuit" out there swimming every afternoon, so today I went out there with the telephoto lens and hopefully got a few good photos.
I just reread my last post and realized that with all my whining about what broke I neglected to mention the one *very important* thing that was fixed before we left -- the autopilot. Having a working autopilot made the 180-mile passage from Antigua to St. Croix a much easier task, that's for sure. Since we arrived, Kevin has also got the genset working again. Fixing the mainsail problem is just a question of how to best thread the sheet so that it doesn't chafe. Kevin's dress sock is still doing double-duty as an air filter (we're not too worried about that one). So all is about as "ship-shape" as it usually is...
St. Croix is really a fabulous island. It's a perfect blend of old and new. A little history: Christopher Columbus landed here (the only documented landing on US soil). First the Spanish, then the French, then English, and finally the Danish took control of the island. The US passed up the chance to buy the Virgin Islands from Denmark for a mere $7.5 million in 1867, instead waiting for the sky-high price of $25 million (in gold) during 1917. But despite being a US possession, there's still a lot of Danish history and architecture all around the island, and you see Danish flags everywhere.
On Sunday we went ashore to check out the town. Downtown Christiansted is dominated by an enormous yellow fort -- Fort Christiansvaern. We started there and worked our way along the waterfront boardwalk, checking out all the preserved buildings. We weren't able to do too much sightseeing our first day, since it was Sunday and most things were closed. But there were plenty of people at the Fort Christian Brew Pub, a microbrewery that we just happened upon during happy hour. Monday it rained, but Tuesday was sunny so we rented a car. First stop: Kmart, to pick up massive quantities of cheap paper towels, cat litter, and toilet paper (God Bless America!). Then we hit the Botanical Gardens, which was located on a former sugar plantation. The ruins were cool, and the grounds were well cared for but I think we've maxed out our tolerance for botanical gardens (same as with forts). So we didn't spend too much time there.
We then headed to Fredericksted (which is dominated by an enormous red fort -- at least the Danish liked to use bright colors, most of the forts we've seen are just a boring brown!). Fredericksted had a beautiful stone walkway along the beach and every building on the main street was appealingly painted in Caribbean-style pastel colors. But it was eerie. There were hardly any people anywhere. Most of the pretty buildings were unoccupied or closed down. I guess they like to keep up appearances for when cruise ships are in town, but it seemed like Fredericksted was like one of those Hollywood backlots -- beautiful facades but not much behind them.
It was getting late, so we did a quick tour of the Cruzan Rum Distillery (can't pass up a tour with a free drink at the end!) and then headed back to the boat. Tomorrow we are hoping to do some diving.
We left Falmouth Harbour, Antigua around noon. It started pouring rain the moment after we pulled up anchor, but luckily the rain didn't last long. We were pretty excited to be finally going downwind for a long passage (it is 180 miles from Antigua to St. Croix, for us it would take about 30 hours). We put up the main and were able to turn the engines off and save some fuel. Woohoo! Kevin threw out a fishing line and a few hours later he started reeling in what we thought was a huge fish. After a great deal of effort to pull it in, it turned out to be a big piece of fishing net. Oh well. But at least so far the passage was going well -- we were sailing, the seas were behind us and not too big, and we were making good time doing 8+ knots. Of course it couldn't last: shortly after it got dark we heard a horrible banging coming from the boom. Sure enough, a block that guides the mainsheet had broken and now the mainsheet line was chafing on an opening in the boom. Crap. If we left the line alone, it would chafe through and cause the boom to swing forward uncontrolled. Kevin tried his best to fix the line, but it was dark and rolly and with the sail under load it really wasn't possible to do much. So, we did the only thing we could do: we lowered the sail and turned on an engine. Kevin was extremely disappointed to have to motor when conditions were perfect for sailing. But there really wasn't any way to repair the problem. So once again, we motored our way around the Caribbean.
We arrived in Christiansted around 3pm on Saturday. Technically we are back in the good old US of A! All we had to do to clear in was make a phone call. So simple. We were both exhausted but managed to make our way ashore to the Golden Rail Bar where we had two Bud Lights and some awesome cheeseburgers. Then we headed back to the boat to get some much-needed sleep.
Where we are:
Location=Christiansted, St. Croix USVI
Lat=17 45.051
Lon=64 41.858
So now I am back in Antigua. I was able to get 8 hours sleep and now we are heading out on an overnighter to St. Croix in the US Virgin Islands. We are preparing the boat this morning and plan to leave around noon. We should have good weather and be able to sail most of the way.
We are still waiting on the autopilot. Early last week, the repair guy said "no problem". Kevin called on Thursday and it wasn't done but the guy said "tomorrow afternoon". We went by the shop on Friday and were told "Monday morning, for sure". On Monday we called and it was "either end of day or early Tuesday". It's now Wednesday and still no autopilot. Anyone ever see the movie "The Money Pit" where Tom Hanks hires contractors to fix up an old house and they keep telling him it'll be done in "two weeks"? In the movie it was hilarious, but in real life? Not so funny. So we sit here in Antigua waiting for sunny skies and a working autopilot. Email us. We're bored.
It's been a quiet week. Kevin has been working on getting our autopilot fixed. We were afraid we'd have to ship it to the manufacturer (in England) to have it looked at, but luckily there is a place here in Antigua that claims they can fix it. Because of the holiday (Easter Monday), it took them a while to order the parts, but it sounds like they'll be able to have it repaired by Monday the 31st. Which is great because we have to get a move on. We are planning to take a trip to Phoenix the first week in May, but we need to get the boat to Puerto Rico where we can board the cat and get the cheapest flights. So the clock is ticking, but we've been waiting on the autopilot. So it will be great to have that fixed. In the meantime Kevin has been feeling under the weather so we haven't done any more sightseeing or much of anything really, which explains the lack of posts. But if any weird sea creatures appear in our toilet, or if some yahoo anchors way too close to us, I'll be sure to let you know.
