Still Northing the Leeward Islands

We feel lost in time as we wander from island to island northward. We stay in one place until something prods us to leave, sometimes weather, sometimes officialdom which defines our cruising time. We thought we had a year to stay in Martinique, but it was a trick of the different method of writing dates (month first) and we suddenly had to scurry to check out.

We provisioned well in Fort de France, Martinique (wasabi!), I got a chic, short haircut and, with some difficulty, kept myself out of the millinery boutique crowded with feathers, fancy ribbons and leopard trims (where would I put the hats I fashioned?)

Next stop was Portsmouth Harbor, Dominica, where the local boat boys are organized and professional. We hired a taxi for a day to tour the island, especially impressed with the Caribe village with descendents of the eponymous tribe of Indians who originally settled these islands, killing off indigenous peaceful Arawak Indians as well as proving fierce opposition to the European colonizers. The present day Caribes call themselves Kalinago, partly to avoid their reputation for being canibals. Tthe local manner of baking cassava bread was impressive , using a foot-operated grater to prepare the taro root that has fed tropical natives for millenia. The short, oriental-looking Kalinago baker mixed the grated cassava with coconut and sugar cane, then baked round flat patties on a section of old iron cannon he heated over an open wood fire. it was delicious.

Dominica is unspoiled and spectacularly beautiful with 7 volcanoes and 365 rivers. We were advised to arrive early for the weekly market on Saturday morning. Partying begins on Friday night, the farmers arrive from the countryside about 3:00 a.m. to start setting out their fresh produce on the closed-off streets, and the revelers routinely buy up the best greens before they head home for bed.

It was an easy day-sail north to The Saints, a group of small islands off the south coast and part of Guadeloupe, and we were back into the routine of French baguettes, croissants and a local specialty cake called tourmants d'amour--a 4" cake/tart with guava or passion fruit filling, delivered to our boat at 0700 hrs. daily. We rented motor scooters to tour the island, which we easily could have circled twice even stopping to swim at every beach. It was my first time driving a scooter and I felt like a tough Harley biker babe, until the iguana I stopped to admire by the side of the road reared up and hissed at my tire, only inches from my ankle making me squeek and careen away.

A week passed and we headed to Antigua (An-tee-Gah), breaking up the trip to sleep in Deshaies (Day-hay), on the NW coast of Guadeloupe. As we came into to the anchorage we admired a superyacht clipper-bow ketch about 100 yds off our port bow. It wasn't until we had covered our sails and jumped into the water that Bill noticed the name Islandia on her boom-- my (favorite) (only) Uncle Harvey's boat. She didn't answer our radio hail and we didn't want to bother inflating our dinghy--which Bill is adamant about not towing, but let's not get started on that topic-- so I donned bathing suit, snorkle and fins to swim over. I bobbed and yelled (you can't just knock on the hull of a 130' yacht and expect anyone to hear) until my uncle came out into the cockpit. He's deaf (85 yrs.) and it took several minutes to figure out who this crazy lady in the water was. It was a great surprise for us all and we enjoyed quality time together in a way we've rarely had.

The superyachts in Falmouth Harbor, Antigua left our jaws hanging. You can google Maltese Falcon and Elena to get some idea of our neighbors.

We enjoyed two very touristy things on Antigua: a "Rainforest Canopy Zipline Tour" and snorkeling with stingrays. Although Antigua has no rainforest and it wasn't really canopy, it was lovely woods and we had a grand time riding 9 ziplines back and forth across creeks and rocky stream beds. The tour finished with a ropes challenge course; Bill had no problem and I was pleased my body still has some grace and balance. The toughest part of the tour was having to wear real shoes (sneakers, but still...).

We moved north to Barbuda and are now ending a 2-week stay at Spanish Point on the isolated southern coast, surrounded by reefs, dolphins and wild donkeys. Fast, free Internet is courtesy of the all-inclusive Cocoa Point resort about 4 miles away, where you can relax on the pink sand beach in front of our boat for a mere $1,000 per night per person. We figure we've saved $24,000 during this anchorage, enjoying all the same benefits of snorkeling and swimming, although I had to do the cooking.

