The last of the Windwards

Two looming pinnacles jutting from the sea just off our port bow signalled our arrival into St Lucia. As we had to clear in, we decided not to stay within the twin towers of the Pitons and instead chose a mooring ball just off the lovely little bay of Soufriere in the shadow of Petit Piton (although really not that petit!).

Captain Bob was the first boat boy to accost us and so we requisitioned his services to hand us the mooring buoy and advise on which buoys were more secure. Might I add, we had to pay the park for the ball as well as donate EC$20 to Bob's cause for the sole benefit of him handing us a mooring line. This could have also been due to the fact that we had no change and slight relief that Captain Bob was nothing like the guys offering a similar service in St Vincent where we had just come from!

The name Soufriere meaning sulphurer stems from the volcanic activity in the region, some of which is still apparent today. Captain Bob offered us a tour of the island and keen to check out the geology and volcano in action we accepted – this being our first island tour we have been on whilst in the Caribbean.

9am the next morning Captain Bob picked us up from Orion and dinghied ashore handing us over to our driver for the day, Martin. Sulphur Springs was first on the itinerary, touted as being the world's only drive in volcano. We opted for the volcanic mud bath rather than stare at some steam coming out of the ground. Donning our speedos we leapt into the 38 degree pool of black, rotten egg smelling volcanic waters. We joined the only other person there, an enigmatic German who proclaimed he couldn't speak English yet was pretty good at explaining all the different facets of how to have a volcanic mud bath. Smearing white grit over my face, Edward assured me this was good for lady's skin. Dylan got stuck in with the bucket of thick mud, smearing the liquid all over himself until he resembled one of the locals then doing the same for me. With the water temperature being close on 40 degrees and the air temperature being fairly close, it wasn't a place to linger for long so after a few minutes the mud had dried, we posed for some photos like a pair of minstrels then washed off in a lovely FRESH water shower. The mud had become engrained deep in our pores so no amount of scrubbing got it off, we walked away from the springs a blue /grey colour.

Next destination was the Botanical Gardens with the Diamond Falls via a view point where we could look down on Orion on her mooring. The gardens were beautiful but we couldn't really appreciate the fauna having no idea what any of the plants were. Made a great photo opportunity nonetheless. Right by Diamond Falls there were more hot water baths although we were pleased to discover that these were fresh, clean water. Accepting any opportunity to submerge ourselves in fresh water, we donned our now soggy mud encrusted speedos and lolled around like hippos.

We met some interesting people along the way. Our best was Pascal the calabash carving Rastafarian paddle skier. We just had to buy one as he was such a great character! He came paddling over calling out to us. It was late in the afternoon and he had done an entire trip around Soufriere and probably the Pitons too on his wanked out kayak that looked about the same age as him. He was was fit as a fiddle. We got chatting to him as he showed us a calabash in its pre carved form along with all his wares. We asked him about Rastafarian ways keen to understand what it means to be a Rasta. 

Having seen the sights around Soufriere, we headed to Marigot Bay as we had heard rave reviews. Using Dylan's expression, we found it most 'underwhelming'. Sure there were some superyachts to look at but the anchoring was in a small patch on the outside of the channel, no anchoring in the bay and so boat traffic rocked us back and forth 24/7. On top of that, there was nothing to see or do ashore and the water visibility was awful with no fish in sight. A tacky village had been built to please the tourists with countless boutiques selling souvenirs and ice cream, needless to say we didn't venture into any. We found out our friends on Mimi were in Rodney Bay and also another french cat had anchored right on our bow so we figured it was time to move on up the coast after only a day!

Two hours later we were anchored in Rodney Bay. A much nicer anchorage due to the huge space meaning no yachts in close proximity and no neighbours in peeing distance from your cockpit. Having already cleared out in Marigot Bay, we only had one night left in St Lucia so quickly secured the boat and dinghied into the marina to see Mimi.

Dylan rather worse for wear the next morning due to Keith's generous rum pouring (he doesn't learn does he Marcey?!) we awoke at 6am and headed for Martinique – Dylan fed the fish a few times on that passage and learnt a valuable lesson about grogging the night before a sail. Don't do it!

We had planned to spend only a night in Martinique as a stop over so we didn't have to do a night passage. This fits in with our plan of 'fast up, slow down'. Therefore I cannot really give an opinion of this country yet having only experienced the supermarket ashore (which was expensive but they had a fantastic selection of french cheeses!) and the walk to and from customs. Although the country is french speaking and currency is euro, we were able to get by using no french although maybe this will be different when we visit the main towns in Martinique on the way back down. St Pierre where we stopped was devastated by Mount Pelee volcano erupting in 1902, a lot of the ruin is still evident today. It gave the sleepy fishing village a quaint charm taking in the derelict buildings and apparent poverty of the local people who are appear in true Caribbean style content in their situation.

Feeling like we were on a continuous see saw ride the minute we anchored, we were more than happy to move on the next morning to Dominica, the country of 365 rivers!

Do you speak whale?

Down in the galley making tuna mayo sandwiches, sweating profusely and trying to angle my dripping forehead into the fan for some relief– I hear an excited yell from Dylan who was in the cockpit. Thinking he may be showing me my 200^th flying fish which still seem to fascinate him – I begrudgingly put down the knife and headed for the companionway.

Putting my foot on the first rung of the ladder, I realise that this may be more than the humble flying fish he is looking at as when I catch his expression, he looks like he has almost peed his pants.

Following his gaze towards Martinique coastline, not more than 400 metres from our starboard quarter is a humongous whale shooting out of the sea like a missile emerging from its underground silo. The gnarled white fins clearly visible in the midday sun, the pod of humpback whales continued to give us a fantastic display of acrobatics as a further 2 more whales breached the surface, each one going higher than the previous.