Where we are:
Location=Falmouth Harbour, Antigua
Lat=17 01.000
Lon=61 46.390
[Kevin's Post]After the craziness of English Harbour, we wanted to just get away from the crowds for a while. We had heard of a cool spot behind the barrier reef on the Eastern side of Antigua from our friends on Adventure Bound. Generally most of the anchorages are on the west side of the islands since that is the side sheltered from the winds. So we decided to go check it out, we were a bit concerned by the forecast of 17' seas which would be arriving in a few days, but Adventure Bound said that they were anchored there in 10' seas and it was still perfectly flat behind the reef. We figured if the reef could keep out 10' seas, it would probably be ok in 17' as well. And if not, we knew that they would be building gradually over several days and we could get out of dodge if things got too rolly.
We arrived at the anchorage to find beautiful turquoise water, several gorgeous beaches, a huge reef to snorkel and only a handful of boats. We motored straight past all the other boats and anchored well in front of everybody. The entire six days we were there nobody even came close to us (except an occasional kiteboarder tearing past). When the swells arrived, they put on quite a show. We watched them smash into Green Island a quarter mile away and shoot spray 75' in the air. After a few days we needed to get off the boat so we decided to dinghy over to Harmony Hall for Lunch. This is a small boutique hotel in Nonsuch Bay with a restaurant and art gallery. The food was good, although outrageously overpriced. For some reason we always seem to end up at these places. We never learn. We probably could have eaten a week's worth of lunches at a 'local' restaurant for the price of this one tourist meal. We always get suckered in by the tablecloths and the view. Oh well, maybe next time we'll wise up.
Where we are:
Location=Green Island, Antigua
Lat=17 04.540
Lon=61 40.268
[Kevin's Post]For the past three days we have been anchored in the southernmost corner of English Harbour tucked up as close to the beach as we dared. English Harbour is rapidly becoming an anchoring circus as race week approaches and more and more boats try to cram themselves into the tiny harbour. We had not been anchored more than an hour when the games began. While I was at customs, a small monohull named Leeamus dropped his anchor about 20 feet from ours and then tied off 90 degrees to us (and the wind) with a stern anchor toward the beach. Great. Not only is he right in the middle of our swing circle, he has two anchors out so there's no chance he is going to swing with the wind. I wasn't in the mood for a fight, so we just set a stern anchor out ourselves to make sure we didn't get too close to him. I figured if it wasn't him, it would be somebody else. . .and as it turned out it was him AND several somebody elses.
So picture this: We are anchored with a bow and stern anchor parallel with the beach about 100 feet off. Leeamus is about 100 feet in front of us anchored perpendicular and stern-to the beach. The following day a 65-70 foot wooden monohull (with an inoperable engine) came in and tried to anchor between us. With the aid of several dinghies, they set out their primary anchor and then ran a line to shore with a dinghy between Leeamus and Solstice. They then tried to winch their stern around and tuck up in by the beach. They didn't have any lines long enough to do this, so they tied a couple of shorter lines together. They apparently remembered they had a 12 foot draft as they hit the bottom closer to the beach. And at about this time the knot they used to join the lines came undone. So now they are swinging a huge circle through the anchorage and would have hit at least 3 boats, except one of their crew was in a dinghy fending them off. They eventually decided they weren't going to get the job done with dinghies and enlisted the help of a powerboat with larger outboards. They repeated the whole procedure and finally got tied off to the beach only to be towed into the marina a few hours later.
Day three arrived and I woke up to find that Leeamus was gone and that we gleefully had our spot all to ourselves again. But before long, a Sunsail charter catamaran also noticed Leeamus had left and they wanted a piece of the action. They took Leeamus's old position only slightly closer to us. Great. Within a few hours Leeamus returns from a daysail and anchors again as close as they could get to their original spot and promptly leave the boat. Within a few minutes we hear whistling and shouting and observe Leeamus has dragged and is now resting against the Sunsail charter catamaran. For the first time in my life I was glad to have a charter catamaran anchored too close to me.
As Leeamus was re-anchoring I saw the stern of a gigantic 60' catamaran heading towards our bow with the intent of squeezing into the 100 foot space between us and the sunsail catamaran and anchoring stern to the beach. Now let me pause for a minute to give you some background. French captains are notorious for anchoring too close (and conversely not caring if you are anchored too close to them). The 60' catamaran had a French crew. The Sunsail catamaran had a French crew. When the Sunsail crew saw what was happening they started screaming at the 60' catamaran. That should give some indication for how insane this little maneuver was. The Sunsail boat was yelling at them in French, I was yelling at them in English, they were just ignoring everybody. They could not be reasoned with and our well-practiced stink-eye was completely ineffective. When they finally got settled, their bow was about 30' from our starboard side and they were oriented 90 degrees to us with a massive bowsprit aimed right at the middle of our boat. Their forward anchor was feet in front of our boat and tied off to their starboard bow, and their stern line was tied off to their port stern. So their two lines were making a diagonal through their boat which is just a bizarre arrangement. I was extremely pissed off and yelled to their captain that our boat would swing side to side and we could hit even if their boat didn't move. No response. Amanda was busy taking photos for our imminent insurance claim. By now it was about 5:30 PM and we had dinner plans with Meggie or I probably would have just moved the boat. I grabbed my mask and snorkel and dove on their anchor to make sure it was set and then I swam to shore and checked on their stern line. I wanted to be damn sure they knew how to tie a knot and we didn't have a repeat of the day before. I think I kind of scared them when they saw me swimming toward their boat. I hope so. I can just picture them talking to each other, 'Zee crazy Ahmeerican - ee is coming for us'. Meanwhile Leeamus is still looking for a spot to reanchor and eyeing the area around our stern anchor. We breathed a huge sigh of relief when they finally anchored far from us.
This morning as we hauled up our two anchors to get the hell out of there I wanted to give the French crews some advice on anchoring etiquette in my best French. But, I could tell it was going to sound something like 'Pardon my French, but [expletive] you [expletive]' so I just kept my mouth shut. Now we are anchored over in the enormous Nonsuch Bay and don't have another boat within 1000 feet. For now.
