Harts At Sea

Antigua Classics Regatta, the View from the Top

Sunday, April 22, began with a hike up in the hills along the coast of Falmouth Harbor. EW and I ended up perched high above the same bay we’d enjoyed on Friday. Instead of picking grape leaves and snorkeling, we watched the start of the day’s races.

 

We had a great view of the morning’s events … and saw Phin and Joanna who were back in their dinghy.

 

 

 

EW kept an eye on things with binoculars.

 

 

 

 

We arrived in time for the start of the Traditional Classes “Alpha” “Bravo” and “Charlie”, which include traditional Caribbean boats, like Jambalaya.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s their start:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then we, and the spectator boats and racing yachts, await the next start.

 

We didn’t attend the Skippers’ Meeting, so all I know is this start is the “White Flag Class”. That will mean essentially nothing to you. But they are pretty boats. Many were also over early. None were made to do “360’s”. We learned afterward that anyone over early loses five minutes on their overall time. Hmmm. May be worth it.

 

Here’s most of the class after the start. Those guys behind, aren’t really behind at all. They won’t lose any time due to starting early.  (Note, the boats going in the wrong direction are in a different fleet.)

At the “Purple Class” start, either Tuiga missed the start altogether, or was over early and insisted on doing a 360. In any case, she turned back and started again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joanna and Phin were up close and personal with Tuiga’s second start on Sunday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s them in the dinghy off Tuiga’s port quarter.

 

The “Pink Class” is for classic yachts, such as Elena, a gaff schooner.

 

 

 

 

A number of the crew of the white boat are taking photos of the blue boat.

That’s what the Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta is all about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The final class to start is the “Spirit of Tradition” class – new boats which pay homage to traditional ideas. (Sort of.) (In ways I can’t see.)

But they are magnificent. It’s the only word one can use to describe them. Well, that and fast.

There were four boats in the class.

After the start, EW and I packed up our binoculars, camera, and water bottles, and headed back down the hill to meet up with Joanna and Phin. We had work to do.

For more information on this year’s Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta– visit their website.

New to Harts at Sea? I've written a book -- The Harts At Sea Sailing to Windward -- about our first year of cruising, from Maine to Grenada. It's available on Kindle (or Kindle for PC or Kindle for Apple) for only $2.99. 

Boat P**n–Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta

Schooners, and Cutters and Yawls! Oh my!

There are four days of racing at the Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta.

Thursday- Single Handed Race. We were informed that each boat may have one person on board to help them get to the starting area and set the sails. That person then goes below for the duration of the race.

Friday – Monday One race each day, with the first class beginning at 10:00 AM.

In addition, there is a tea, gig racing, a boat parade, and many, many parties with music, food, and drink.

What’s not to like?

We had three different views of the races. On Friday, we watched some of the starts from the tender to s/v  Lion’s Whelp with Phin and Joanna Sprague.  On Sunday, EW and I hiked up the hills between Falmouth and English Harbors to catch the view from on high, and on Monday we took four friends out on La Luna to watch the start and to join us on a sail to Jolly Harbor. In between, we visited with cruising friends, did some work on La Luna, had lovely meals ashore, and walked the docks before and after the races.

Here are a few of our favorite photos from Friday.

 

If it’s got a bowsprit, then someone is nearly always out on it. working or watching. At left, on Tuiga.

Below, on Zaca A Te Moana

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This “Spirit of Tradition” class boat is from Germany. This class has magnificent yachts, “built recently using modern methods and design, but retaining the original grace and style of the old classics.” They are breathtaking.

 

 

Tuiga, below, is owned by Prince Albert of Monaco. We didn’t see him at the regatta and don’t know if he participated.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spinnaker!

 

 

              Sails and Clouds

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rebecca,  Spirit of Tradition Class

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Classic Ketch

 

 

 

 

And on the dock:

 

Looks like Old Bob’s fender had an overnight gender change.

 

                                    Interesting gangway for boarding, no?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This crew member (who races) allows humans to use it too.

 

And poses for photos -- at the cost of one belly rub.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To lighten the load, most boats removed all un-necessary items to a pile on the dock. Guess they didn’t want to race with a bicycle on board.

 

New to Harts at Sea? I've written a book -- The Harts At Sea Sailing to Windward -- about our first year of cruising, from Maine to Grenada. It's available on Kindle (or Kindle for PC or Kindle for Apple) for only $2.99. 

The Post-Christmas Buying Expedition-West Marine Day

 

We’ve had a busy week – oh jeeze—it’s been nearly two weeks, hasn’t it? Let’s see. We had Christmas (more to come in later posts), then on the 26th we sailed to Culebra to check into Puerto Rico. On the 27th we headed to Fajardo, anchoring off of Isleta Marina as suggested by a bunch of cruisers. “If you are shopping in Fajardo and San Juan,” they all said, “anchor at Isleta Marina and take the ferry to shore.”  We were definitely shopping in Fajardo and San Juan, and planned three days for this chance to shop US stores at US prices. This wasn’t a fun little shopping trip. We had three days to find and purchase items we needed—highest on the list was a new dinghy, followed by clothes for me.

The 28th was West Marine Day, and  we dinghied to Isleta Marina, and met Polito, who has a sailing/racing/charter boat in the marina. This compact and lively seventy-something gentleman speaks accented English in a raspy voice, and is charming. He told us where we could tie the dinghy and complemented us on La Luna. He also had the ferry wait for us while we secured the old grey mare. The ferry is owned by the marina/condo complex, and I assume that condo owners and slip holders take the ferry for free. Nevo, the marina dock master, makes the first ferry run from Isleta Marina each day, then stays at the shore dock, taking $5.00 per passenger for the two-way trip. That’s a bargain.