Quite overwhelmed with this fairly rare natural occurrence taking place right before our eyes, we were speechless. After the fourth breach I rushed down to get the camera, eager to take a video. Unfortunately that was enough for today, the whales didn't resurface except for the occasional spouting of water we could spot in the distance.

Luckily I have a photographic memory so shall be replaying that experience over and over again in my head for years to come. Having seen killer whales in San Juan islands and now the humpback whale in the Caribbean, we are keen to see the blue whales to complete the collection!

Singing in the rain...

Just after we arrived in Marigot Bay and some French charter boat plonked itself on top of our anchor chain, did it start to rain. This is the dry season we were told, however we had a great squall.

Lovely warm tropical rain pelted the anchorage. We are not inside Marigot Bay as it is too exclusive for us. At $30 USD a night for a mooring ball, we will anchor outside and peer in like paupers at the window of an overpriced confectioner.

There are beautiful yachts inside the bay. Absolutely, pants wetting with excitement, beautiful yachts.

Back to the rain...It came in fast and heavy. We barely had time to react. Soon the anti rain cover for the V berth hatch was inverted to become a quasi rain catcher with a bucket underneath. Sally and I were in our costumes dancing around the deck. Buckets in hand, catching rain like it was some sort of liquid gold.

After giving the deck a quick scrub, we were damming tributaries and catching water in buckets. We had just switched over to the starboard tank earlier that day, so port tank was opened up and bucket after bucket was decanted.

At £1 per 4 litres (price in Union Island) it is well worth catching your own rain. Also good practise for when we go to areas where water is scarce or even more expensive!

Port tank is almost full. We are refreshed after a fresh water shower. Dinghy is full of fresh (ish) water that we will use for dish washing and body washing. We are still finding volcanic mud on our extremities...

Good times, good times!   

Why do people buy Catamarans...

Quite simple really. They are perfect charter / entertainment vessels.

I have always been a monohull kinda guy. Sneered at people who needed twice as many hulls as me. However I have changed my mind.

Now don't get me wrong. Nothing can part me from my little 30 year old Tartan as she ticks all my boxes, but what I am saying is that I can now see why people buy cats.

They are perfect for this sort of inter-island sailing in the Caribbean. We have met a number of people with cats and been on board a few and been very impressed.

They are so roomy! There is a huge cockpit, galley, saloon and deck space. These are generally the areas where your average person spends most of their waking time.

The easy access to the sea from the twin transoms with stairs to the water are very useful (especially if you are a retiree with a gamy hip etc).

One couple mentioned they like their cat as it gives them family and privacy at the same time. They bundle the family into one hull and they stay in the other and only meet in the middle when they want to see each other. 

They don’t roll as much as monohulls either and some anchorages can be kinda rolly. They are also very shallow draft (most are even shallower than our Orion's 4'3” (Centreboard up...) and can nip into the shore at close quarters.

Loads of charter vessels are cats. The whole group of pasty little geckos crowd around the cockpit of these fat party boats and have a great time.

We know that they are having a great time as while I write this post some european skipper has parked his cat on top of my anchor chain (again), sphincter tighteningly close to our pullpit and the group are have a load of laughs. We can hear ever word, but don't speak nor understand Napoleon.

So then me thinks to me self...why did I go for a Monohull. There are only 2 of us on board. If we did loads of entertaining and had visitors all the time then a cat might be a better choice, however we don't. Light displacement vessels like cats don't have the same load carrying capabilities as an equivalent monohull.

The wind has been on our nose most of our journeys and cats have been racing past us, much to my dismay. But it is easy to out point a monohull with twin screws sitting at 2200 revs and the main sheeted tight. Cheating if you ask me! (as we pound into 18knots with just a jenny out).

But cats can't point. 45 degrees apparent is about the best these beasts can do. So they don't. They either wait for a decent breeze or motor sail between islands. 

Being a bit of a purist, I prefer to sail even if it means a slightly uncomfortable beat.

But, with having twin hulls, you have twin engines. Multiple heads (some of them up to 4 heads!).

This means multiple times the amount of maintenance than our MONOhull. As ours is MONO most things!

They also cost more to haul out the water, more to store on the hard. But they have lighter / smaller rigs as they have less displacement...

Good quote from a website i found..."Choosing your monohull is like choosing your car. If you ‘re choosing a vehicle to go cross country, towing a trailer with amenities, you choose a big, rugged, 4 WD, heavy vehicle. For in town, something small and light and easy to handle. No one boat does it all, monohull or multihull. You have to decide on your priorities. Traditional good looks. Resale value. Appeals to the traditionalist, though some of the latest crop of monohulls could leave you wondering. There are more people that identify with monohulls and more of a mass market. Multihullers are making progress. This has been the fastest growing segment of the sailboat market for the last couple of years."

If I was going chartering with a group of friends or even my extended family, I would seriously consider a cat. 

For cruising and potentially crossing oceans, I will take Orion!

Caribbean bus music...

We have heard this song played repetitively in pretty much ever bus we have taken. Mostly it is played at 97 decibels. I must admit it is kinda catchy albeit I don't have a clue what most of the words are.

Tommy Lee - Some Bwoy (yes, that means Some Boy).

Try reading the comments if you want a bit of a tongue twisting puzzle in deciphering the "English" language.

Paradise

I write this as I sit in the cockpit of our lovely little Tartan 37. We have just completed our longest passage to date. A whole 42 miles. It took us 8 hours to complete but included a few hickups along the way. It is a breathless anchorage and we circle our mooring boy like 2 boxers sussing each other out.

I have a large rum and coke in my hand and the gas braai is ticking over on the transom with chicken breasts grilling away smothered in banana ketchup (a local sauce we are trying for the first time).