We're out of beer so we'll leave tonight for the French side of St. Martin. We have no plan for how long we'll stay--we want to scuba dive at nearby Saba, and pick up some boat parts. We want to get to the British Virgin Islands soon to haul-out for painting Act III's bottom. A few days at anchor and we have a veritable forest growing underneath, home to god-knows-what critters. Even though Bill scraped 80 percent of it off, Act III still provides enough food and shelter for lots of little creatures. We hear them chomping at night.

We think about everyone a lot, and sometimes we wish you were here; but this time of the year, we never wish we were there.

Day To Day

We've written about our more memorable explorations and experiences, but not so much about our routine days at port.  Like everyone else, we need to find groceries, do laundry, run errands, exercise, maintain our "home," find entertainment and relax, but while cruising these mundane chores can be a challenge and delight. 

We don't rise with the sun like many cruisers.  We enjoy sleeping in and relish the frequent early morning showers when rain softly pitters against the plexiglass hatch above our heads, the boat gently rocks and and we snuggle contentedly in our king-size master berth.  We don't have a king-size bed at home, nor do we have 2 bathrooms (heads), so Act III is quite luxurious by comparision. (and remember: 2 heads are better than...  )  At home we started the day with one or more cups of fancy cappucino from our espresso machine, but now we're satisfied with a single cup of French press coffee, and we highly recommend the Friehling stainless-steel French press, which Miles told us about.  It's one of the few things that doesn't show a single bit of rust after a year of daily use.  Sometimes I make home-made pancakes, but more often we pick at fruit or breads and read for a bit while mustering energy to start the day's projects, which often begin with a swim.

In some islands, St. Vincent most frequently, you might not have to leave the boat to do your shopping.   "Boat boys" come to you throughout the day in brightly colored skiffs with outboard engines, proudly named "Alexis the Great", "Dragon Mon" or "God is Truth and Wonder," selling vegetables, fruits, fresh fish or lobster (spiny), t-shirts, breads, or they will deliver anything else you may need, like cases of beer or water.  For the most part they are friendly and cooperative, and their prices reflect the personal service, but some "boys" become aggressive and insulting if you don't need/want their services, which bums you out and puts  you off the anchorage.  This pushiness is also found ashore in the open-air markets, resulting in the officially printed sign in the Bequia marketplace that tells shoppers they have some rights, including "not to be pulled in different directions and having food shoved in their mouths for tasting."  St. Vincent officials are aware that hassling of cruisers can keep money away from the island, so has begun educating and training the locals, who are now officially "Beach Front Sevice Providers." 

Martinique, a much wealthier island, does not not have that sort of "service" but when we hear a conch shell being blown, we know there's fresh fish in town.  To go shopping we first must bail the u sual accumulation of  water out of our transportation, pack our own shopping bags, and make sure we have the right currency for the island:  euros or EC (East Caribbean Dollars = $.37).  We expect to get a little wet on our way to shore, thus we roam around town with damp, salty dinghy-butts--only one of many ways the locals peg us a cruisers (skin color and back packs are others).  We lock our dinghy to the docks, which vary from sturdy concrete with ladders to ramshackle floats of old tires with splintering boards balanced across.

Nothing we've seen compares to the grocery stores we have in the States.  Bahamas and Dominican Republic were the least well-stocked, while Grenada had a bright, modern IGA that actually stocked fresh milk once a week--we mostly drink UHT box milk.  The milk was just down the aisle from the attractively displayed pre-packaged chicken feet--the only product in the poultry section.  We've noticed that most islanders have no aversion to bones in their meat, so the wonderful curried roti (a kind of spicy meat and vegetable wrap) will likely have randomly whacked chicken legs with pieces of bone in--not my personal favorite.  New foods we've enjoyed include dasheen (taro), callaloo (green and leafy, like spinach), various fish we cannot identify or understand the local names of, plantains, and goat.  I did not find the advertised wild, fresh local iguana in Foodland, and I'm not sure how I would have cooked it.   Most of the stores sell clear 1 qt. plastic buckets of what I believe is an animal  product: large chunks of smooth, shiny, red-pink somethings in a purplish bloody liquid.  I don't even want to ask.  (Fact is, we've probably already eaten whatever it is in a local stew, but still...)  The small local store here in Trois Islet, Martinique--like our ubiquitous convenience stores--carries your basic necessities:  fresh baguettes, rum, wine, beer, brie and camembert cheese, soap, candy, pate de foie gras, and clear vacuum-sealed packages of something slippery pink labeled "groins de porc".  Looks like just what it says, and I'm not tempted.  We eat lots of vegetables and I can often find good local chicken. 