Where we are:
Location=Nonsuch Bay, Antigua
Lat=17 04.540
Lon=61 40.268
Last night (Sunday) we were invited to get together with Mike & Kylie ("Meggie") and Mark and Jackie ("Kardia") for a hike up to the fort at Shirley Heights for the weekly jump up. Our Lonely Planet guidebook called the barbecue "one of the island's nicest scenes" and claimed that "drinks are reasonably priced". We made plans to head up after Kevin finished uninstalling the autopilot (which hasn't worked since Bequia. More on that later.) By 4:30pm we could already hear strains of steel pan music floating down from the fort (we are anchored just beneath it). So we headed ashore and Mark managed to find the trail. It was truly a steep "hiking" trail, not just a walk up the road, and after about 20 minutes we arrived, breathless and sweaty, at the top. We were ready for some beers for sure.
The place was already crowded with what appeared to be British tourists, and everyone was dressed in what I like to call "cruise ship casual" (clothing that people *think* they should wear while on a tropical vacation, but which just serves to mark them as tourists, etc). We saw a lot of flowy white outfits, crazy printed pants, and a few girls who were more dressed for clubbing (heels and short skirts) than an outdoor barbecue. We could tell THEY hadn't done the twenty-minute hike to get here and had just taken a cab instead. Anyway, it was pretty obvious that we were in a tourist trap when we saw the beer prices (EC$8, a little less than $3, but still more than the average of EC$5 that we're used to). The food looked pretty pricey as well, so instead of eating we just listened to the band play. And they were very, very good. I know most of you are probably sick of hearing how great steel pan music is, but we really enjoy the atmosphere of the live steel band. For some reason, it doesn't sound the same on the recordings. We bought a CD a while ago and listening to it just isn't the same as seeing it performed live.
As it started to get dark, we decided to hit the road. It quickly got too dark to see the trail but we had enough flashlights and we all managed to get down without injury. We all had dinner and drinks at the Mad Mongoose; it was a late night by cruiser standards. Then this morning, Kevin spent the afternoon in town trying to find someone to repair our autopilot. It's been leaking oil so it seems to have a shot seal somewhere. The company that manufactures it is in England, so we are trying to avoid having to ship a 15-pound part back and forth across the Atlantic if we can find someone local who can repair it. A new one would cost $2500, so if we can get the old one working for less than that, it will be worth it. In the meantime, we've been practicing our helmsmanship and are getting really good at steering by hand.
It's been a while since we posted photos, but we've got a good internet connection today so we've added quite a few to the recent photos link.
We left Guadeloupe on Saturday and arrived at English Harbour that afternoon after a pretty good sail. Our friends on "Meggie" hailed us before we got into the harbour and helped us scout out a primo anchoring spot since the harbor was pretty crowded. We've actually got two anchors set because there are so many boats and the wind dies off at night so boats swing every which direction. At least with the second anchor we can keep ourselves far away from everyone else.
This morning we took the dinghy into the Nelson's Dockyard complex. It was originally built in the 1740's and was used as a base for British naval and merchant ships, where they could careen their boats (heel them way over on purpose to clean the barnacles off the bottom) and get other repairs done. Lord Nelson was stationed here for several years (hence the name). After the yard went out of use in the 1800's many of the buildings remained intact, and about 50 years ago they restored everything and put it back in use as a marina. The old brick buildings have been converted into restaurants, hotels, bakeries, etc. and it has become a pretty popular tourist attraction. We enjoyed the museum, which had all kinds of fascinating tidbits of information about sea life at the time. For example: when the flour onboard became infested with weevils, cooks still used it to bake what they called "Weevil Biscuits" for the crew. Aren't you glad I shared that little factoid? And here's another one for you: apparently it was common practice for sailors to wash their clothes in urine (a mild bleaching agent) and then rinse them in saltwater. Yuck. Sure makes me appreciate the washer/dryer we have aboard "Solstice"!
We had lunch at one of the little cafes in the dockyard complex and then took a ten-minute walk up to Fort Berkley where we had great views of the boats in the harbor. It was a decent walk but the weather here in Antigua is kind of like Arizona: very dry. The path was lined with cacti and century plants, and to be honest in the heat of the day it really did seem like we were hiking around back home. Except for the fort, the cannon, and the fantastic view of the ocean, of course. But other than that it was just like Arizona. Anyway, we were melting by the time we got back to the dinghy so we were glad to head home to the boat and take a swim.
Where we are:
Location=English Harbour, Antigua
Lat=17 00.151
Lon=61 45.586
Salt River's
The place to
Have a good time...
(For those readers who aren't from Arizona: there's a Salt River near Phoenix, and every spring and summer thousands of Arizonans put on old bathing suits and ratty shoes and jump in an inner tube to spend four hours floating down the mucky river and roasting in the sun. It's a lot of fun. Really. Especially if you have a custom inner-tube-shaped cooler full of beer. For those readers who ARE from Arizona: I apologize for putting the annoying "Salt River Recreation" jingle in your head. I'm sure you'll be singing it all day long. Sorry.)
So the Riviere Salee divides the island in half and there are two bascule bridges that you have to go through, one at the south end and one at the north. Unfortunately, they only open once per day at the ungodly hour of five in the morning. So we were up and on our way to the first bridge by 4:15. It was still dark but luckily there were no container or cruise ships in the Pointe-a-Pitre port this morning so we were able to maneuver through the channel without having to worry about them. The big shipping channel narrows and shallows up before you get to the first bridge. We were the first ones there but there were three other boats behind us. It was so dark I couldn't see enough to clearly make out the bridge but it looked really narrow. Like, REALLY narrow. We are 21 feet across, and we couldn't find the width of the bridge on any of our charts. One of the guidebooks said it was 7 meters 60, which is about 25 feet, so Kevin had already rigged up some fenders just in case it was too close for comfort. When the bridge opened, I tried shouting slowly in French "How many meters wide is the bridge?" to the bridgetender who replied too rapidly for me to understand. But I did catch the words "You" and "okay" so we proceeded through anyway. I guess the guidebook was wrong because it ended up we had about five feet of clearance on either side. Still tricky, and I'm glad there wasn't any current pushing us around, but at least we didn't scrape up the sides of the boat.