After eating a ton of food over the Christmas holiday, and then not getting off the boat for two days, I convinced EW that we could easily walk to the West Marine store. He participated in this decision, by pulling up a map on the iPhone and showing me that it was only 2.7 KM from the shore. Once we had arrived on the mainland, he said, “Oh, that wasn’t right. I couldn’t get the map to work properly.” Oh. So, EW asked Nevo for directions, explaining we wanted to get some exercise. Nevo told us when to turn left and right, then raised his eyebrows, and said, “You’ll get a walk, all right.” Any other cruising couple would have considered that a clue, but we still remember the many times we were discouraged from walking a mile in the Bahamas.

The actual distance was over four miles, part of which included a mile or so on a limited access road (PR #3) with thankfully a wide breakdown lane. No photos were taken that day because I had the Officiant Bag full of documents and other things. I should have carried the camera and let EW carry the Officiant Bag. Ah well. As EW said, “You wanted a walk. I give you a walk.”  We were a bit nervous about the limited access part, and asked another gentleman for directions. He was very specific, “Take Route 3, and go straight through 6 traffic lights. You’ll see McDonald’s. West Marine is behind McDonald’s. Six traffic lights didn’t sound too bad. The problem was it was about a mile and a half before the first one. It was an adventure. Here’s a photo taken from the rental the next day. Yep, we walked this.

We made it to West Marine and sought Estella, the Operations Manager for that store. We had shopped at this store in March on our way to the Eastern Caribbean and found the staff to be helpful, but they did not stock a lot of items for larger sailboats. EW had planned wisely for this trip. A month ago, he emailed West Marine a list of items we needed to buy, from a 10-foot hard bottomed inflatable, to a new sailing hat for EW. Estella greeted us with, “Good morning. The last four items arrived today!” Everything was sorted and in a cart, except of course for the dinghy which was in an enormous box.

EW asked whether Estella knew of anyone who could deliver the dinghy for us. She did, and placed a call while we shopped a bit, then suggested that we go have lunch while we wait for the truck. We opted for a quick lunch, planning on dining at the café/bar at Isleta Marina that evening. When we returned to West Marine, a large white pick up, and Lorenz awaited us. EW checked the items off of his list, paid, and helped Lorenz load the dinghy and stuff into the truck. We were joined by a young man from West Marine who came along to help. Lorenz spoke no English and the young man spoke only a bit. First, they took us to the wrong marina, but we figured it out, and Lornez told us, “Don’t worry, be happy!” (That and one other phrase were the only English words we heard him utter.) We relaxed and they found the ferry terminal.

Estella had agreed that the cardboard box for the dinghy could be returned to the store, so our two helpers cut the box apart and we slid the dinghy onto the boat ramp. They took over pumping the dinghy, showing us how to use the foot pump. Since I wasn’t needed, I hopped on the ferry to pick up the old grey mare, the rapidly disintegrating dinghy. When I returned, EW was standing next to a new dinghy, which was loaded with West Marine bags. We launched her, trying desperately not to scratch her pristine bottom, and I towed all back to La Luna, where we opened all our new gear, and got the new Lunah Landah up and running.

We hadn’t rushed that morning, arriving at the ferry around 10 AM. We walked to West Marine, had a quick lunch, purchased thousands of dollars worth of stuff, and were back on board with a fully operational dinghy by 2:30. I call that a good day. We stowed stuff, moved the motor from the old grey mare to the new Lunah Landah, and went to Isleta Marina to celebrate, and to buy Polito a beer. Two beers all around, we met Israel the owner, and Will – who had gone to high school in Maine! So much fun was had that Israel offered us free shots of a traditional holiday rum drink. It includes cream and cinnamon and goes down very smoothly. Since tomorrow was another day of the buying expedition, we wisely stopped at two shots, paid the bill, and took the new Lunah Landah back to the boat, where we raised her with her new lifting harness. (More about that later.)

West Marine has no idea that I write this blog (though perhaps they should) and I’ve not received any special pricing or compensation for this post. This was an excellent experience. The customer service crew in the states, and Estella and her team were all helpful, responded to all emails, and made sure we had everything on our list. It was a great experience. I have praised EW repeatedly for doing the work to make that happen. He gets a huge Attaboy for this one.

Day One was complete with all items checked off the list. Including, you will see above left, a toilet seat. Two days left to go.

Here’s EW in his new hat.

Yes! We Have No Short Pants in St. Thomas

We are located at 18.20.198 North, 64.55.654 West. Still in Long Bay, Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas. We moved a bit to check out Wi-Fi.

View from the deck:

From the website of Villa Papillion in St. Thomas:

Weather and Average Temperatures in the Virgin Islands

The Virgin Islands is just about perfect year round making it an ideal vacation location. Temperatures from December through February are in the high 70 degree Fahrenheit, while the summer months (June, July, August) reach temperatures in the mid-80s.

Water Temperatures in the Virgin Islands

Water temperatures are a pleasant temperature year round for swimming and water sports, with a range from 83 degrees in the summer to 79 degrees in the winter months.

I used to love autumn. I loved wearing layers, and getting out the fall clothing. Now I am in the land of summer and hot summer. Hot summer is in Grenada where my chin sweated—daily, when I was sitting in the shade. Summer is a Virgin Islands winter, where it is still shorts weather (according to sailors) but not oppressive.