We are in Soufriere, in the shadow of Petite Piton. The pitons (a set of two tall volcanic peaks) guided us to St Lucia as they were the first things we saw as we crossed the expanse between St Vincent and St Lucia.

The sun has just set over the horizon and we watched it give us a final wink before slinking below the horizon ready to pounce on us in 12 hours time. See you soon, Mr Sun!

It was yet another beautiful sunset. A menagerie of colours, vivid and clear in evening sky.

Life is pretty damn good. It certainly is.

We are on a mooring buoy in Soufriere as most of this region is a national park and anchoring is not alllowed. This is probanbly just as well, as this island emerges from the depths like a Kraken in Pirates of the Caribbean. I cannot see the bottom although I can track the mooring line fairly deep. The depth sounder reads 50 feet. I am always a little nervous picking up a mooring ball. I was reviewing one in Wallilabou yesterday and found that most of the outer wires of the mooring line had worn through leaving just the core to hold the boat in place...fortunately the wind prevails from the shore and the stern line is the main line.

We are in our third country now. What a great achievement for two people who did not even own a boat, let alone did a lot of sailing together not more than 8 weeks ago...

We are off on a tour tomorrow to see the waterfall and volcanic hot springs etc. Looking forward to it.

Cheers, let the adventure continue!

Wallilabou and the Boat Boys

Approaching Wallilabou we were looking out for a radio mast on the shore, knowing that just after that was our chosen anchorage in St Vincent. About 2 miles off our destination we could start to see how green and luscious the coastline was, taking in the spectacular scenery the ambience was ruined by 2 big cigarette boats speeding towards us. Putting down my camera (in case they fancied it for themselves) we awaited their arrival. A boat on our starboard side arrived first asking us if we were going to Wallilabou bay. Having read Doyle's guide prior to leaving, we were aware these guys could be pushy to the point of aggressive and so tried to shrug them off by being vague and saying we would meet them in there if we needed assistance. That didn't seem to work and no sooner had we explained that to the first boat, the second boat came to port side trying to get our attention. We shrugged off one boat and continued on, where around half a mile out, another boat boy came rowing towards us and started getting into a rage. Now these guys apparently speak English but unfortunately we couldn't understand a word they were saying apart from the expletives littered throughout their conversation. Turns out the first boat boy had promised the second that the next yacht to approach the bay would be 'his' to assist. Not playing game the two boats started getting into a slanging match with us in the middle and the second boat boy then proceeds to jump into our dinghy (that we were towing behind) and tow his boat complete with child of around 10 years old. From observation the more affluent guys have the freshly painted boats with 15HP engines whilst the poorer guys have only oars for propulsion. I did feel for the guy who had no motor on his boat so must have rowed the entire way out but on the other hand, he was being rude, aggressive and extremely intimidating. Remember at this point in time, we hadn't given our custom to either party! We tried to ignore the commotion as best we can (when we had 2 adult males yelling at each other) and puttered into the bay eyeing up the mooring balls to find a good spot.

On sussing out the situation we realised we would need a hand with the 'parking' as we needed to attach the bow to a mooring line at the same time as manoeuvring in a tight space and securing a stern line to another mooring ball 100 feet away. Deciding to go with Winston (“no problem man”) that showed no animosity towards us, we asked him to secure our stern line ignoring the crazy guy we towed telling us how unfair life was. By this point I was most fed up with their behaviour and thought if I went below and waited it out...they may just disappear (ostrich.....sand). No such luck, no sooner had we killed the engine, 4 more boat boys arrived, sticking their heads into our cockpits and banging against our hull. Now I realise these guys need to make a living but when all they offer is a hand to tie a line you start to lose respect for them. If they had made something or were offering fresh fruit then I would happily give them money. The crazy guy was still in a rage, eyes wide with anger filling the quiet bay with his woes when he declared he was thirsty and could we possibly get him a glass of water. I was in no mood to provide him with anything and so went for the cold shoulder approach but after a further 10 mins of repeating his plea we caved in and I went down below to get 2 glasses of water, one for him and one for the young boy with him. The crazy guy downed it in one and when Dylan gave the second glass to the young kid, the kid replied 'F*CK YOU'!! I tell you, we made quite an entrance into this anchorage!!!! I just wish I had videoed it as that situation has to be seen to be believed.

Taking a philosophical stance on the experience, you can see that there is little for the locals to do to make money here with incoming yachts seen as a prime source of income. Unfortunately there are so many guys all competing for the same service and as such it has turned sour. This aggressive attitude will certainly make us think twice about returning which is such a shame as it really is a lovely place to visit. If only they could organise themselves and regulate the service similar to what Bequia have done it would encourage a larger volume of yachts to frequent the town as a port of clearance. Dylan tried to explain this to them, attempting to improve their 'service' but any suggestions were met with indifferent grunts. Aaah well, you win some you lose some.

After Dylan had stopped simmering and all boat boys had been dealt with, we dinghied ashore to clear out of customs as they only open from 5pm! Wallilabou was the set for Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest and so everywhere you go there are props, storyboards and pictures from the movie. Wary of the aggressive boat boys and after a few spates of theft recently, as soon as the sun started to set, we headed back to Orion to guard her for the evening. Thankfully this effort was in vain as we had no trouble and a peaceful nights sleep with the exception of the party boat next to us who decided that 1am was the perfect time to go swimming and blast out a bit of Jessie J.

Our New Crew

Welcome our two new crew...

Timothy and Sarah!

We welcomed them in yesterday and today. Timothy (the Monitor) and Sarah (the Autohelm) have proven themselves to be invaluable members of our crew.

I would never have actually recruited Sarah in the first instance, but I must admit. She is a great helmswoman when we are motoring up the lee of an island. We left her to it and only had to coax her once or twice as to a direction change.