Once through the south bridge, it was about a mile or so to the north one. The short passage reminded us of the Intracoastal Waterway in the US: watch the markers, stay in the narrow channel, or risk running aground. Luckily the channel was plenty deep for us and we were glad to finally approach the second bridge. It opens exactly a half-hour after the first one, so we timed our speed to make it with ten minutes to spare. But the last boat behind us was pretty slow, and sure enough when the bridge opened only three of us came through before he closed it. So we're not quite sure what happened to the last guy. It's possible he ran aground (parts of the channel can get pretty shallow for monohulls).
North of the river, the water opens up into a huge bay called the Grand Cul-de-Sac de Marin. Once we got further away from the river and the mangroves, the water got very clear and there were all kinds of little islands and reefs. The two boats behind us continued on to Antigua or other northern islands. Technically we have already cleared out of the country and should be on our way, but we decided to stay one more night anchored near an island called Ilet Fajou (Can't seem to stop breaking the rules! We must like living dangerously.) Not too many boats choose this route to go through Guadeloupe and we have the anchorage all to ourselves, which is a rare thing in the Caribbean. We're basically out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by water so clear you can see the starfish, conch, and sea cucumbers resting on the bottom. It would be awesome if not for the bugs. The supposedly uninhabited island of Ilet Fajou has a population of about 100,000 tiny flies. And they've all come to visit our boat. Thank god for screens.
Where we are:
Location=Ilet Fajou, Guadeloupe
Lat=16 15.016
Lon=61 31.807
We can't seem to stop breaking all the rules in the French islands. This morning we left the boat for an hour to go ashore and get a rental car. We came back to the boat to discover a big blue sticker telling us (in French) to contact the dockmaster of the Marina Bas du Fort immediately. Turns out that you are not allowed to anchor in the area where we were (although both our guidebooks say it's okay). I guess the dockmaster patrols the area and tells anchored boats to pick up a mooring but since we weren't on the boat at the time we got "stickered". So we moved to a mooring ball. We weren't fined, but the mooring charge is ten Euros/night which is annoying to have to pay since we were perfectly anchored out of everyone's way. Whatever.
The primary reason we rented the car is because Boris is due for his rabies shot in two days. We know that some of the former English islands are very strict about animals being up-to-date on their vaccines so we figured we'd get it taken care of before Boris's certificate expired. The helpful lady at the marina had given us a map and some good directions to a veterinarian, so we dinghied the cat ashore (Boris's least favorite way to travel!) and set off in the car (his second least favorite). At least here they drive on the right hand side of the road, and road signage is pretty good so we were able to find the vet office without too much trouble. But when we got into downtown Pointe-a-Pitre not only was it rush hour but there was no parking to be found anywhere near the vet. Cars were parked (illegally I might add) all over the place -- some were on sidewalks, some were blocking entrances to driveways, and some just parallel parked right behind other parked cars, blocking them in. This went on for blocks and blocks; cars were literally stacked up everywhere there was enough space to squeeze into. So we made another pass and as luck would have it, we made our own space. Back in the states it would've been considered motorcycle parking but it was just big enough for the Citroen rental so we jumped on it. I do find it ironic that boat "parking" is strictly enforced and we had to "park" in a very specific spot, whereas it is obvious that no such rule applies to parking cars.
We walked into the veterinary office and not a soul spoke English. We had no appointment because I figured no one would understand me on the telephone, but the vet was really a great guy and agreed to see us right away anyway. I had looked up the word for rabies (la rage) and was able to make him understand that our cat needed a vaccination for rabies (as opposed to actually having rabies). Even though he didn't speak English he was a very expressive speaker, and he used a combination of words and pantomime to explain: "Regarding the animals and vaccinations, the French island take the attitude..." (here he fluttered his hands and did a little dance to demonstrate that the French could not care less whether the shots are current or not), "...whereas in other islands if the cat has no vaccine..." (here he mimed a gun with his fingers and "shot" Boris in the head). We got the message, and were glad we hadn't waited to try to get him vaccinated in Antigua or someplace strict. (In fact we had heard from other cruisers that some islands really will put the animal down rather than let them go ashore unvaccinated so even though he was making a joke he wasn't just kidding around). Anyway overall it was a very pleasant experience (for us, not for Boris). The doctor was a jokester in any language, and he had us all laughing the whole time. So at least now Boris has all his vaccines -- that's one rule we won't be breaking in the next country we visit.
We brought the cat back to the boat and it was only mid-afternoon so we took off again in the car and headed for Gosier, which is a small town a few kilometers south of here with lots of beaches and resorts. Lonely Planet hinted that the place was a little run-down, and it was true in the sense that all the buildings looked like they were built about 20 years ago and never maintained. But the beaches were packed with people who didn't seem to mind the graffiti and vacant properties behind them. There were some pretty nice views and each hotel was situated in its own cove with its own crescent of beach so we ended up driving along the road and stopping at each one to check it out. We also kept an eye out for a place to eat and since we were jonesing for something familiar I must admit that we both had a Royale with Cheese at MickeyD's (sometimes you just want something that reminds you of home). It wasn't the best choice we could have made: the restaurant was packed and had two children's birthday parties going at the same time so twenty kids were running around screaming their heads off in French. Also the food was outrageously expensive: a Quarter Pounder meal (regular, not large) was US$9.28 each, so dinner was an exhorbitant twenty bucks. At McDonalds. Yikes. I find it funny that afterwards we walked over to the grocery store and bought four bottles of decent French wine for the exact same amount. I'm lovin' it.
So after paying that hefty fine in Fort de France, we knew we would need to have our mail shipped ASAP to get our current US Coast Guard certificate. We debated staying in Martinique and waiting for mail or having it sent to Dominica (the next island to the north) but it made sense to just have it shipped to the capital of Guadeloupe (two islands north) since we knew there was a large marina there that would accept the package for us.
On Sunday afternoon we cleared out of Martinique. Customs in St. Pierre is actually run out of a bar called L'Escapade; instead of a customs officer the person who handles the paperwork does double duty as bartender. Oddly enough she scrutinized our paperwork, as opposed to the actual customs agent in Le Marin who didn't even look at it or our passports. She noticed the expiration date straightaway but of course we had our receipt from the fine so at least we didn't have to shell out another 300 Euros. Monday was a long day -- we left Martinique at 6AM and sailed past Dominica to get to the Iles des Saintes, which are just south of the main island of Guadeloupe. We arrived around sunset, plus it happened to be an election day, so customs was closed meaning that there were no pesky customs officers around to notice our expired paperwork.
