Falmouth Harbour, Antigua

Long time no post. Sorry about that. Not much has been going on, really. We arrived in Falmouth Harbour on Easter Sunday. Just after we dropped anchor, our friends Richard and Harriet ("Perseverance", same make as our boat only newer) radioed and invited us to a potluck aboard their boat. So I quickly made cobbler and we headed over to join three other couples for Easter dinner. The food and company was great and we were glad not to just sit at home and have "Easter Pizza" (which was what was going to be our menu if we hadn't gone to the potluck).

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

Green Island, Antigua

[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

Nonsuch Bay, Antigua

[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

English Harbour - Shirley Heights Jump Up

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.

English Harbour, Antigua - Nelson's Dockyard

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

Guadeloupe - Riviere Salee

The island of Guadeloupe is shaped like a butterfly. Pointe-a-Pitre is located near the bottom of the butterfly's body. In order to get to Antigua (our next stop, almost due north from here) we had two choices: we could go south and then north around the westward "wing" of the butterfly, which would be a detour of more than 50 miles. Or, we could save a lot of time and mileage by going straight between the butterfly wings via the Riviere Salee (French for "Salt River").

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

Pointe-a-Pitre - Le Veterinaire

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.

Pointe-a-Pitre, Guadeloupe - Legal Aliens

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

St. Pierre, Martinique

The anchorage in the town of Saint Pierre always seems to be crowded. There's a big bay but only a narrow shelf where it's shallow enough for cruising boats to drop anchor, it drops rapidly from just 25 feet deep down to 80 feet or more. On our first try we ended up a little too close to another boat for our liking, so we tried again much further down the beach and got settled. Then we went into town to do a little sightseeing. Our first stop was the Musee Volcanologique, which houses artifacts and photos of the eruption of Mont Pelee in 1902. Before the eruption, Saint Pierre was a bustling hub full of ships importing and exporting goods. That all changed on May 8, 1902. The volcano erupted and it took just ten minutes to destroy the town, covering it with hot ash. Nearly 30,000 people were killed in those ten minutes. In "after" photos, it looks more like an atomic bomb was dropped -- twelve ships in the harbor sank and there were no buildings left, just some walls here and there. The museum was full of weird displays of ordinary household objects completely transformed by intense heat. There were nails and screws from a hardware store that looked like a surreal sculpture all fused together. Wineglasses and vases were melted like they were wax, and there was a large metal church bell that had been crushed almost flat. Despite all this destruction there was one survivor, Louis Cyparis, who was in a solitary cell in the jail when the eruption happened. He was badly burned but survived several days drinking water that leached into his cell. What was surprising is that his cell is still intact and you can go inside. We walked over to where the jail was and took a look. The walls of the cell are a good two feet thick. The foundations of the theater next door are still there, too, so it was really interesting to walk around and see what they had excavated. Most of the rest of town looks a little ramshackle, and part of that is due to the fact that they rebuilt using the walls left standing after the eruption. So everywhere you look there's evidence of what happened here a hundred years ago. Mont Pelee is still active but is closely monitored and hasn't had any major activity since 1932.

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

Anse Mitan, Martinique

Will the excitement never end? This morning we were still anchored over in Fort de France. I was down in the bunk still half asleep when Kevin shouts down, "Hey Amanda, are you awake?". I said, "Yeah, why?". "Because I'm going to blast the air horn in a second here and I just wanted to warn you." Ah, our good old trusty air horn, what would we do without it? "Wings", a sixty-foot boat that had been anchored several hundred feet in front of us, was now somehow forty feet behind us and moving away fast. No one onboard responded to the air horn because there was no one onboard. The thing was heading into deeper water and if someone didn't do something soon we knew it would drift merrily off on its way to Central America.

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

Fort De France, Martinique

[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

Grand Anse D'Arlet - There's a what...in the where?

File this one under "O" for "Only On A Boat". I was sweeping the floor in the bathroom when I happened to glance over in the bowl of the toilet. I noticed an odd-shaped object in the water. (Refrain from juvenile jokes, please.) Remember that we have salt-water-flush toilets, which means that the water in the bowl is coming directly from the ocean. It's not unusual to have little bits of sea grass or the occasional brine shrimp come through the water intake. Now I know this is gross, but being curious I bent down to take a closer look at whatever it was. (Stop with the jokes.) I couldn't figure out what I was looking at, so I used the button to add a little water to the bowl and...the odd-shaped thing moved! First one leg twitched, then a second leg and I realized I was looking at a thumbnail-sized octopus! I stared for a second and then went running up the stairs to find Kevin, who was outside trying to bend back the metal piece for our broken bowroller. "You are NOT going to believe what I just saw!" I led him downstairs to the toilet, and of course we must have made too much noise or vibration coming into the bathroom because I watched as the octopus quickly jetted down the hole and out of sight, right before Kevin could see it. I'm sure Kevin was thinking something along the lines of, "Look I've got a broken boat here and apparently now my wife has gone off the deep end." But it was there, I swear! It's got to still be down there somewhere, so maybe if I'm patient enough the little guy will come back up to the surface for a look around. So, if anyone needs me, I'll be in the bathroom, staring at the toilet.

***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.

Grand Anse D'Arlet, Martinique

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