Timothy on the other hand is a stalwart. No sooner had we left Bequia, did he leap into action. You only need to provide him with the most minimal of encouragement and direction and he does all the rest. How we lived without him I don't know. Although I do love to helm, helming for 7 consecutive hours while beating can take it out of a man. It is great when you have a crew member who loves doing it so much that he will do it for 24 hours if you ask it of him!

Sally and I were able to chill out and relax for the remainder of the trip. Safe in the hands of Timothy. As Orion is such a well balanced boat, Timothy had no problem coasting along at a comfortable 6 knots.

Sarah picked up her share of load earlier today as we motored up the coast of St Vincent. There was no wind and a flat sea. Ideal conditions for her I think. She was a real champ and did exactly what we wanted. I will be employing her more often to helm for us when we are motoring.

New Record

Our passage from Bequia to Wallilabou (St Vincent) was a great trip. It was blowing a fair bit as we crossed the channel and so we decided to just haul out the jib.

In 22knots of breeze, Sally managed to shunt us to 8.3 knots in 30 degrees of apparent wind. We had not even had time to lower the centre board...and we were towing the dinghy! This boat continues to surprise and amaze me.

I love it!

Bequia and the Turtles

Bequia is one of the few places in the world where the locals are still allowed to go whaling, however they are now limited to 4 humpback whales a year. Fortunately, they are only allowed to use traditional hunting methods on sailboats and so rarely catch anything (phew!).

After a lovely night sleep with minimal roll, Dylan and I attached the outboard onto the dinghy and puttered into the island's capital, Port Elizabeth. We were delighted to find a plethora of docks available to tie up, all looking quite sturdy and well lit. Having become used to the Lazy Turtle dock in Carriacou where you stand at a 45 degree tilt and wait for a wave break before you make a giant leap to shore, we felt privileged to step onto a small shelf looking very dignified and with minimal effort!

The locals have done a great job with the waterfront. There is a path taking you right along the bay full of quaint craft shops, local hang outs, restaurants and bars. Small shacks sell a large variety of fruit and veg making the main strip extremely colourful, unfortunately the food here is a lot more expensive than Grenada so we mostly look and don't touch. Although there are boat boys hanging around 'liming', we do not get approached on this island. With a higher percentage of charter traffic, they opt for the blatant tourists and leave us cruisers well alone. We are yet to hear the cry 'hey skip want any fish' from this place – heaven.

Saturday just gone was St Patrick's day and with our new friend Ian off Kadoona being Irish we thought it only right we helped him celebrate Bequia style! We located a bar that was showing the England v Ireland rugby game and proceeded to don fake tattoos. I had a vivenne westwood irish design on my cheek (at least thats how I justified wearing it) and Dylan had 'Honorary Irish' on his. Now looking like true leprechauns we watched Ireland get thrashed by England and helped Ian drown his sorrows with Guinness. Later the same day we went to the only place on the island that had a St Patricks Day party. Turning up at Baj's bar we surveyed the crowd and boy there were all sorts! Irish and Scottish ex pats had crawled out of the woodwork and donned green wigs, facepaint...even hair dye. But not only that, the locals who weren't even Irish had also got dressed up in the nations colours. It was a fantastic place to people watch and I was fascinated by the old black guys dressed liked pimps (just minus the cane) grinding up and down on some middle aged white lady who was loving it, some going as far as a full on 'snog'. Bleurgh. Being so near these people, I didn't take any pictures but I think those images will be forever ingrained on my mind. As 9pm neared, the bar informed us that they had run out of rum. Never mind though as we soon saw a plate going round full of green, white and red vodka jelly shots. No sooner had we sampled those, a plate of chocolate cake came round for a birthday girl at the bar. Wow, I was in my element!

The next day we went for a snorkel and got stung by a load of baby jellies. It seemed to be a pattern for the rest of our stay in Bequia, the waters were full of the tiny jellyfish. A dinghy ride to Devil's Table just at the mouth of the bay took us to a great snorkelling spot where there were loads of fish and coral to explore. With no turtles in sight, we decided to head over to the Old Hegg Turtle Sanctuary.

Old Hegg is ran by Brother King and funded by him too. He receives no government funding yet manages to increase the chance of survival for hundreds of hawksbill turtles. With the babies being so small and vulnerable, they just don't last out in the wild with predators and fishermen lurking. Odds of 1 in 3000 reaching full adulthood. Brother King takes the eggs from the beach and rears the turtles on canned tuna until they are 5 years old when he then releases them back into the wild. He has opened the doors to the public for us all to see the various stages of the hawksbill turtles from baby up to 5 years and he is full of information. Being a hunter of turtles himself back in the day, he is now at the stage of his life where he wants to put something back into the sea after it supporting him for so many years with a wife and 5 kids. Setting the sanctuary up from scratch having never seen one before, Old Hegg is rustic and no more than a large shed but thats what adds to the charm of the place. Here is a man that clearly loves turtles and has now devoted his life to saving them, we came away quite inspired. We laughed off a taxi on the way back and commenced a 4 km walk. On this return trip we came across an old abandoned sugar plantation house covered in tarzan vines and bougainvillea. Dylan the intrepid explorer went to check it out and found it home to a load of cute bats. It was like we had stepped into the Secret Garden, great to see them flying around in the daytime as we had disturbed their slumber.

Tuesday we wandered into town to buy more fruits and vegs only to find almost all of the shops closed. Double checking our watches and the date (in case it was a Sunday) we were most perplexed, the place was like a ghost town. When finding a taxi driver to chat to, he informed us that the Prime Minister had declared the day a public holiday so the locals could watch the cricket over in St Vincent! Alright for some hey, it must have been a last minute decision as no one had warned us and there were no signs up either. Another indication of the laid back attitude and culture of these islands.