It took us about 5 months to find a battery for Bill's watch (yeah, he still wears one, as he needs to time some of his on-board chores, like water-making.)  The Spectra water maker Bill installed in North Carolina last year is a great luxury.  We never have to ration and nothing beats diving off the boat several times a day for a swim in warm Caribbean water, followed by a fresh water rinse on deck, then air-drying in the hammock rigged on the foredeck--no suits or towels involved.  One of our early projects back in the states was to find the correct (non-universal, French) fittings to extend the shower hose in our forward head so it reaches out the portlight to the deck.  At the time it was something like 30 degrees during the day, and we could scarcely imagine how fine it might be someday.  Ahhhhh.  It was worth the many trips to plumbing departments down the east coast.

Sometimes we find a laundry that will fold and dry for a reasonable fee, but normally I do that aboard using a bucket and the sink.  Towels and king-size sheets are the only hassle.  Dishes are washed mostly with the salt-water foot pump, with a fresh water rinse. 

Entertainment is easy, because we don't need much.  One can spend hours just watching the water or other boats in the area, and we read prodigiously, finding many unusual books at free cruiser book-swaps located at cruiser hang-outs, and our Kindle allows us to get anything as long as we have computer or telephone signals available.  When we have internet access we download favorite podcasts like Car Talk or Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me (our major news source), Fresh Air or RadioLab and listen during supper at sundown.  Then we go to bed and...read.

I need to end now so I can post on this trip to town.  We don't have internet access from the boat here, and the local shop with "wee-fee" has uncertain hours. Qnd I need extrq ti,e to figure out the French keyboqrd:

We love and miss you all.

From Ste. Anne, Martinique

Act III is happily anchored at Ste. Anne, Martinique. on the south coast. Martinique has by far the highest standard of living of its neighbors, with half the annual income provided by France. We drove to volcano Pelee, in the north, and encountered real traffic on real highways and passed real super-stores, with not a single goat on any road. Cheese, wine, bread--all the food, actually--and clothing are exquisite, and French is slowly returning to the top of the language heap in my brain.

Paul Shumway and Mary Beth Lambert, crew-par-excellence and our mules for electronics and drugs (Rx), flew to meet us in St. Lucia in late November. We cruised south to St. Vincent and the Grenadines, particularly enjoying Tobago Cays, where we swam with turtles. Thanksgiving dinner was dorado sushi that Paul caught--manfully landing it aboard while Bill tried to slow the boat, which spiked up to 10.5 kts. while flying our spinnaker--and frothy fruit daiquiris decorated with umbrella straws that Mary Beth brought with them. Special homemade brownies sent us off on a holiday parade around the deck singing "Iko, Iko". Paul brought his travel guitar and serenaded us many evenings.

St. Vincent is a poor island whose largest agricultural export is ganja--you can see the plants alternating with bananas trees as you sail along the coast. Many cruisers and our guide book recommend caution when stopping in St. Vincent harbors, explaining how to avoid hassles from the local boat boys who approach your boat several miles out and want to sell you stuff, or pay them to use shabby moorings, or pay them to protect your boat from other locals. Chateaubelaire was singled out a place to lock everything up and think twice about leaving your boat untended. Since Hurricane Tomas recently wreaked havoc on the crops of northern St. Vincent--making locals even more desperate, we were wary when we put our anchor down in the stunningly beautiful anchorage, even more alert for trouble since we were the only boat present. Immediately a small kayak left shore and headed toward us. Uh oh.

Well, we can personally report on the current situation in Chateaubelaire, St. Vincent: George, 15 and small for his age, greets your vessel, floats around and chats you up for 1/2 hour, does not ask for anything but accepts a coke, leaves you alone then returns the next morning to bring you bananas and asks you to sign his journal, in which he's collecting the names of all the boats that visit. That's it. Pretty scary.