This is important, because our “summer” clothing has taken a beating, and compared to me, EW is a fashion plate. We both have ruined and stained clothing in the past six months. After all, we (well one of us) came down with a much reduced wardrobe and we’re wearing that wardrobe 365 days a year. EW ruined a couple of pairs of shorts and along the way (remember that rusty dinghy chain?) but he also had found some excellent shorts on sale in Freeport and had left Maine with three pairs of swim trunks and six pairs of shorts. Plus, he has found replacement shorts in the islands. I left Maine with only one pair of shorts, two skorts, and four pairs of capris. Skorts work great on the boat and in the towns – but you can’t buy them here; the capris I brought with me are too heavy for this climate. I need replacement shorts and I need them now.

So can anyone tell me why there isn’t a store in the Caribbean that sells normal shorts for women? By the way, the locals here in St. Thomas call them “short pants”, not shorts, but it doesn’t matter what they call them, they don’t have them to sell. EW and I made a trip to the two malls where we both found reasonably priced, light weight t-shirts, and where he could have purchased a number of styles of short pants and swim trunks. We also shopped (or window shopped) in most of the stores visited by folks from cruise ships. Again, there are great styles for men available but evidently women from cruise ships purchase cheap cover-ups and sun dresses, or expensive resort wear. Now that it’s officially “winter” in St. Thomas, the local ladies are wearing slacks and jeans, and the only short pants available in stores are for the (much) younger set. We called them “hot pants” when I was in the (much) younger set. I no longer wear hot pants.

If you are planning to sail south – purchase your shorts and skorts in the states before you leave, I haven’t found any reasonably priced women’s short pants in all of the Caribbean. However, I could have purchased this lovely item in K-Mart. Really. We still aren’t using a top sheet and keep a small fan going all night. What kind of person would wear this in the Caribbean? This is just wrong.

I do have a new pair of shorts though. I purchased them in “Bernie’s Treasures” a cute little store near Yacht Haven Grand. Bernie has been in business for years. She doesn’t sell short pants for women, but she has a men’s style that she recommends. They fit fine, and aren’t frayed or stained. We plan to do more clothing shopping (especially for me) in Puerto Rico, but I’m afraid I’ll still be in the wrong season. At least we’re in the US – can you say on-line shopping? What this island needs is a store for real people.  I’m a real people and I know.  We have cruising friends who have found work here for the season, both in the marine industry and both are supposed to wear sturdy shorts in khaki or navy. One of them told her boss that she can’t find any shorts on the island. “I know,” said the boss. “That’s why I purchase all of my on-line.”

Addendum: The high-end stores here are hurting this season, and are blaming the economy, but I think they have the wrong merchandise for the market. Most cruise ships lines are selling volume, fun, and parties, not high-end glamor. The folks we’ve seen off the ships are certainly not going to spend $20,000 for gold jewelry, and if they purchase an up-scale sequined dress, they’ll probably wear it where it doesn’t belong. (After all, these are people who shop in Charlotte Amalie wearing white capris and bikini tops.)  My snark is showing. While there are a number of (unfortunately) American cruise ship tourists who appear in public dressed incredibly inappropriately, most of them look like this (though many are younger.)

 

Now, there are folks down here who can--and probably do—purchase $20,000 gold jewelry.

They have second or third homes here, or visit the island in one of these … and they dress like this.

Check out his shiny, expensive business loafers with his nifty shorts. This man is not a cruising sailor. At least he’s not wearing socks.

In Which We Remember How To Sail

On my second night watch after leaving Grenada, I checked the sky noting the stars and occasional puffy clouds. The night before I’d finally had the opportunity to track squalls on the radar, watching the green blobs pass ahead or behind us, knowing that we would not experience the wind or the rain this time . When EW had helped friends sail from the Canaries to the Azores a number of years ago, he had described watching squalls, knowing when to reduce sail, or steering around them, all based on images on the radar screen.

We did that on the trip from Grenada to St. Thomas and it’s fun. Chris Parker, weather guru,  had predicted squalls, saying that some would be simple rain storms, and others would have winds to 30 or 35 knots. We prefer to be prepared for strong wind and so were watching for squalls, as well as ships, when we checked radar on the quarter hour. On the first night, EW saw a squall coming during our change of watch, so he showed me how to track it.

During my midnight to three watch on the second night I looked forward and saw towering clouds marching from mostly west to mostly east a mile or so ahead of La Luna. Nothing showed up on the radar, and the clouds were high above the ocean, with clear skies beyond;. As we drew closer, I was reminded of the bridges in Nassau. These clouds were light and puffy white, towering into the sky, similar to lacy bridgework. The dense, darker bottom appeared to be the solid underpinning of the road way. Would we hit? If so, instead of damaging the boat, would our mast open a joint and cause it to rain?

We had a brilliant half moon for the three nights, and I could clearly see the ocean chop under the cloud and beyond it. There was no storm here. La Luna drew closer to the towering cloud as I continued to scan the horizon, then focus on the view above: mast, dark moist cloud base, towering white mountains, topped by clear starry sky. This is why we travel on a sailboat.

Before leaving Grenada we had joked about whether we would remember how to sail. Perhaps those folks who were sailing a day-hop to Carriacou had the right idea, taking a day to get back in the saddle, so to speak. We opted to get ‘er done, and (finally) raised anchor on Thursday at 7:00 AM. We negotiated our way out the channel, unfurled most of the main and all of the jib, and turned west to sail along Grenada’s southern shore. This allowed us to pass by all of the bays we’ve visited, Mt. Hartman, Clarks Court, Port Louis. We waved to our friends, though they couldn’t see us and softly said, “Good-by Grenada. We’ll be back.”

