With a long down wind passage coming up and a worn Monitor part (wind vane, probably due to over use) we thought it wise to order the spare part prior to the thing breaking on us. Thinking ahead of all possibilities and planning the best way to optimise our sailing passages is something that we have learnt the hard way! Failing to plan is planning to fail as my old Geography teacher used to drum into us. The spare part could not be found in the Caribbean (because that would just be too easy!) so we had to get the plastic disc, that cost us all of $15, shipped from LA. Paying for priority shipping ensured that it got to us within 10 working days, it also meant we spent more on the shipping than we did the part!
With 2 weeks to kill until the arrival of said disc, we bobbed around Grenada, checking out the other anchorages. Two weeks come…and go with no sign of our package. Getting bored of the crowded anchorages and murky waters we yearned for isolation. We had already checked out Saline Island (see previous blog post) so we went exploring other areas to kill our time before the parcel showed up, using Don Street's Cruising Guide to the Caribbean as our main source of info.
White Island is right next to Saline Island on the South side of Carriacou. I am attracted to white sandy beaches like a magpie is drawn to shiny things (as it happens, I also am drawn to shiny things). Beach combing is one of my favourite past times so I never forego the opportunity to check one out. White Island has a great beach and we approached the island from the East, anchoring in 10ft water near the shore. Although exposed to the winds, the reef limits the chop but it was probably one of the more rollier anchorages we have been to.
As soon as we drop the anchor, Dylan beds it and I swim ashore. I jump over the side, put my mask on and plunge my head into the water - to be greeted with a big eagle ray coming to see what all the noise is about. The tail must have been 2 ft long, with Steve Irwin in the back of my mind, I gave it a wide berth and headed for terra firma. Walking to the windward side I come across a clearing that had rickety handmade tables and benches built around trees complete with an old rusty grill. Perfect braai area (thats BBQ to us Britishy people)! We had sailed to White Island with friends on Vagabundo and Toots so as I arrived back to the boat with news of my discovery, the boys went hunting for fish and lobbies whilst I had a well deserved rest, sun bathing on the bow - its a hard life.
A haul of barracuda and 6 lobbies as well as side dishes accompanied me and a very excitable Dylan ashore to start the fire. Perhaps its being South African but at the slightest mention of a braai, Dylan is getting out his machete, grill and putting the beers on ice in eager anticipation of the evening ahead. Maybe its not his heritage but more him being a closet pyromaniac.
As we drank and enjoyed the good food and company, we could hear a rustling around us. Now to describe the scene, its pitch black but for a few of us wearing head torches so we can see what we are eating. There is no light pollution with no man-made structures in sight so apart from what is directly in front of us, illuminated by the torch, the rest of the scenery is plunged into darkness. Getting out my mega maglight, I shine the beam on the source of the noise and light up a swarm of hermit crabs. Not sure if that is the right collective term for hermit crabs but it sure described the scene in front of us. There were hundreds of these moving shells climbing over each other and having a squabble for bigger accommodation. I have never seen anything like it, everywhere I shined the torch the floor appeared to be moving with the odd sighting of a purple claw. They weren't shy of us either, many taking a route over our feet as a short cut to their destination - leading to many a squeal when we felt its claws on our toes! Getting in the spirit of things, we had a hermit crab race, picking one each and putting them in the middle of a circle. Mine came last, it was the biggest of them all and appeared to take a nap when we said 'GO!'.
Later that night I found a naked hermit crab with no shell. Wanting to help it out I went in search of a new home. Every shell I picked up seem to already have an inhabitant, glaring back at me as I disturbed its sleep. Eventually I came across a discarded shell and quickly walked back to the naked hermit crab (poor thing) to protect its modesty. The crab knocked on the shell and confirming there was no-one home proceeded to reverse into the hole, squirming his way into the swirl of the shell. Unfortunately the shell was a little on the big side and when he had positioned himself correctly, he couldn't lift it! After much exertion he decided to abort his mission and scuttled off to find a better option. Poor guy, I hope he found one!
After a rolly night we went to check out the west side of White Island in the dinghy to see if we could drop anchor there in between the reef where it was more protected. With a colourful reef below us teaming with fish, we donned the snorkelling gear and went for a drift dive…into the current. As Dylan was armed with his lobster catcher, I drew the short straw of having the dinghy painter tied around my waist. Swimming into the strong current with a good 80kg of extra drag behind me gave me an awesome workout! We caught loads more lobster but decided to just anchor where we knew in Saline Island for the second night and have yet another beach braai.
Finally our parcel had arrived, 5 weeks from ordering to receipt! Moral of story, don't use the US Postal Service (USPS). Once the parcel leaves the US, they no longer track it so all we knew was it left LA on a certain date with no idea where it had gone since. With no ties to Grenada anymore, we started heading North up the chain to our jump off point of Bequia.
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| Me shell collecting in Corbec Bay |
Apart from the usual places mentioned in the Doyles Guide (Clifton Harbour, Union Island and Salt Whistle Bay, Mayreau) we also stopped at Corbec Bay on the western side of Canouan. This is a very small cove with room for only one boat, lined on both sides of the entrance with coral heads. Securing a bow and stern anchor we lay bow to the wind and waves, making a most comfortable nights sleep with plenty of ventilation coming down the hatch. This place was excellent because we were 100% certain that no-one could come in and attempt to anchor on top of us (made paranoid by a recent situation where a French cat almost dragged on top of us in Salt Whistle Bay)! The cove has clear blue water, teaming with pelicans and crashing waves against the reef with a view straight out to sea. Snorkelling on the north side of the bay was excellent, the coral wasn't great but was teaming with fish. Dylan rates all his snorkelling experiences on how many lobsters he can find (I wonder if he will ever get tired of this obsession?) so he wasn't that thrilled with the place. I swam ashore for some shell searching and found 5 or so worthy of my collection. After 30 mins however I succumbed to the mosquitos and dived back into the water. Good job the wind was constant and above 10 knots, keeping the bugs well away.
Next stop Bequia where we make the jump off to Bonaire via the Venezuelan islands of Los Roques and Los Aves.
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