We unwittingly created an official incident in St. Lucia when we dropped Paul and Mary Beth off in a town near the airport at the south of the island, to save them a long expensive taxi ride from our intended destination of Rodney Bay in the north. P & MB had no problem checking in and out with Customs and Immigration (C&I) at the airport, but when Bill and I came to C&I at Rodney Bay, with our papers from St. Vincent showing we had left with 4 persons, they immediately seized Act III and our passports, because a vessel is not supposed to discharge any crew until all have cleared in together. The Customs boat very publicly escorted us in from the anchorage to the marina, where we were famous while we stayed for 5 days (at their expense), waiting to hear our fate...the offense is punishable up to $5,000. Each day we were told by the local Rodney Bay Customs man that we would have information the next day (we're quite sure the local office was scheming to secretly get us to pay money to them directly). Eventually we were instructed to taxi to the main office 10 miles away and meet with a superior official, who was extremely fair and reasonable. It was clear to him that we had intended no harm so he gave us a short lecture on the regulations, and sent us on our way with no fine. When we returned to our local office to get our passports back, the female Immigration officer, who knew the entire story and who had seen us come to the office every day, slammed our passports onto her desk and growled that she was refusing us entry. Huh? She cut off our explanations with "You must leave immediately!" and yelled again at Bill when he finally said, OK, if you'll give us our passports we'll go. "YOU don't tell ME what to do. I'LL tell YOU when I'm finished. YOU sit down over there." The other officers in the room only looked at the wall or the backs of their hands as she ranted away. She (Agent 601) was the most rude public official we have ever come across--ever. So we left (not immediately...it was late in the day and somewhat unsafe to arrive at a new harbor after dark. Agent 601 didn't care when we expressed this concern, but also didn't look for us in the anchorage that night, maybe because Immigration's boat was owned by the marina and the marina manager was firmly, angrily on our side.)

When we spent some time at the anchorage in Rodney Bay, St Lucia, awaiting Paul and Mary Beth, we found it a charming place. Two weeks later, Agent 601 made it much less charming: she needs to be transferred to a non-public position. One thing we ate in St. Lucia that we've not seen anywhere else is stuffed boxfish, from a woman selling roasted goodies from her grill on the street. The boxfish is split on the belly side, filled with a fish and bread stuffing, and a few morsels of tender white boxfish near the spine were a delicious surprise. Another great experience we had at Pigeon Island State Park, Rodney Bay--before we became undesirable aliens--was finding an outstanding jazz group, InXS, who play a regular Sunday night gig at Jambe de Bois (Wooden Leg) Restaurant. When the band leader, Ricardo, disscovered Bill was a drummer, Ricardo insisted that Bill "bless his drums" by sitting in. Ricardo called for the tune, Stella by Starlight, which Ricardo renamed "Heidi By Starlight," and when Bill did not embarass himself or Ricardo on that number, a second tune was insisted on. Ricardo claimed Bill as his soul brother, and we were disappointed that Agent 601 required us to leave on a Saturday before we could share another night with InXS.

The holidays here in Martinique (where we easily handled the self-check-in by computer and no fees) are celebrated with lots of fireworks and music; the sounds travel well across the water and keep us entertained aboard (sometimes with great groaning on karaoke night)s. And when our neighbors dinghy home in the evening, our whole house rocks and rolls. Hope that doesn't happen in your neighborhood.

We wish all our famiy and friends a new year full of health, laughter and love.
Pictures: http://picasaweb.google.com/heidiberger2/StLuciaToTobagoCaysWithPabloAndMacbeth#

Grenada Hurricane Season

My good friend Wendy Berkeley recently asked how cruising has changed me and what I've learned about myself. I'm stronger,healthier and more patient than ever, but one thing is clear: I'm not a writer. If I were, well, I'd be writing. I wouldn't wait 2 months between blog posts when I had a perfect internet connection. Perhaps I'm simply lazy.

We successfully rode out hurricane season here in Grenada for 3 months. Only Tomas posed any threat at all 2 weeks ago, and the island prepared to be hit with 60+ mph winds. All day Friday, boats in the anchorages moved to more secure spots, put out extra anchors, laid in extra cases of beer and made plans to monitor the radio network all night. Boats at marinas, like us, put out so many extra lines the docks look like a spaghetti dinner, secured our dinghies, unrigged extraneous canvas and tarps and stowed all loose items. Locals emptied the grocery stores of everything fresh and canned. Then we waited, watched the weather sites on the internet and talked of nothing but updates of Tomas' predicted course, which early models showed going right over Grenada. The weather was slightly overcast, calm and, surprisingly, not at all buggy--one of the most pleasant spells of weather we've had here.