This morning we got an early start heading to Pointe-a-Pitre, the capital of Guadeloupe, and we arrived around 11AM. On first impression, the anchorage here doesn't have much going for it. It's very industrial with big shipping docks and a cruise ship dock. The bottom is mud, so our primary anchor (a Delta) wouldn't set but luckily we used the spare Danforth anchor which is perfect for mud and hooked on the first try. We dinghied over to the marina and -- whew! -- picked up our mail with our paperwork before clearing in at customs and immigration. Things started looking up once we walked around the marina a bit. It's a great place; there are all kinds of restaurants, even one called "Arizona" which we'll have to check out. We ate lunch at a 50's-inspired cafe where the pizzas were named after rock-and-roll legends. Think "Ed Debevics" or "5 and Diner" but with a bizarre French flair. It was a bit surreal since the woman manager had hair and clothes that could only be described as 60's chic (none of the other employees were dressed that way though, so I think it was a fashion choice not a work uniform). After lunch we stopped by the supermarket and picked up a bunch of produce and some pain au chocolate. I like it that here you can have a buttery croissant-type thing stuffed with chocolate and still call it a breakfast food.
Where we are:
Location=Pointe-a-Pitre, Guadeloupe
Lat=16 13.607
Lon=61 32.064
Of course when we got back to the boat another sailboat had anchored pretty close to us. We didn't say anything to them because it looked like it would be okay if the wind stayed steady and we all pointed the same way. But just before midnight sure enough the wind died down and the boats started turning in different directions. They started getting pretty close to us so we sat outside and watched for an hour. I guess they were awake, too, because they finally hauled in a little chain so they would be far enough away not to hit us.
Where we are:
Location=St. Pierre, Martinique
Lat=14 44.351
Lon=61 10.652
It was just luck that Kevin happened to stop reading and go upstairs to look around. It was also luck that "Wings" didn't hit us or catch our anchor chain. However, Kevin could see that there were several other cruisers just sitting in their cockpits watching "Wings" take flight and doing nothing about it. No air horn or shouts to warn us as it passed our boat, no nothing. But then again maybe they were hailing us on the VHF, which we did not have on, so I am going to give them the benefit of the doubt. Anyway we lowered the dinghy and sped over. A French cruiser whose boat had also miraculously been spared being hit by "Wings" also came out in his dinghy. The first thing was to let out more chain, hoping that the anchor would catch and stop the boat from dragging further. Kevin and the French cruiser did that while I tried to figure out how to start the engine. The guys got the boat to stop dragging just before it got to the deep ferry channel. Once the boat had stopped dragging, the French guy dinghied back to his boat while Kevin tried to help me figure out the ignition. Our boat starts like a car: turn the key and the engine cranks. This one was a much fancier boat -- we could see switches for the bow thruster, the electric winches, the various electronic equipment, but no key or obvious way to start the darn thing. There were three mysterious black buttons, all labeled "Push", and two unlabeled choke-type pull switches that looked promising. But pushing the buttons in various sequences (and all together) and pulling the levers produced nothing. We could not hear any engine crank or anything.
But at least the boat wasn't dragging anymore, so while I stayed aboard "Wings" Kevin dinghied back to our boat to get our handheld VHF (and a bra, since I had literally jumped out of bed and into the dinghy while in my pajamas). He also stopped by a French boat who issued a security notice on the VHF to warn the ferries (who were passing pretty darn close to "Wings" and waking the heck out of us). While he was talking to the French boat, an American dinghied up and offered to go ashore to look for the owners. Kevin came back to "Wings" and we decided to just stay with the boat and wait til the owners arrived. About half an hour later a dinghy raced from the dinghy dock and it was the hired captain, who thanked us profusely for stopping the boat and "saving his job". Apparently he dropped the owners off ashore and then went to clear in at customs, where someone told him that his boat was dragging. Since the winds were gusting up to 30 knots, Kevin offered to help him re-anchor. We were both pretty surprised that the guy (Greg or Gary, didn't catch the name) wanted to anchor in exactly the same place. That made no sense; if you know your boat didn't hold why would you pick the same spot? We didn't say anything but it was a really odd choice. The anchor got set and Kevin and I returned to "Solstice". In a few minutes he dinghied up with a bottle of Australian wine and thanked us again for saving the boat and his job. THEN he casually mentioned that he wasn't even going to tell the owners about how the boat had dragged and that if the owner noticed that they weren't in quite the same spot he would tell them, "well the boat dragged a little but I re-anchored". So THAT'S why he wanted to drop the hook in the same spot!
Now, he may have been joking and honestly, I hope he was. But as a boat OWNER, for him to joke about deceiving other boat owners after the serious situation their boat had just been through, well that didn't sit right with me. He wasn't kidding about us saving his job -- the holding in the anchorage was excellent and the boat had a huge delta anchor, so the only reason it dragged was that he hadn't put out enough scope and he probably didn't back down on it (he didn't back down when we helped him, either). The owners of that boat will never realize just how serious the situation was -- their million-dollar boat was truly drifting into the ferry and shipping lanes, and it was also bearing down on an 8-foot-tall metal channel marker. So it's possible that he didn't want to say anything to the owners of "Wings" in order to keep his job. But we didn't do what we did to save his job. We did it because we saw a boat in trouble and others have done exactly the same for us. It's too bad we didn't have a chance to run into the owners before we left the anchorage, we would've told them the story of how we were saved from dragging in Luperon and that it happens to everyone. So if anyone runs across a beautiful, blue-hulled, sixty (or so) foot monohull called "Wings" from Seattle (bound for Antigua), tell them we say hello and that Kevin says, "You don't need to have a professional captain to drag anchor, we've managed to do it all by ourselves!"