Our final day in Bequia was spent treating Dylan to a hair cut as he had started to resemble side show Bob. A morning of preening over we turned our attention to the boat and the shitty task of cleaning the underneath of the dinghy. Seaweed and brown spots had started to grow on the bottom as we had not hauled it out of the water for a good month, dragging the dinghy behind us from island to island. With the outboard already secured to the stern, we set about rowing to a nearby beach where it would be easier to give it a good scrub. Well I say we...I sat at the bow giving directions whilst Dylan worked on his biceps. With such a big dinghy and useless oars, I opted to swim back to the boat so there was less weight for Dylan to struggle against. With no goggles and a hatred of salt water in my eyes, I proceeded to do the granny breast stroke back to the boat.

With our dinghy now gleaming and a passage plan decided we are heading off to St Lucia, The Pitons tomorrow - weather permitting. Having been told about the Classic Boat Regatta in Antigua starting on 19^th April, we now have a date and destination to reach!

St Vincent and the Grenadines

After spending almost 2 weeks in Tyrell Bay, we were getting eager to leave. Weather reports showed a slight change in the weather switching to an easterly which should make for a much more pleasant passage to Union Island. 

We did the whole "clearing out" process and it was quite chatty and friendly. We then took off from Tyrell Bay and as we did so, created a little video of us upping anchor and getting the boat sailing.

What can we say about the passage. The wind was good. We motored up Carriacou lee shore quite a way and laid the mark for Union Island (Clifton Harbour) effortlessly.

It was probably our best passage to date!

Union Island is lovely. The anchorage is terrible though. In the middle of the bay is a large reef and surrounding the reef are charterers. Dreaded creatures charterers! 

The bay is fully exposed to the wind and so as soon as you drop your anchor, the bow gets blown off and in a crowded anchorage that means coming uncomfortably close to other boats. When we first dropped anchor, the anchor chain got stuck (due to our sail) and only 20ft came out. when we blew off, Dylan could not come forward and yank the chain out as he had to man the helm, so there we were dragging our anchor while being blown onto other boats to the side of us and the reef behind us. 

We recovered from it quite fine and did another spin around the bay before relaying the anchor properly!

We went ashore to clear in and were blown away by how pretty all the stalls, stores and the general main street is. Vibrant colours are used to make it all look somewhat surreal like Noddy's toy village. 

Customs and immigration was a breeze. Although the customs officials were not the smiliest people in the world, we were not kept waiting and the process was painless. Immigration was easy and the woman was very pleasant. Dylan even cleared in on his "Green Mamba" (AKA the South African Passport) as he is saving the pages in his other passport for less friendly places.

There is a lovely story in Clifton Harbour of a man who was tired of looking at this mound of conch shells that littered the beach left by the fisherman, so in true entrepreneurial fashion, moved them all to the end of the reef protecting the bay and created his own little island and named it...Happy Island. It is a lovely little bar that has a dinghy dock where you can have a sun downer while looking towards Tobago Cays or behind you to the anchorage and watch your boat. 

PS: Clifton was one of the least rolly anchorages we have had so far. What a pleasure!

We decided we did not want to stay long in Clifton as we would try make the most of it on the way back down the chain so we set off the next day. As it was a lovely day and we were in no hurry, we decided to sail around Mayreau en route to Tobago Cays (this is also the easier path as the other more direct approach has a few reefs to navigate). We had a good sail up utilising the good easterly winds.

Tobago Cays! What can we say, other than WOW. It was picture book perfect. We moored in 10ft of gin clear water and could see the bottom. Not only that, large stingrays and turtles regularly made an appearance below us as they journeyed around the islands. 

We moored between the outer reef and Turtle Bay (a cordoned off section of water off an island for turtles to feed, unmolested by yachts and anchors)

The turtles were very sweet. Not too friendly or inquisitive having probably been harassed by many a charterer in their day, tended to clear off if you got too close. We found an old (5 year old) under water camera on board, so have been snapping away at the various sea creatures. 

Video of Tobago Cays does not do it justice, however you may be able to get a feel for what it is like.

That night, we met up with our new friends who had sailed against the wind from Oz to the Caribbean en route to Cork (Ireland). 

With the remaining half a Kingfish, we proceeded to have a lovely fish braai (BBQ) using our gas BBQ on the stern of our boat. Kingfish is great eating. And fresh fish has such a different taste to fish that has taken a few days to get to your plate. 

The bay clears out in the morning as all the charter boats head off to their next destination and in the afternoon the next batch arrives. Most of the time charterers are fine, however there are always a few who ruin it for the rest. A bit of a generalisation, however most of these inconsiderate fools are French, who do nothing to endear themselves to the rest of the sailing community. 

A large 54ft French catamaran moored on top of our anchor and only feet from our bow. This, coupled with the fact that they only had about 20 metres of chain out (of which 10 was from bow to seabed) had Dylan very anxious. He swam over and spoke to the skipper and said that we were leaving at 7am the next day and that they were over our chain. They assured us that they were leaving that afternoon. They did not and we spent a very anxious night in 29 knot gusts wondering if we would receive guests in the form of a family of perplexed looking frogs and an embarrassed skipper. Needless to say they did not drag, however they were still well and truly slap bang on top of our anchor come 6:30 when it was time to up sticks.

Dylan resorted to diving on the anchor and moving it aft of the cat. I had to do quite a lot to temper his enthusiasm to wrap a mooring line around their prop!

Unfortunately, we had to leave Tobago Cays after only 2 days there as we had some pressing matters to take care of that required a bit of infrastructure and telecoms. 

We set off for Bequia in a gusty east north easterly. It was a 30 mile passage and a beat the whole way. I was feeling a bit ill and Dylan helmed for most of the 7 hour passage. We were going to get the wind vane set up and had the rudder in the water and everything, however we thought we would wait for another voyage when we were both up to tweaking things.