We sailed. We kept watch. I made bread. We read. We sailed. I learned a few new things and discovered that I’d retained all I’d learned on the way down. We hadn’t made an overnight passage since the one from Guadeloupe to St. Lucia,  We hadn’t spent three or more days at sea since sailing from the Dominican Republic to Puerto Rico. The weather predictions were tenuous due to a low merging with a high and a possible tropical storm forming north east of the Caribbean islands. Those folks coming down from the states to the USVI were experiencing heavy weather. We gleaned that we could sail into that, or have light and variable conditions, or strong northerly winds and swells making it hard to reach our destination. If a real storm had turned in our direction, I had plotted the forty, fifty, or sixty mile jaunts to the east to safe harbors in St. Lucia, and Guadeloupe. None of that happened. The winds were largely steady.  Though we were teased each day with one hour of little or no wind, it would return 10-15 or 15-20 from the northeast. We were on a fairly comfortable beat or a close reach all the way to St. Thomas.

We sailed.

It was the perfect journey after a nearly perfect hurricane season in Grenada, concluding with the perfect anchoring job. Evidently we are where we should be, when we should be, and I’m thankful.

 

A few photos from Grenada:

 

  La Luna is the third boat from the bottom in the row of four boats on the left. This is Prickly Bay, where we were anchored for most of our stay in Grenada.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A castle on Grenada.  I loved it. Dora thought it reminded her of Legos. She has a point.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here (finally) is the Officiant Bag in Grenada, sitting on the bar at Nimrod’s. Nimrod’s is an interesting local bar, owned by the same family for three generations. One of our friends says it reminds him of the bar from Star Wars. In a good way.

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s EW with his walking stick, at the parking lot of the Seven Sisters Falls. Sharon L., a dear friend we made in Grenada, sent this photo to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another trip around the sun, and the anniversary of the start of our sailing adventure. We celebrated with bubbly, cake, and stir fry (not necessarily in that order) with dear friends John and Dora, and Jeff and Sandy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We will carry a piece of Grenada in our hearts forever.

Orange You Glad I Didn’t Say Banana Again?

It’s not my fault, but I saw it coming.

In the Spice Islands we have found excellent locally grown fruits and vegetables. Many, like callaloo are new to us. They have fertile soil here, a favorable climate, and green thumbs. Of course many locals have mango, lime, orange, lemon, banana, and coconut trees in their yards. The mango trees bear fruit twice a year, and others like bananas and coconuts seem to bear year round.

We’ve stayed in Grenada into citrus season, and I’m delighted. While we’ve been able to purchase limes all year, we hadn’t seen a lemon in months. Now they are available everywhere, as are different varieties of limes and oranges, and the sweetest white grapefruit we’ve ever tasted. These are fruits unaltered by genetic engineering, so they have seeds--and  a lot of them, and they don’t look like the fruit back home. One morning, EW ate breakfast while I was at yoga, but left his grapefruit plate on the counter displaying all of the seeds he’d removed. There were at least thirty.

There are varieties of bananas, including the small, sweet fig bananas and some green ones used just for cooking. There are plantains and something that is neither a plantain nor a banana. There are a number of fruits called apple or with apple in the name, but they are nothing like any apple we’ve ever had. There are melons, papayas, star (or five-fingered) fruit, and sour cherries with three pits.  Juice is a specialty here, and we’ve enjoyed the juices the locals make from any of the local fruits. The grocery stores don’t have excellent produce departments, so it’s best to purchase from a  vendor, and you can find them selling in the market, in private stalls along the road, or from trucks and vans. They all take pride in their wares and will gladly tell you how to prepare and eat anything they sell.

One day, I returned from visiting the Veggie Van, which Cecil and Rosie drive to the different harbors two days a week.When I got back on board,  I interrupted EW’s reading and pointed out the citrus fruits. “This large one, of course, is a grapefruit.”

“Well I know that,” he said, clearly not sure why I was wasting his time.

I held up a small bright green fruit. “This is a mandarin orange,” I said.

“Really? It looks like a lime.”

“I know. This yellow one is a lime.”

“Oh,” said EW. “I’d have thought that was a lemon.”

“I know. That’s why we’re doing this. This large lumpy one is a lemon.”

“Really?”

Yes, really. “You got this, or do you want me to go over it again?”

He was slightly insulted or distracted or uninterested, but I’d done my duty as chief provisioner and stowed the citrus in the net over the fridge.

A few days later, I returned from yoga to find  three quarters of a cut citrus fruit in a bowl on the counter and an EW who wanted another lesson. “Can you go over those with me again?”

I smiled. “What happened?”

“Well, this was yellowish and large and it looked like an orange. I cut it in half and it looked orange, so I cut it into quarters and put it on my plate with my peanut butter toast. “

I saw the train wreck coming down the track. EW relishes a juicy orange. Once cut into quarters, he uses both thumbs to peel back the pointy ends of the quarter, clamps his teeth around the flesh, and takes it all in, savoring the sweet juice. But this time his orange was a lemon, and there was no sweet juice. He scrunched up his face as he told the tale. “Blech! That was a rude awakening. Took me a while to get over it.”

It took me a while to stop laughing.