Where we are:
Location= Anse Mitan, Martinique
Lat=14 33.655
Lon=61 03.175
[Kevin's Rant]When someone tells you they live on a sailboat in the Caribbean, you probably think of beaches and rum drinks and the carefree life. You don't think about customs officials demanding large amounts of cash because your paperwork isn't entirely in order. Every island you pass through requires you to run the gauntlet of customs and immigration (sometimes multiple times as in Tobago) filling out forms in triplicate complete with carbon paper which has been used so many times that it is useless. More often than not, the officials are surly people who hate their jobs. This has always been a pet peeve of mine, these people are the first impression of their country to the tourist (and most of these countries have tourism-based economies) and with a few exceptions they are generally unfriendly, unsmiling and unaccommodating. I have traveled thousands of miles to visit their backwater little island and spend my money, you would think they would be singing show tunes as I fill out the paperwork. Today we were fined 300 Euros (about $450 thanks to Mr. Bush) because our US coast guard documentation expired 4 weeks ago. Except our coast guard documentation didn't actually expire 4 weeks ago. Our registration is current, it is just sitting in our mailbox in Florida. We cleared into Martinique last week and they didn't ask to see our passports, or our previous port clearance, or our boat registration. Nothing. Today we made the mistake of anchoring off Fort De France (the capitol of Martinique) and within 5 minutes we had a customs boat with 4 guys tied to us asking "Do you have anything to declare?". Despite the fact that we had already cleared into the country, they wanted to see all our paperwork and got really excited when they saw that our US Coast Guard Certificate expired Jan 31. Score one for the Martinique Customs force, major threat thwarted. God knows what sort of havoc we could have wreaked with our expired US Coast Guard Certificate! Apparently the threat is neutralized with a fine of $450. We explained to them that the paperwork is in the mail, and probably 3 of the 4 guys would have let it slide, but the head honcho decided to make an example of us. Viva la France. If the officials had actually been doing their job when we cleared in we could have gone back to St. Lucia and taken our chances with a fine in Eastern Caribbean dollars. (Switching gears, now I intend to rail against the US coast guard) Our new certificate was only mailed about a week before the previous one expired. Not much time for it to arrive, get to our FL mail service and get to us in parts unknown. We have owned the boat just under 3 years, yet somehow our 3rd year of registration is already 4 weeks expired. Why is this? If I renew my car registration I get another 12 months right? Well, not so with boats. You renew a month early, your registration expires a month early. Laughably, the renewal process is nothing more than a single signature on a one page form that you fold up on itself, staple and mail to the coast guard. Then they mail a certificate (easily duplicated in 10 minutes at Kinkos) which is exactly the same as the last year's except for the 8 at the end of 2008 is now a 9.
[Amanda's Post] Switching gears once again for those curious about the fate of the octopus who'd taken up residence in our commode, here is the brief conclusion of THAT saga: After two days Kevin finally decided to "flush" the guy reasoning that if he'd managed to survive being sucked through a tiny intake valve his chances of making it past the three-blade macerator were pretty good. For my part I would've let the guy live in the toilet indefinitely, but Kevin didn't want us eventually explaining to prospective boat buyers why there was a three-foot octopus residing in the bathroom. Anyway, I like to think he made it out alive and is posting a similar account on his octo-blog.
As for the evil French Customs boat and Kevin's rant, let me say this: our US Coast Guard paperwork was expired, and we knew it. It was a combination of bad timing, bad planning, and bad luck that we got caught with our pants down. We've bragged about how easy the customs process is in the French islands because they don't charge a cent or look at your papers, etc. But the reality is that they DO care about one thing and one thing only -- that the boat must be federally (not state) registered and have the paperwork to prove it. Again I say bad planning, bad timing. IF we had our mail sent while we were back in St. Lucia (we cleared into that country a mere two days before the expiration date)...IF we had chosen to anchor among the five HUNDRED boats at Anse Mitan instead of the FIVE boats in Fort de France...IF the customs agents had only come by the boat while we were ashore exploring the town...IF the fourth guy (the other three seemed eager to let it slide) hadn't been the boss...if, if, IF! The fact is, we broke a rule and they caught us. A very expensive lesson.
We were lucky one of the four guys spoke great English and was able to explain what was going on. We even got him on our side when we explained that we could have the current paperwork FedExed within two days...but his boss didn't budge. A third guy spoke Spanish and, while the English-speaking guy and the boss-guy were taking our money and filling out paperwork, he and I had a pleasant conversation about learning Spanish in school and traveling in Latin American countries. Whereupon the boss-guy started using HIM as a translator instead of English-speaking guy! THAT was a comedy of errors: boss-man says something...Spanish guy translates to me...I translate to Kevin...talk about playing telephone! It was definitely stressful. Finally I turned to English guy and said in French: "If it's possible, can we please just use English?!". Anyway, the English guy was as polite as could be and from what I could tell his boss was just a stickler for the rules. Which, honestly, we had broken. And now we've paid the fine for it. As they motored away, one of them made sure to snap a photo of "Solstice" for their records. The boat equivalent of a mug-shot. Fan-tastic.
In other news, later in the day we went ashore and explored the capital of Fort de France. Very European--lots of pedestrian walkways edged with boutiques, bakeries, and shops selling perfume and dainty women's shoes. We managed to find a supermarket and you won't be surprised to hear we bought four bottles of their cheapest wine. Oh, yes, we'll be drinking tonight...
Where we are:
Location=Fort de France, Martinique
Lat=14 35.953
Lon=61 04.137
***12 Hours Later***
So no, I haven't been staring at the toilet all day. We left the thing alone, hoping it would find its own way out of its predicament. But just now, Kevin went down there and tried to figure out if the thing was still in there and sure enough it was. And with his own eyes he saw it crawling around down into the hole. No joke. So I am truly not making this up; there is another witness. Kevin is not completely convinced it's an actual octopus, but I still think it's something with eyes and a bunch of legs so if it's not an octopus it might be a squid. We aren't really sure what to do. We didn't want to flush it down the toilet because it has a three-blade macerator (like a garbage disposal) that will surely kill it, and to be honest I kind of feel sorry for it. I mean, the little guy is obviously having a really, really bad day. Kevin tried to fish it out with a disposable plastic spoon but it got scared and crawled further down. Yeah, I know "Ick" but what else are we supposed to do? This whole thing is too weird. I think Kevin has given up for tonight so we'll just see what happens in the morning.