Then Tomas veered north and we got nothing but a few short rain squalls on Sunday. Unfortunately St. Lucia and St Vincents did not fare so well. We have plans to pick up Paul and Mary Beth in St. Lucia on November 20 and hope the island is recovered enough to allow movement and provisioning.

We left Clarks Court Bay Marina last week after nearly 3 months. Staying in one place for so long was productive as we used lots of power tools to completely strip and refinish all the brightwork (which already needs more coats of varnish in this brutal sun) and use our new Sailrite sewing machine. We got to know other cruisers and locals--better than we know our neighbors in Newmarket--as we all live in the open, sharing daily afternoon swims and a weekly shopping bus to the "mall" which has an excellent IGA supermarket. It's easy to hop on a local island bus for trips to the capital city of St. George's, and it's easy to spend hours reading books from the book swap or downloaded onto our Kindle, trying to stay cool.

We're now in Calvigny Harbour, 2 bays to the northeast, making our own water and power, swimming naked off the boat. We're anchored near John and Patti on Anhinga, who we met waaay back in Puerto Rico and who have also been here for the summer. We all enjoyed a divine meal of fresh Caribbean cuisine -- goat curry, barracuda, crabback (stuffed crab appetizer), at BB's Crabback Restaurant in St. George's on Saturday night, whose proprietor is a world class London-trained chef. It was a sort of farewell to Grenada dinner as we prepare to start leisurely cruising north in the next day or so. We'll check out of Grenada at the island of Carriacou to the northwest, then explore Bequia before getting to St. Lucia.

Highlights of our season on this lush, modern island full of spices, fruits, flowers, goats and warm people include, in no particular order:

---Lucky the African Gray parrot, who provided us with hours of amusement with her huge vocabulary. We taught her some whistles, but mostly she has us parroting her funny phrases.

---Playing a form of cricket. Who'd a thought? Average fluid consumption per match was 15 cases of beer and less than one case of bottled water. Bill took to the sport as easily as he takes to any game with a stick and a ball. I just stood there covered in Deet to deter bites from mosquitoes carrying dengue fever, and tried to stay in the crease. Final cricket match segued into a Halloween party.

--Live music and dancing at various venues. There's a steel pan school in St. George's--nice for a limited time but it soon becomes repetitive. One night I hula-hoop/danced with "Hula Mary", my new heroine, and can't wait to order my own hoop which comes apart for easy boat storage. Check out Hula Mary.

--Fresh sushi tuna for less than $2 per pound at the fish market downtown. Breadfruit ice cream. Baked Bakes. Fried Bakes! Never tried the fresh local wild iguana.

--The heavy-duty Sailrite machine paid for itself when I repaired our genoa and mainsail in the marina bar. I also fabricated effective and simple boat sunshade from a roll of "patio shield" material I bought at Walmart a long time ago for about $50. Ben was right to impress upon us the importance of shade capability on a boat.

--A leisurely Sunday afternoon dinghy raft, 14 boats strung together, as we floated across Clarks Court Bay to Roger's Beach Bar BBQ and live music (hot musicians from Switzerland-Pink and Lea Lu!) We swam off our dinghy island and passed appetizers and drinks, including a fine batch of herbal brownies.

We might have already reported this, but we are missing family and friends more than we expected and while this hot season in Grenada has been interesting, we want to spend the summer months in our home waters and visiting our children and grandchildren. Staying in touch with Skype and email is amazing, but it's not the same as being together. We'll chart a course home in May or so, although don't know from where.

Dear Readers: we love and miss you more than you know. And Bill and I still love being together as much as when we started. It's quite remarkable, really, and wonderful!