As it was quite windy we decided to just use the jib and we were still peaking 7.5knots beating into a 22knot apparent headwind at 30 degrees off our bow. Centreboard was down and we flew along averaging 6 knots. What makes it even more impressive is that it is only a 115% jib! She can sail! Boy can she!

We arrived into Admiralty Bay in the early afternoon. Both quite chuffed at having completed well over 100 miles of sailing together as a team now. The next big one is our 1000 mile mark and our first night passage we plan on doing from Barbuda to St Barts (84 miles)!

Admiralty Bay is large and protected. We have a range of vessels moored around us. Every thing from large coastal freighters and fishing trawlers to small yachts. Most impressive is the square rigger that arrived after us. Will need to take some pics of it as it resembles a pirate ship. 

After a good night's sleep we are now off to explore the island and hunt down the bar with furniture made from whale bones!

Cooking aboard Orion

When Dylan and I were in London still working away in our jobs (o that seems so long ago now!) we decided to do a little experiment. Having read up on cruising life and also speaking to Dylan's parents, we attempted to live on a tinned food diet for a week.

Our usual food intake consisted of no breakfast or maybe some fruit or a muffin bought with our first coffee of the day. For lunch we went to one of the many city lunch hang outs such as Itsu (sushi), Pret a Manger (salad) or Wrap It Up (burrito). For dinner we usually ate around 9 /10pm and always bought the ingredients on the way home from work. Very rarely did we stock up on food, choosing to buy whatever we felt like en route to the flat. Dinner was our thing, the time of day where we dropped everything and stood together in the kitchen, preparing and cooking the food whilst we chatted away about the day. I suppose we had the odd tin of baked beans and bags of pasta and rice if we were feeling lazy but apart from that, our cupboards were permanently empty.

As such, we realised a change in behaviour was needed if we were to adapt to life on a boat! We would need to start putting random ingredients together to make a meal, plan ahead and learn how to keep the fresh fruit and veg fresh for longer. Cue the experiment.

Going along the tinned goods aisle in the supermarket, we were amazed what comes in a tin! Full English breakfast, asparagus, irish stew, hundreds of variety of beans and pulses. Filling our trolley we headed home and started to write a menu combining the non perishable items we now had in the cupboards. Some examples:

• Irish Stew and rice
• Fray Bentos pie
• Chilli con carne, mushrooms and rice
• Garden veg, chunky chicken and rice
• Dessert – pineapple chunks with custard

Now some of the meat tins tasted of dog food (I would rather turn veggie that consume them) but some of the tins were fine, we made a note of the edible versions to pick up when the time came to provision. Needless to say we didn't last a week, craving fresh produce we concluded our experiment and the remaining tins were pushed to the back of the cupboard.

Getting to the Caribbean and going on our first shopping trip, we realised how extreme we were being (although good practice for ocean crossing). Fresh fruit and veg are in abundance here but it does still need planning ahead as if you see it in the shop one day, you can almost guarantee that it won't be there again tomorrow. Writing lists is a thing of the past as you can never rely on the shops being fully stocked, menus are made up on the spot and we try to match items together whilst we push the trolley around.

Our meals now look something like this:

• Cheese, tomatoes and crackers - for lazy days
• Papaya with lime and sugar - breakfast
• Lentil curry - made in the pressure cooker
• Fresh bread and houmous dip
• Calalloo soup
• Fish with cous cous and tomato /onion mix
• Rice and black beans – for days we don't have fresh produce
• Biscuits chucking in any ingredients I may have – bananas, raisins, coconut, peanuts

In the Caribbean sun, our appetites have almost disappeared so one meal a day with fresh fruit in between is more than enough for us. We still maintain that cooking is a 2 person thing on our boat like it was back in the London flat and although the galley is a little small, Dylan and I dance around the tiny space, chopping at an odd angle so the other person can be tending the stove.

Buying the food and cooking it is one thing but the key to all of this is how to store it. Eggs shouldn't go in the refrigerator so we buy them in the stores, then like the egg and spoon race, we carry them in a plastic bag, navigating the other shops, the inevitable stop for a drink, the dinghy ride and the hauling back onto the boat, Hoping we haven't cracked them we keep the eggs in a special egg container that remains at room temperature (so 28 degrees here!). That way they last a lot longer and don't take up any space in the fridge.

Onions can't stay near potatoes, bananas can't stay near anything – Dylan and I play musical chairs with the fruit, moving it about so that they are comfortable with their next door neighbour. All the fruit and veg is washed before it goes in the fridge /hammock to get rid of any bugs. Any cardboard is stripped and left tied tightly in a plastic bag in the cockpit /dinghy whilst the food is transferred to a ziplock bag. This way we are reducing the likelihood of cockroaches that love to lay their eggs in the packaging.

If we are stocking up, this whole process from start to finish takes almost a day! Especially if the main shopping mall is a long bus ride /walk away. We always try and buy the local foods as they are a lot cheaper. Talking to the vendors we try all sorts of weird produce, often trying it out before we decide to buy. Although we miss Whole Foods back in South Kensington (a regular haunt of our on a Saturday morning) we can't help but get wrapped up in the passion of cooking over here. The locals live for their food and speaking to any of the vendors, their eyes light up when they divulge their favourite recipe for breadfruit like morbidly obese Rhonda does in Market Square, St George.

All this talk of food is making me hungry, as I type this, wafts of yeast come my way as a bowl sits on the counter, frothing yeast with water and honey. This morning shall be spent making stove top bread!

Carriacou Take 2

With the chain plates being fixed by the French guy, we have had a week to explore Carriacou for the second time, eager to make the most of our time here.