Thursday morning we motored three miles from Le Marin to Sainte Anne, which is one of the biggest anchorages we've seen: a huge stretch of beach, and water about 25 feet deep for about a mile outwards of the beach, all good sandy holding. What was great was you could probably have fit a thousand boats in there easily, but on the day we arrived there were only a hundred or so and everyone was well spread-out. Except of course for the one boat that came up a couple hours after we anchored and decided to anchor within 200 feet of us, then proceeded to have a loud shouting match with the husband yelling obscenities in French at his wife. Why we always attract the wackos, I'll never know. We did go ashore and hiked up the hill to get a good view of the anchorage. The town of Sainte Anne was quaint, like a weekend tourist town with lots of little souvenir places and restaurants.
The next day, despite the forecast of 20-plus knots gusting to 30, we decided to head to another anchorage. Our friends on Jacumba are southbound and we wanted to meet up with them before they crossed to St. Lucia. Because the wind was howling we decided not to raise the sails even though we'd be going downwind. As we left the Sainte Anne anchorage, the wind was literallly screaming at us. Specifically, it was screaming "Stay where you are, you idiots, can't you see the whitecaps?!" But we didn't listen, and we could literally feel the wind and waves propelling us (even without sails) at speeds upwards of 8 knots. We were surprised to be pretty much the only boat going downwind, which even in thirty knots is relatively comfortable compared to the fifteen or so boats we saw bashing to windward. We finally arrived at Grand Anse D'Arlet and had just dropped the anchor when a huge gust of wind pushed the boat back so fast that we yanked hard on the chain. We both heard a loud "PINGGG!" and watched in horror as a piece of our bow roller (which centers and guides the anchor chain) went flying through the air and landed in the water. We were able to get the boat situated and amazingly I found the piece sitting shinily on the bottom near some coral. One of the ends had sheared completely. Whoops. Guess we'll be looking for a machine shop while we're here, better get out the French dictionary.
But we did get to spend the evening catching up with our friends Mike and Renee on Jacumba, who are also from Phoenix, and are friends with Kevin's brother. We have emailed them but never met them in person, so it was nice to finally meet them face to face over drinks and appetizers.
Where we are:
Location=Grand Anse D'Arlet, Martinique
Lat=14 30.281
Lon=61 05.383
We cleared in at customs and immigration this morning, which is usually a pleasure in the French islands. However, Le Marin is all modern and sophisticated and instead of filling out paperwork with something as archaic as a pen they require you to enter the data by computer. But there are only four workstations and there was a long line of people waiting. Making things worse was the excruciatingly slow rate at which all four people were typing. I say typing, but really every one of them was using the hunt-and-peck method, which is normally fine but when ten people are waiting to use four PC's it can be annoying. So it was finally our turn to step up to the plate and since I am the faster typist, I sat down at the keyboard. Qnd proceeded to ;istype qll;ost every word. Apparently French keyboards are not qwerty -- seems they have rearranged the thing to suit their own language, so 'q' is where 'a' should be and 'm' is hiding way off to the right with a semicolon taking its place. No wonder everyone was typing so damn slowly! But we finally finished and printed our form and were good to go. The customs official didn't even look at our passports or our St. Lucia paperwork. The French couldn't care less who you are or where you've been. Bienvenue a France!
The town of Le Marin isn't anything great as far as tourist attractions go, but it is chock full of boat chandleries, sail lofts, mechanics, and pretty much anything you'd want if you needed to work on your boat. We didn't need any of that stuff so we headed off to the grocery store, which puzzlingly is simply named "Ed", not sure why. We didn't need any food but we did want to get ahold of some wine. French wines are cheap here (well cheaper than in the US anyway; there's no duty because we are technically in France) so we made a resolution to try a few bottles. Neither of us knows the first thing about wine so we formulated a brilliant plan: hang out in the wine aisle until some French-looking person wandered by to pick up a bottle and then just get whatever they got. The master plan was foiled by not one but two French matrons who each grabbed a box of wine (a la Gallo) instead of one of the many bottles on the shelves. Argh. Determined to return to the boat with something in a glass container, we ended up randomly choosing a white Bourgogne chardonnay and a red Brouilly (which I can't even pronounce since it has too many l's. Must be good, then.) Wonder which one will go best with pizza, since that's what I'm making tonight. Classy, I know. Bottoms up!
Where we are:
Location=Le Marin, Martinique
Lat=14 27.947
Lon=60 52.547
Speaking of accidents, Saturday morning Kevin dinghied over to the fuel dock to fill our jerry jugs and watched two boats damage themselves while getting fuel. The first one was a catamaran -- the wind was blowing him hard onto the dock and instead of using his engines to maneuver himself off the dock he just put them both in full throttle forward and tried to power off the dock. Worked really well until he tried to turn the bow to the wind, his transom scraped pretty hard against the pilings and he got pushed back up against the dock. Ouch. Then a powerboat beat up his props trying to tie up inside the T-head where the water was too shallow for his boat. I guess we're just glad it wasn't us. When the wind starts pushing you around, docking can be a real pain in the butt.
That afternoon we decided to head over to Pigeon Island where we'd heard there was a good book exchange. So we took about twenty paperbacks and headed across the bay. We pulled up to the dinghy dock and a woman wearing a National Trust shirt asked us to pay the park fee of US$5 per person, even though we were just going to trade books at the bar. So we paid our fee, traded our books (at least the book swap was free), and decided to explore a bit since we'd already paid for it. Pigeon Island (not really an island -- a causeway built in 1970 links it to the mainland) has an interesting history. The first European to settle on St. Lucia was a Frenchman named Jambe de Bois (literally "leg of wood", yep a real live pegleg), and he used the island as a base for raiding Spanish ships. Later the Brits established Fort Rodney on the island, and even more recently the US used the island as a signal station in WWII. Imagine getting that plum assignment, instead of being shipped off to Normandy. Although the locals must not have been too happy about the outpost, since the interpretive display referred to it as "the US occupation", failing to mention that the US paid to lease the island and established the station to keep an eye on Martinique (a French territory) after the fall of France to the Germans. But who wants to split hairs? Anyway, after a bit of a hike we reached the fort which was high up on the hill with views of both the bay and the Caribbean Sea. Big kudos to Kevin for doing the hike with a backpack full of books.