 

 

The first photo is an orange. It’s a larger one than the ones I had purchased the first time. The second photo is of a lemon. In the group photo, the grapefruit is a twelve and going clockwise we have a sweet orange, a mandarin orange, a lime, and a lemon.

Among the cruisers there is an “urban legend” often repeated that claims the color of fruit in the states is due to chemicals applied by the growers. According to Wikipedia, citrus fruits turn colors only in areas where there are cooler winters.

The colour (sic) of citrus fruits only develops in climates with a (diurnal) cool winter. In tropical regions with no winter at all, citrus fruits remain green until maturity, hence the tropical "green oranges". The Persian Lime in particular is extremely sensitive to cool conditions, thus it is not usually exposed to cool enough conditions to develop a mature colour. (sic) If they are left in a cool place over winter, the fruits will change colour (sic) to yellow.

On the Concord Trail … Again?

On Wednesday, I played dominoes, and was joined by Sandy from S/V Magic Inspiration and Dora from S/V Windrifter, who both came over on the bus from Port Louis. Ten women at two tables, played dominoes, drank wine, and mostly ignored the fact that we all had husbands. Until Sandy mentioned, “Hey, we’re going to do the Grand Etang to Concord hike again tomorrow.”

“You are not serious,” I said. She laughed and assured me that she and Jeff were once again taking that long hike over the mountains—the hike that had taken us 6 hours a few weeks ago. “Well,” I said, “If EW hears this, he’ll want to go.”

Ever since that infamous hike across the country, EW has said that he’d love to do it again. The short hike we took to the same falls didn’t appease his sense of adventure. After dominoes, we invited the men to join us for dinner at de Big Fish and as soon as EW heard about the trip, he signed up for another adventure. I declined. I’d like to make that hike again, but not this year, and it was supposed to rain the next day, and I needed to get some things done, and … I did not want to go.

It was fine with me if EW went, but there was a problem. We were seriously low on groceries and I had nothing for sandwiches or snacks--and no bread. Dora, dear friend that she is, offered to make EW’s lunch and it was settled. I’d have the dinghy and boat to myself on Thursday while EW sought adventure on the Concord Trail.

Jeff and Sandy, our intrepid leaders from the first hike, weren’t leading this one. There were 11 hikers and one dog who met up at the Grand Etang park to start the hike. Two couples and one dog arrived via truck and planned to hike to the top of the mountain and return to Etang, not opting for the trip through to Concord Falls. The other 7 had traveled by bus and were going to hike the same trail we’d taken earlier in the season, across the mountains to the falls and then out to the road on the other side. What EW, Sandy, and Jeff didn’t realize is that the four who were hiking through “with” them, were the kind of folks who take the runners’ trail on the Hashes and who evidently turn every hike into a runners’ hash. The entire group met up at the turn, four went to the top of the mountain and seven headed down toward the falls, and that was the last EW and Sandy saw of the four hikers in their group.

At one point, during a downpour, Jeff, Sandy and EW were taking shelter under a tree, waiting out the worst of the weather, when they heard someone whistling and calling to them. Jeff volunteered to move down the trail to meet the other hiker who had come back to find them. His position was that if they were going to be “his responsibility” they were going to have to “keep up”. Let’s just say that didn’t go over well with Jeff, or with Sandy and EW when they heard about the conversation. Both Jeff and Sandy are very fit and both of them take the runners’ trail on a hash, but they hadn’t intended to hash along the trail to Concord. It was decided that the other four bore no responsibility for the three slower hikers and the group split.

Jeff, Sandy and EW continued their pleasant, but wet and challenging hike and made it to the falls in four hours. They never saw the other folks who evidently made it to the falls, jumped in, and took off back to town. That’s cool. This is a lifestyle populated with strong individuals. Perhaps those planning the hike should have described their style and pace prior to inviting others along. EW and I enjoyed the first hike because we all stopped frequently, watched out for each other, and hiked with different people at different times. We became friends with sailors who had been acquaintances. For us, getting to know different people is the most important part of cruising activities. We are people people. He was sorry the others didn’t feel the same way, but enjoyed hiking with Jeff and Sandy and had no trouble keeping up with them.

Frankly, EW easily kept up with them because he didn’t have to spend time helping slower hikers, like me, for instance. The steepest part of the trail is just before the falls, a rock wall with high natural “steps”, about 6 inches wide. That area had experienced a landslide, making the descent to the falls much more treacherous than it had been a few weeks ago. Thankfully, both EW and Jeff and taken rope along and all three were able to use it to safely reach the falls. Somewhere along the way, Sandy dislocated her baby finger, but EW and I know what to do about that (after the experience at Cape Fear) and Sandy trusted him to yank it back in place. We hear that finger is fine now with a slight yellow bruise, and no swelling or crooked bits.

They hiked, they swam in the pool, and they walked back down the hill to the bus. It was a good day. I got groceries and was able to feed EW a manly meal upon his return, listening to his adventures and very, very thankful that I had opted out of this one.

Looks like they had a good time, though.

Living the Good Life on a Crewed Yacht Charter aboard Magic Inspiration

Provisioning is not my best thing. The thought of trying to plan meals and purchase food for three and six months out makes me sweat. I don’t even plan all that well for a week of meals for two, which is why we have popcorn for supper at least once a month. EW is a saint.

As for clean. My boat is generally clean. No one has been grossed out or gotten sick on my boat, but few have stepped aboard and been impressed by its pristine condition. I don’t do pristine.