So a bit of history about the ladies of Carriacou. Apparently back in the day, this island was huge in lesbianism. With the men having to go away to find work in foreign countries, it left the strong willed women at home, lonely and bored. Having found this tidbit out, Dylan and I can't quite look at crazy shack lady in the same light again.

Crazy shack lady is an older woman that sells bananas out of her garden through a lean-to wooden shack. She has taken quite a liking to Dylan calling him pet names like 'baby' and 'precious' whenever we walk past. Dylan, lapping up the attention often ends up buying huge hands of bananas when we don't need them, just to remain the lady's favourite customer. On our way to a local beach one day, we bumped into her (later finding out her name is Venus) and she proceeded to accompany us for the 30 minute walk. As we followed the road, she regaled us with her life story. Marrying at 18, Venus lived in Trinidad but wanted a nice house whilst her husband wanted to be a career rum taster. 50 years on, still married to him, they live in separate countries. Venus chooses to live in Carriacou, making a living from going out into the hills, picking fruit and veg to sell from her garden whilst her husband is back in Trinidad, flopping about like a jelly fish. At some part in her life, Venus also lived in Canada for 10 years so she brings to our conversations a worldly wisdom, seldom seen in other locals who have only ever known Carriacou. Yet to whack out the camera and take a photo of her....but watch this space. 

As we go on random walks, we come across all sorts of animals just strolling about the roads, no leads or enclosed fields in sight! I am loving this, getting to see this cute animals up close and none seem to be afraid of human contact.

As well as Venus, we have got to know other local people as we have become familiar faces about the bay. Simon, the boat boy will come by our boat (and everyone else’s even if you are in the middle of anchoring!) selling his wares. We have bought some red snapper from him before, giving in to his constant 'oi skip' or 'hello good morning' at the stern of our boat. Getting louder and louder like an alarm clock until we pop our head up and acknowledge his presence.

Not wanting to rely on these boat boys, Dylan and I decided to go hunting for crayfish out on the reef. Armed with our 'crayfish tickler' which is little more than a stick with a hook taped to it, we jumped into the murky water, complete with snorkelling gear. Having battled the current for a good 20 mins, we came across a big rock that had tens of antennae sticking out – indicating we may very well be eating for free tonight. Dylan with stick in hand, dived down to the bottom, grabbing onto a smaller stone to keep him steady whilst he tickled the stick under the rock, hoping to latch onto the middle of the crayfish. I observed from the surface, eager to check out how these things behaved before I was going near them! No such luck, these creatures are wily and as soon as they saw us humans approach, they scurried right to the back of the crevices, far away from our prying eyes and sticks. Just as the sun gave up on us and started going down in the sky, Dylan managed to hook the stick around a relatively small one. Keen to get it back to the boat, I swam over to the dinghy and produced a bucket that we placed the creature in, antennae tickling our legs as we sped back to our boat. I was worried how I was going to kill it, but luckily for us, the poor thing gave up on life as it was travelling in the bucket back to Orion. By the time we picked it out of the bucket to put it in a pot of boiling water, it had no life in it. Dinner that evening was very yummy!

Being in Grenada for that bit longer, we decided to top up the Grenadian sim card. A mission in itself as we needed to go to a store to buy a top up card and the nearest one was in Hillsborough, a 15 min bus ride away – miles away from our contract phones back in UK!! Undaunted by this (well, we didn't have any other plans for the day!) we went into Hillsborough and hunted down a Lime Top Up shop. The shop was pretty much entirely dedicated to lottery tickets but also topping up lime phones. In its previous life, it was a big shop with loads of display cabinets and shelving. Nowadays, these units were covered in layers of dust and the current owners just used a desk right by the door. As we looked around, we saw old scales, gaping holes in the roof and old colouring books with the price tags still on. There were also 2 big wooden benches where it seemed the locals came to just sit and watch the customers. A rather niche business, we wondered how the owners ever made enough money but they seemed happy enough and they had a fantastic view out of the back to the ocean and local fishing boats. Another reminded to us of how life isn't all about money and efficiency!

Also in Hillsborough we visited Patty's Deli. A far cry from any other shops we had been to on the island, this shop sold great cuts of cheese, meats, fresh bread and Britishy produce. Although we are always keen to eat local produce, we had started to miss cheese that wasn't like eating plastic, bread that had a crust and meats that didn't look and smell like dog food. The owner of this shop had lived most of her life in London so it was a great surprise when she opened her mouth and we heard a Britishy accent in such a remote place.

It was in Carriacou we experienced our first 'rainy day'. As a comparison, back in London Dylan and I loved rain days. It was a great excuse at the weekend to stay inside all day and not feel guilty for being unproductive. We would often while away the day by renting movies on BT vision and I would bake some type of cake making the flat smell amazing. On a boat...we couldn't do any of that so we sat there thinking how we could make it just as fun, taking our mind off the leaky porthole and hatches complete with soggy towels mopping up the moisture. We dug around for any DVDs that may have come with the boat and settled for 'Its Complicated' and 'Paycheck'. Both alright movies, we then made banana and peanut cookies on the stove top (still got no oven). After consuming most of the cookies we commenced a mega tournament of dominos of which I of course won. By that time, it was dinner time and we stuck our head out of the boat to buy fish from the boat boy. So despite the wet towels, torrential rain and dripping hatches, we had a great day, ticked nothing off our to do list and still didn't feel guilty!