GMT (Grenada Maybe Time)

Heidi writes:
We're feeling some guilty that we haven't posted in so long.  No excuse, really, except cruising makes you lazy.
We've been in Grenada since the first of July, after swiftly sailing from the British Virgin Islands to St. Martin, St. Barts, Antigua, Guadeloupe, Dominica, Martinique, and finally the south coast of Grenada.  When Bill was due to travel home to NH for Shellen and Adam's wedding party, we moved Act III into a marina in Clarks Court Bay, where I would have help and company if any harsh weather came through.
The harsh weather came in the form of two family deaths in one day, within an hour of each other, while Bill was still in NH.  Heidi's father succumbed to prostate cancer, and Bill's son, Matt, got a sudden infection his body could not resist.  I flew home to join the family as we celebrated Matt's life and mourned his death.  Matt chose a time to die when his family was already gathered, so we were able to support each other.
We intend to stay in the Grenada vicinity (below 12 degrees latitude)  through hurricane season...until October or early November.  We have plenty of boat work while we're stationary:  varnishing, canvas and sail repair especially.  I'm excited to have a new Sailrite heavy duty sewing machine.
Some highlights of the recent months:
We awoke at 3 am. to leave St. Barts for Antigua.  I got up early to make coffee, and stumbled into our cabin to wake Bill.  His first words:  Do you smell fish?  Well, I replied, we're on the ocean and surrounded by fish. Bill said that didn't make sense.  I allowed that it smelled a little fishy, but not in the cockpit.  Bill crawled out of our bed and my headlamp spotted something long and white on the sheet.  A squid had leaped high enough to come through the hatch over our head.  Bill remembered  he felt "rain drops" and automatically closed the hatch in the night, then slept on a warm wet spot.  Yuck.  At least it didn't ink our sheets.
In St. Martin and Martinique we gorged ourselves on French cheese and pastries.  We don't find good bread on most islands.  I should bake our own, but the oven heats unevenly and I'm loathe to use so much propane to bake.
We spent several days in a sweet anchorage in Antigua, no other boats and fast, free internet.  We deserved a rest after a rough sail from St. Barts, going through several heavy squalls and rough seas.  Act III behaved perfectly, but I get seasick when conditions are rough, so I'm not much help to Bill.  He is amazing when the going gets tough, scrambling forward to untangle sheets or re-secure an anchor that bounced loose.  We diligently wear out lifevests and clip into jackklines  at night or when the weather is sketchy.
This marina is friendly and convenient. We have excellent internet connection, making it easy to call on Skype, and I take a shopping bus once a week to the local IGA (with shopper discount cards, even), hardware or marine supply store. Cruisers are social people and there's weekly movie night, dominoes, language lessons, beach bar, burger night, and this week, a Drag Queen contest for the fellas.  (shhh: Bill doesn't yet know I'm planning to wrap him in my sarong.)  Unfortunately, the biggest celebration on the island, Carnival, took place during the time we were in the states.  
Thank you, dear readers, for you patience.  It's always great to hear from you, even if it's to scold us.  We'll try for more frequent, shorter posts.
Bill writes:
Thank goodness for Heidi's good memory.  As I read the above account, I know that it is accurate, but if I had had to remember each passage, it would have been a jumbled tale.
The family deaths were hard, but the feelings of sadness and loss were balanced by amazing warmth and love.  Family and friends cried, laughed, hugged, swore, planned, ate, drank, and enjoyed each other and the world.  It was especially wonderful to see how our granddaughter Fionna  and grandson Lorenzo had matured so beautifully.  Fionna just ran her first one-mile race, and finished ahead of many of the adults: not bad for a six-year-old.  Lorenzo, two-and-a-half, is about to start pre-school. His mom and dad have been talking about how he seems to be ready for all kinds of "big boy" activities.  Lorenzo agreed enthusiastically, announcing that he thinks he is ready to drive.  Our newest granddaughter Sare, amazed us all with her sweet, alert personality.  Is there anything more comforting than holding a seven-week-old baby?  http://picasaweb.google.com/bilral/FamilyAndFriendsTheBest#
Heidi did an amazing job preparing the boat to be unattended: pickled the watermaker, closed all through-hulls, emptied the fridge, cleaned, removed the sunshade, prepared extra lines in case of storm, etc.   How did I get such a great woman?  Guess I hit the sailors' jackpot.  When we returned, ACT III didn't have a hair out of place.  Even more impressive, no foul odors.  She feels like home.
These past weeks have made us realize how much we miss our family and friends.  We're seriously considering sailing back to our home-port next summer before hurricane season.  Meanwhile we are happy and healthy.  Heidi will have to catch me if she expects to get me wrapped in her sarong.  I'm looking forward to the cricket match this Saturday.  Last time I was high scorer, ensuring a free beer for me and a victory for our team, "The Rest of the World"  against "The Brits".  As our son Ben says, "The Brits have been trying that "Brits against the rest of the world" thing for a long time; haven't they learned it doesn't work?"  Of course in our cricket game, we used a tennis ball, and the Brits were friendly, funny, helpful coaches to the team they opposed. http://picasaweb.google.com/heidiberger2/GrenadaCricketMatchBritsVsTheRestOfTheWorld#
Fair winds everyone.
http://picasaweb.google.com/heidiberger2