This is why I have such respect for the cruisers we’ve met who offer their boats for charter. Their white cockpits are spotless, and when they are under charter, the designated chef plans, provisions, and provides three full meals a day, with drinks, appetizers, and desserts at every evening meal. They even garnish. I don’t do garnish.

EW would be a great captain on a charter yacht, but I told him he married the wrong woman for that lifestyle. We have a number of friends who make it look easy. (I’m not fooled, but I am impressed.)

Here’s an email we received from Jeff, Captain of S/V Magic Inspiration AKA “Bwana” the leader of our fateful six hour hiking trip.

I wanted to follow-up on the Seven Sisters hike for this Wed.Since this is only expected to be about 2 hours round trip, plus a stop at the falls, we probably don't have to start too early.  We are thinking of meeting at the downtown bus terminal at 10:30, that will put us at Grand Etang around 11, and then the hour hike to the falls would put us up there for lunch/swim around noon, then returning down when ready.  
 

Then, if you're up for it, would love to have you over for early dinner and dominoes or cards......there are a few recipes we need to try out, and need some victims :)   So you could shower here, etc...  Thought it would be better to do this in one trip for you, but we could always get together a different day if you prefer.  Dora and John will hopefully join us for the day and evening as well.

Any allergies or issues with these?
  
Stuffed Bacon Jalapeno Poppers
Chilled Avocado Soup
Crab Quesadillas
Banana Corn Fritters
Warm Coconut Custard Pie

Yes! It didn’t take us long to respond. EW and I have no food allergies and few things we won’t eat. This sounded like a nearly perfect day. And yes, we still trusted Jeff to lead us on another hike – and even believed him about the two-hour thing.

One of the interesting and challenging things about living in Grenada for the summer is that there are many beautiful anchorages and good marinas along the southern coastline so boats are spread among the different harbors. Magic Inspiration and Windrifter have opted to stay on the dock in Port Louis Marina, a 20 minute bus ride from our anchorage in Prickly Bay. It’s easy and cheap to go back and forth by bus, as long as we remember to leave for home before 10:00 PM, when bus service stops.

Vicky and Bob from Fox Sea joined us for the hike and the four of us met up with Dora, Jeff and Sandy at the main bus terminal in St. George’s, where we were hustled aboard a number 6 bus. Hustled was the word as the buses are private vehicles and the driver wanted our seven fares. At least one person was bumped from our bus and we were squeezed in with 16 other people. Two sat in front with the driver, four adults in each of the four rows, with two children on their mother’s lap, and two babies in their mothers’ arms. Everyone took this with good grace – except for the young woman who was bumped from the bus in order to allow all of us to go. The driver clearly felt that losing one fare was better than losing 7 fares. We all felt sorry for the young woman and would have gladly waited for the next bus.

We paid at the entrance to the Seven Sisters Trail, borrowed walking sticks from the pile by the door and set off. The first quarter mile or so was along a farm road as the entrance to the falls is on private property. A petite farmer with huge waders and a machete welcomed us and repeatedly told us to stop back and get our shoes washed on the way out. “Lot of mud. Lot of mud,” he said. He was right. There had been downpours during the previous two nights, and much of the trail was muddy. Unfortunately, so were the falls and, while we enjoyed the cool mountain air, the hike, and the camaraderie, we did not swim in the brown water. We hiked, explored, took photos, ate, told stories and laughed – an excellent day.

 

On the way out, Kenny appeared with machete in hand as soon as we reached the small bar (closed) at the edge of the farm. “Come. Come. I wash shoes.”  Sure enough, Kenny had clean water in a five gallon bucket with a big sponge. One by one we put each foot up on a rock and Kenny cleaned the mud off. He was handsomely tipped. EW and I talked with Kenny, who shared some of his spices and tea leaves with us, and gave me a handful of nutmeg. “Folks don’t ask about my farm,” he said. “I am blessed. I give you dis.” He also suggested we take a photo with him. I wasn’t kidding when I called him petite. The hug surprised me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back at Port Louis, I thoroughly enjoyed the shower and even used the hair dryer provided by the marina. It’s been a long time since I'd styled my hair. Jeff had showered quickly and was completing his white wine sangria – a trial recipe not mentioned in the invitation. Oh my goodness. I told them that this would be the perfect welcoming drink for their guests’ first night aboard. Nothing can go wrong after you have one (or two) tumblers of this sangria.

Jeff and Sandy are new to chartering, and clearly this life agrees with them. The are an excellent team, and take their guests’ happiness seriously – even with the guests are cruisers/guinea pig/freeloaders. Sandy had prepared the dinner the night before so she could enjoy the hike and each course was beautifully presented with no apparent effort.  That’s another thing I don’t do – presentation. I plate, I don’t present.

 

Each dish was offered in turn and the six of us would savor, chat, praise the cook and make suggestions. We greatly enjoyed the jalapeno poppers. Anything that combines spicy with bacon is A-OK with EW.

Sandy served the chilled avocado soup with the corn fritters and we all agreed they wouldn’t be served together on a charter. I definitely liked Sandy’s plan to use the fritters as a starch on pork loin night. Jeff then slipped an extra course in between the soup and the quesadillas because he wanted to try making a smoothie/sorbet. “You know how restaurants offer sorbet between courses,” he said. “Well we can’t keep sorbet in the freezer but I think a small serving of a tart strawberry/mango smoothie would work.”

We can attest that it works very well, indeed. If I were the kind of person who offered sorbet to my boat guests, I’d make them a tiny smoothie. Of course you have to have tiny dishes for the smoothie – and cute little spoons – forget it.