We scaled the peaks one day and dove the depths the next. My dad, Kevin, and I all went for a two-tank dive at the base of the Pitons. Both dives were drift dives but the second one "Superman's Flight" was the best. We got to swim with a turtle and we seemed to "fly" over the bright corals below. So we definitely got the most out of our time in Soufriere. We headed back up to Marigot hoping to hit the Friday night Fish Fry in Anse La Reye, which Kevin really wanted to go to, but it wasn't meant to be. Not only did cabbies want US$80 or more (to go a mere 2 miles, mind you. For reference, a cab ride the whole length of the island to the airport actually costs less: US$70!) but also the weather was not cooperating. It rained right up until we made the decision not to go, and then sure enough it was clear for the rest of the night. So we hung out in Marigot instead and ate dinner at Chateau Mygo, where at least one of us was happy: the music they were playing seemed specifically selected for my dad (all Bee Gees, all the time).
For my dad's last few days in St. Lucia, we headed up to Rodney Bay where all the resorts and good beaches are. He and Suzie definitely got in some good beach time (those of you who know me well know that I'm neither a sun person nor a sand person, so I just hung out on a chair under an umbrella, cold Piton in hand). We also took a side trip to a small inland town called Babonneau to check out the rainforest. And the zip lines. I had never done a zipline before, but the whole experience was worth it. First we rode up in a "tranopy" gondola above the rainforest canopy while our guide Akim pointed out interesting flora and fauna. Then we got to zip through 10 different lines, flying high above the forest floor (we'll try to post videos in the next day or so). It was definitely a cool and different way to see the rainforest.
On their last day in town, we headed into Castries, the capital of St. Lucia, to see the straw market. It's really more than a straw market; they have all kinds of handicrafts, clothing and souvenirs. It was bigger than the ones we'd been to in the Bahamas and Grenada, but just like those markets everyone is pretty much selling the same thing, so we can't really figure out how all the vendors stay in business. Most of the touristy "St. Lucia" T-shirts and Polos were about US$12-20. However, after we tired of the market we wandered around the downtown and found a Hobie outlet (where the locals must shop) and saw jeans, cute tops, and all kinds of good stuff for EC$10-30 (roughly US$4-11). I guess the ladies at the market sell one Bob Marley t-shirt to a cruise ship tourist and then go buy themselves a couple new outfits with the profits. Nice. If I ever go back to work, maybe I'll try to get in on that racket.
Where we are:
Location=Rodney Bay, St. Lucia
Lat=14 04.473
Lon=60 56.946
When my dad arrived and said he wanted to hike one of the Pitons, we humored him and said "Sure, great idea" thinking that once he saw the size of the mountains he would change his mind. He still wanted to go, but we agreed it might be best to just go halfway up. We called ahead and made arrangements to hire a guide (the forestry department requires you to go with one) to hike Gros Piton. Gros Piton (2671 feet) is the more hikeable Piton. Although not as tall as Gros Piton, Petit Piton is very steep and at some points you have to climb on fixed ropes. So we met up with Mervin, our guide, and set off up the mountain. Somewhere along the way, the plan for only hiking halfway up turned into going for the summit. Round trip, it's a four-hour hike: two hours up and two hours to get back down. It's an elevation change of 1900 feet from trailhead to summit (compared to 1100 feet for Camelback Mountain in Phoenix). The last half of the ascent was extremely steep and we were all feeling it. Except Mervin, of course. He didn't even break a sweat. It was also impressive that he was hiking in what appeared to be women's shoes (plastic multicolored jelly sandals).
Anyway the view from the top was priceless. There was a southern viewpoint where you could see St. Vincent on a clear day (too hazy for us), and a northern viewpoint with views of Petit Piton all the way to Martinique (again, not clear enough the day we went). I will say that the hike back down was excruciating for me, very hard on the knees and joints. It felt like it took forever but finally we got back to the village of Fond Gens Libre, where a nice lady was waiting with a cooler full of drinks, and of course a gift shop full of T-shirts.
Where we are:
Location=Soufriere, St. Lucia
Lat=13 51.433
Lon=61 03.913
The next day we hiked to a scenic lookout over Marigot Bay. We had to walk through Marigot Beach Resort to get to the trail. You know it's steep when the resort gives its guests the option of walking up 250 stairs or taking a mini-cable car. We took the stairs, plus the hike, and though my calves were sore the next day the view was totally worth it. Marigot Bay has more tourist resorts than Soufriere, so there is definitely more nightlife. We decided to do a pub crawl that evening. We started off at JJ's Cantina for happy hour, where we were approached by Christine, an island lady who braids hair. She gave Suzie a "gift" of two braids; she claimed she could braid "like a computer" and she wasn't kidding -- you could barely see her fingers they were moving so fast. (She was so good that Suzie actually had Christine do the rest of her hair the next day.) Our next stop was the Rainforest restaurant. Our guidebook said it was a fancy place, but we weren't prepared for the valet service at the dinghy dock. It was dark, and a well-dressed guy walked out with a flashlight and guided us to the right spot for the dink (in a small lagoon lit with underwater lights) and helped tie us up. Finally we headed over to the Hurricane Hole bar, where three of us had the lobster dinner and Kevin enjoyed the best burger yet in the Caribbean (our apologies to Chris and Barb -- the burgers down at the Oasis are a close second!). By this time we were all a little hammered, so we skipped the other two bars in the bay and headed back to the boat. My thanks to the makers of Piton for my killer hangover the next day.
Yesterday afternoon we headed over to Anse Cochon and found some pretty good snorkeling. There is a wreck (the Lesleen M) lying in about 65 feet of water just a few hundred feet from our boat. The visibility was good and we could see the whole length of the wreck (165 feet). It was a freighter that was sunk on purpose to create an artificial reef. There were quite a few fish, a lot of sergeant-majors and we even saw a green turtle swimming around down there. Nearer to shore there was some excellent snorkeling as well. Today we'll head back down to Soufriere so our guests can get a glimpse of the real Pintons, er Pitons.
Where we are:
Location=Anse Cochon, St. Lucia
Lat=13 55.667
Lon=61 03.513