The next day, I was washing up the dishes, came to an end and threw the dirty sea water over the side only to see a spoon disappearing to the bottom of the ocean....oops! I called to Dylan and made a mental note of the position of our boat. Later that day, Dylan keen to become a salvage diver jumped in with his snorkelling gear whilst I pointed in the direction the spoon could be. Dylan couldn't find it anywhere and he had just about given up when he saw a moray eel swim past. Inquisitive to find out where the eel was heading, he followed it and found a second moray eel...guarding the spoon! Like magpies, the eels had surrounded the shiny object, guarding it with an evil stare. Dylan has always been slightly scared of morays (sorry love, its out of the bag now), perhaps he watched The Little Mermaid too many times as a youngster? Either way, rather than reach down and grab it, he kicked his flippers right at them until the swam off scared and he grabbed the spoon and came shooting up to the surface as if he was Poseidon with his trident. Bless, so easily pleased, as was I, still managing to keep my Corelle set intact!

Today we witnessed our first in politics at anchor. I was up at the bow reading the Kindle when I heard a guy yelling “I told you to move, now MOVE”. I immediately turn the kindle off, put my shades on to look less conspicuous and look for the source of the commotion. Whilst I am doing this, Dylan's head has appeared through the hatch in the v berth, also hearing the raucous in front of us. We hear it again, this time “go back to where you f*cking came from, MOVE”. Now this is very exciting, never before had we seen someone so passionately marking their territory at anchor. I hope we are never on the receiving end but boy is it entertaining to be a spectator!

I lie here at night typing this blog post, whilst listening for the fourth night in a row to a local nutter preaching very loudly into a microphone. We haven't seen a church in sight and the preacher certainly doesn't appear in the day, yet at night it seems the whole town comes out in force to support this guy. The man's voice defies the gusts in the bay and reverberates throughout the anchorage, “hallelujahs” and the awful wailing of the women singing the same song over and over again with the preacher adding the odd 'oooo ooooo' whenever the ladies pause for breath. We can't see any it from Orion which probably makes it more interesting as we can imagine what the scene must be like.

Tomorrow is our last day on the island as we hope to take advantage of the low winds on Friday (still 40 kph) and get up to Union Island. We shall miss the locals here but look forward to more fun experiences in the Southern Grenadines.

P.S. I asked Dylan to run his eye over this before I posted it and I kid you not – he reads it and comes out with 'good selection of grammar and humour'!  

Chainplates...

I suppose in hind sight, we were really lucky. Chainplates only really fail when under high load and that high load generally occurs with a large wind, sea and typically in the dead of night in the middle of the ocean (Sod's Law right?).

We could have been dismasted. THAT would have been a story and a half. Not the good kind either!

For the uninitiated, chainplates are the metal fastenings that link the hull to the rigging and come out of the deck. People probably know of them as “that thingy in the middle of the deck that I stubbed my toe on again”.

Needless to say, both Bill (Sally's father) and my father had banged on about bloody chainplates. “Check the chainplates” I had heard a number of times. Whats to check. They are in difficult to reach places surrounded in swathes of panelling requiring a degree in mechanical engineering and to be a part time contortionist at the Boswell Wilkie Flying Circus.

I had a full survey done by a very thorough surveyor. All the chainplates that were visible and accessible looked fine. No signs of rust, discolouration, anything! Using the rule of “the others look fine so I am sure they are too”, I did not give it a second thought.

Post experiencing the problem, a little research on the internet revealed that a number of other T37 owners have changed out their chainplates. Actually the very same plates that I severed. In all fairness, they were probably originals and at 33 years old had seen a fair amount of use over the years.

When we got back to Tyrell Bay, I hauled out the broken chainplate and sent it off to the Stainless Steel Fabricator guy. This charming little Frenchman who really does know his stuff.

There was me thinking that I could just get a new one made and sail away a few days later.

Oh no, not with my father scepticism. “If one of them is shot, they might all be...” says he. “Pull them all and check them”.

Sure, easy for you to say 2000 miles away in a first world country. Here I sit in a remote anchorage (which is not even near the Capital city) with a limited tool chest and he wants me to pull my boat apart to check all the plates.

As father is generally fairly cautious (and correct...but don’t tell him that), I did as instructed. The last thing you want is to be asleep one night in a real blow in the middle of an ocean crossing thinking to yourself...”If only I had checked those other chainplates when I had the chance, as I really don’t know what condition they are in...”

Sally and I spent the best part of a day deconstructing our little ship in order to slack off the rig, unscrew most of the cabinetry, unbolt all the plates and haul them out.

Not as hard a job as one might think though! I am sure it can be worse on some vessels.

We took all the plates to the Stainless Steel Frog to get checked out. He soaked them in phosphoric acid and cleaned them all up. Carefully with his magnifying glass inspected each plate and gave it the thumbs up or down. 

Both the main plates (the ones that hold the main stays that link the top of the mast to the deck) were fine. The 2 stays from the lower shroud (spreader) that lead forward of the mast were both fine too. We already knew that the starboard chainplate for the lower shroud that lead aft was kaput, we now got the verdict on the port one. It had a few hairline cracks in it. It too would need to be replaced. Happy to do it as I already had a boat with 6 holes in the deck. Might as well do the work now.

After enquiring about the boat and its age, construction etc the Frenchman responded in heavy froggie accent...“Old American stainless is sheet, European is much better. Modern stainless is much better than 30 years ago”

Another interesting thing is that when Tartans are rigged, they seem to just whack a hole in the deck and slide in a chainplate against a bulkhead. Little to no though about water penetration into the balsa core. Upon removing the plates, I could see the balsa core. I was expecting a ring of epoxy to protect it. The previous owner had been fastidious and kept good seals on all the chainplates and as such the wood was still in good condition. 

Instead of just “whacking them back in”, I mixed up some epoxy and coated all the wood core and the fibreglass sandwich with a thick application to act as a barrier to prevent moisture from wicking.

Now the old (good) chainplates are back in epoxy hardened holes with heaps of 5200 sealant.

Fingers crossed, we should not be leaking through the chainplates any time soon.

Orion on the seas!

A little video of us on Orion to give you all a feel for her, our living space and what we do.