Sandy and Jeff have a catamaran and take up to six folks on a charter. They have way more serving pieces/drink glasses than I do. In our home, I had a renovated kitchen and serving sets that included Depression Glass. Here I have five multi-colored baskets and one pewter tray. The wine glasses double as juice glasses or vice/versa. I am so not a charter chef.

The quesadillas were perfect, followed by domino lessons for Sandy and Jeff. They’ve been playing cribbage with guests, but that isn’t a game for a crowd and Trini Mexican Train Dominoes will give their guests a real cruising experience. We paused at the half-way point for warm coconut custard pie – to die for. In between courses, Jeff would clean up from the previous course, so the galley looked nice at the end of the meal, something else that doesn’t happen on my boat. I am so not cut out to run a charter.

We had such a good time, savoring every bite and playing dominoes that it was 10:40 before we knew it. The bus system officially stops at 10 and we still had two rounds of the game to go. Sandy insisted we stay over. They turned the air conditioning on in “our” cabin. It was heaven.

Sandy, Jeff, and Mango offer a crewed charter aboard S/V Magic Inspiration, based out of the British Virgin Islands. We can highly recommend them – and suggest you make sure they offer the sangria, the chilled avocado soup, and the coconut pie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sandy graciously emailed me the recipe for the soup and told me I could share it, so I am. Here you go:

Note that she includes the garnish. She’s like that.

Sandy’s Seven Sisters Chilled Avocado Soup (I named the soup. I’m good at that.)
(This recipe makes 4 first course servings)
Ingredients:
1/2 seedless chopped cucumber
1 peeled and pitted avocado
1 chopped shallot (or about 2 tbsp. chopped red onion)
2 tbsp. plain yogurt
4 tsp. lime juice
1.5 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1/4 tsp. cumin
1 cup cold water
Combine all ingredients in blender and process until smooth.  Chill for at least one hour.
Garnish with dollop of sour cream and lime zest.....yum!

 

And now for the FCC disclaimer: Jeff and Sandy were surprised I wanted to write a post about our day with them. Other than the wonderful meal, I was not compensated for this post in any way. We are friends.

Dancing in De Mas

I must be getting older because I don’t bounce back from a night of dancing in the Monday Mas like I used to.

Wait.

I’ve never before danced in the Monday Mas so age has nothing to do with it – though this is clearly an event for the young adults and such tourists and cruisers who are foolish adventurous enough to participate.

We arrived in Grenada in time for Carnival, and had to decide which events we wanted to see. 

Here’s what Wikipedia says about Caribbean Carnivals in general:

Caribbean Carnival is the term used for a number of events that take place in many of the Caribbean islands annually.

The Caribbean's Carnivals all have several common themes all originating from Trinidad and Tobago Carnival, based on folklore, culture, religion,and tradition, not on amusement rides. Carnival tradition is based on a number of disciplines including: "Playing Mas"/Masquerade; Calypso Music and crowning a Calypso King or Monarch; Panorama (Steel Band Competition);Jouvert morning; and a number of other traditions.

Since we have no windlass, right now, we aren’t raising the anchor for anything less than a hurricane – so our participation had to be weighed against the bus ride to St. George and the times of the events. I had hoped to see/hear live music, but we missed out on that and will have to seek a steel band performance somewhere on the island.

Many of our cruising friends had decided to participate in the Monday Night Mas and we opted to join them. This is not a parade – though locals and tourist line the road to watch the groups dance by. The Mas is made up of a number of large trucks sponsored by various local companies – most of which make and/or distribute booze. One purchases a Mas Package from their chosen poison, dons the gear and shows up at the appointed hour.

And waits. Because the appointed hour in the Caribbean is never the hour stated in all of the material. Once things get rolling we follow the truck, fill our mugs/glasses with their beverage, and dance.

For hours.

The Monday Night Mas which “began” at 7:30 PM and continues through the wee hours of Tuesday morning.

About 50 cruisers elected to join the Carib Beer truck for the Mas and we all paid our $70.00 EW EC per person ($26.21 US). Late last week I walked to the Carib Brewery where they had a room with four clerks selling Mas packages. We each got a hat, beer mug, and wand – all with little battery packs to power the lights – and a t-shirt (or lady’s tank top) and beads that had to be placed in the sun so they’d glow in the dark that night.

Many cruisers had opted for the “Carnival” deal at the marina in St. George, and we took a bus over to meet with the crews of Windrifter, Sanctuary, Magic Inspiration, Iolea, Celebration, FoxSea and the others. One savvy cruiser had negotiated with a local taxi driver to provide vans to take all of us to the gathering point. Most of us had never participated in the Monday Night Mas – an event we suggest every cruiser try once. I think most do it once and move on to other things in subsequent years. Monday Night Mas is a lot of work and a lot of fun.

First we hung around as 300-500 people gathered -- all wearing the required hats and t-shirts. Some of the local women had modified their shirts so they looked stunning and sexy in a t-shirt while we cruisers looked like (mostly) middle-aged cruisers in bad hats.

Carnival is not an artificial event designed to get tourists to come to the island. It is a local celebration/holiday and tourists are encouraged to watch and to participate. Throughout the week locals on the street have welcomed us to Grenada and invited us to enjoy Carnival with them. Men unloading hops at the brewery stopped to greet me and express their pleasure that we would be joining them at the Monday Night Mas. Some cruisers had wondered whether we had been encouraged to join a truck that was “reserved” for visitors, but that wasn’t the case at all. We were definitely in the minority and we were most definitely welcomed. It was great fun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In addition to the large tractor trailer with the DJ on board, Carib had a smaller truck that served the beer. We dancers would break ranks, make our way back through the crowd and hold up our mugs to men with kegs on top of a truck. We are amazed that no one got trampled and no feet were run over by the wheel. Getting a beer was an experience not to be missed.  I know, I successfully obtain beer three times. There was spillage, but no carnage.

Ahead of the Carib Crowd, the DJ on the music truck would exhort us to wave our wands “To de left! To de right! Left! Right!” with a particular song. They played only a few songs, repeating them through the night, and the locals knew the words and sang along. And danced. And my how they danced. Frankly “Shake your booty” has a whole knew meaning for me.  Let’s just say that the man stands (closely) behind the woman who bends slightly and shakes. They both shake, as they continue to move forward, rhythmically, in tandem. I assume you get the picture. Others danced alone, but when the music was playing everyone danced.

Walking takes a certain set of muscles. Dancing as you move down the street uses a whole different set – even if you aren’t shaking your booty. (Or aren’t shaking it as rigorously as others were.) At one point around 10:00 PM, as Carrie and I were walking along (in step to the music, but definitely not dancing) a handsome young man came by, smiled and said,

“There is no walking in de Mas. There is only dancing in the Mas,” and he exhorted EW to make sure we continued to dance. Evidently he had caught us when EW had been dancing, as I think he danced a bit less than I did. From that point on, I danced. We all danced. We talked with the locals – many of whom congratulated us on joining them, welcomed us to Grenada, and included us in their celebration. One of the more distinguished looking cruisers was especially welcomed. At one point a young man offered him a joint. Later as our friend watched a couple dance as described above, the young man turned and said, “You like to try?” and offered the young lady for a dance. 

Did our friend partake of either of these offered gifts? That’s for him to say. What would you have done?

The route probably only covers 3 – 5 miles, but the Mas moves very slowly. After midnight we had traveled only halfway and were back to the marina. It was amusing to see 30 white cruisers turn from De Mas en mass and head for the toilets. We hear that some hardy folk rejoined the party. EW opted to crash on Windrifter and Dora and I joined a few others in the marina pool before taking showers. When we arrived back at the boat, the boom boom boom of all the different trucks could be heard as the Mas danced around the bay toward the stadium. In spite of the noise, EW slumbered in the cockpit, dead to the world. I must say that when I joined him, I too, slept soundly until 4 or so when I was awakened for a moment by the silence. The Mas was over. Roosters were crowing. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Sail to Grenada                        Check

Participated in a Mas               Check.

Replace the windlass              In Progress

 

NOTE: The photo at the top and these two here were taken at a more family focused parade of tribes held Monday afternoon. As you can see, whole families participate. The children danced and danced well.

Au Revoir Isles Des Saintes

On Saturday morning, June 11th, We have left Guadeloupe for St. Lucia, a trip that will take 24 – 36 hours depending on the wind. It was difficult for us to leave Guadeloupe and this island. They have a remarkably easy check –in and check-out process, but the beauty of the islands and the nature of the people make it hard to leave. Here are photos from Terre-De-Haut, the largest of the lady saints:

 

 

 

I love the blend of old and new here. This country – and this island in particular – are conscious of our environment. They have few cars here, most walk or use scooters or bikes. They recycle. They use solar power to heat their water.

 

 

 

 

The fishermen use newer styled boats but paint them in bright colors. They wear swimsuits to work.  Well, some of them do, sometimes. These gentlemen had just delivered a catch to the local fish market. I purchased outstanding fresh tuna and enjoyed the view. Note, they had to leap over the side and carry the tubs of fish up to shore, that’s why they wore the suits. Most fishermen looked like the gentleman below.

He was getting his hooks ready for the next day.

 

 

 

 

Traditionally, they sailed and fished in boats similar to this one. Now these are built for racing. This one is in Alain Foy’s shop. The man is an artist.

 

 

 

 

This boat is a blend of old and new. Note the hiking straps. This is a serious racing boat.

 

 

 

 

 

EW and I went to breakfast one morning. We should have gotten one sandwich and split it. They were delicious.

While we ate I “talked” with an older woman at another table. Neither of us spoke the other’s language but we did communicate. She pointed out that this pretty cat had eyes of a different color.

 

 

 

 

After breakfast, we walked it off and enjoyed the sights northwest of town.

 

 

 

 

Chickens, and goats and cattle – all in the same field. We heard that someone from a local bakery stops by this field on their way home with stale bread.

We missed the hand-off but I did see the goats and chickens munching on a few half loaves when I went past one afternoon.

 

 

 

 

I loved the view from the hills as we were leaving the town.

 

 

 

 

And I love their colorful homes.

On the right we have a blue home with violet shutters next to a lime green home with a red roof. Both beautiful.

 

 

 

EW and I – particularly EW – love to watch the pelicans. I was able to get up close and personal with these two. The beauty of their feathers surprised me. The back of their necks is a deep chocolate brown

 

. This is a boatyard goat. There was a group of them at the yard that sells the gas. This little guy is nosing around the railway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is a boatyard chicken located in Alain Foy’s wood shop.

 

We didn’t see any boatyard dogs, but saw a lot of much loved town dogs. This one belongs to an artist. We rubbed his belly – the dog’s not the artist’s.

 

 

 

 

 

Guadeloupe and Isles des Saintes. Je l’aime ici.