BVIs with Soterion

Act III will leave the British Virgin Islands tomorrow, Monday, 6/14/10, on an overnight passage to either the French (north) side of St. Martin, or to Saba, a remarkable small island, just the tiptop of a mountain, actually, 24 nm. to the southwest of St. Martin. If we don't need provisions--and I hope to buy fresh foods when we take a taxi to check out at Spanish Town before departure--we'll skip St. Martin so we can spend extra time at Saba. We hate to rush, but we've must get out of the hurricane belt soon. Grenada is our destination for this season, and we console ourselves with the plan to sail back up the chain of eastern Caribbean islands next "winter." We are stragglers this year, with most other cruisers well on their way to New England or the southern Caribbean, but we are rewarded with uncrowded anchorages and off-season prices. Here in the Virgin Islands, we are usually the only private boat, with the waters dominated by thousands of crew-or-bareboat-charter catamarans marching from island to island carrying happy but often clueless vacationing sailors. Ben and Nikki say it's great entertainment to watch these boats ignore nautical marks and try to pick up moorings in unorthodox ways.

Earlier this week Soterion sailed back to Tortola for work, and we sailed from Virgin Gorda to Anegada, an atoll with elevation 30' and surrounded by miles of beach and reef, perfect for clothing-optional swimming and snorkeleing, and colorful beach bars (not C/O, and the cowboy hat fabricated from a cardboard Budweiser case was in poorer taste than nudity, no matter what your opinion.). At Cow Wreck beach you go behind the bar and mix your own drinks or help yourself from the coolers of beer and soda, and keep your tab on a small yellow-lined legal pad. I wonder how well that works after a few hours of pouring your own drinks, or doing shots of absinthe, the drink of choice for Jean Lafitte and Doc Holliday, illegal in the US, which supposedly induces hallucinations. A boozy gang at Cow Wreck was daring each other to go for the hallucinations when we left with our bellies full of spicy conch cerviche. Me, I feel I'm hallucinating every day, as I dive off Act III into warm, crystal-clear water after my morning coffee, although yesterday I scrabbled back up the ladder when I was face-to-face with a smiling barracuda using the boat for shade. I know, I know, they won't bother me, especially since I wear no jewelry, but I just couldn't relax when he kept turning to face me...grinning widely. Bill, however, said "Cool" and jumped in with his very shiny camera to play with Barri.

It's not all fun and games and there's work to be done daily, even though the tropical heat makes us lazy. Power-management is critical to keep our 6 golf cart batteries and one dedicated starter battery full to run our lights, water pump, watermaker, computer, refrigerator/freezer, radio, special-occasional margarita blender, and start the engine. The freezer is finally empty of the meat I stocked in Fort Lauderdale, so that will reduce our power needs. The watermaker sips energy and is a great luxury where hauling water to the boat is labor-intensive and expensive, if available at all. If we're motor-sailing, the engine charges the batteries; when we're at anchor Bill runs a 1,000 watt portable gas generator. This "project" involves keeping gas in our gerry jug, getting the generator from the deck box where it fits neatly, starting it up, plugging in the power adapter cord, then lying in the hammock reading or thinking (or not) for a few hours.

We read a lot, often going through a book a day, which we pick from the eclectic assortment at free book swaps found at every marina or laundry. I just read an unproofed edition of Black Hats, that has Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, and Al Capone in a fictional confrontation in NYC. The history of the OK Corral and description of prohibition was interesting, but mostly I enjoyed remembering Val Kilmer as the definitive Doc Holliday ("You're a daisy if you do.") Fortunately, Bill's Kindle allows us to download most anything, and he just finished Obama's Dreams From My Father.

Yesterday we realized we have no idea what's happening in the Gulf of Mexico. Last we heard, oil had been spewing for 50 days and BP was planning yet another dubioius solution. Whatever happened to "If it's too deep to cap, it's too deep to drill in the first place?" We'll check when we take the computer ashore today. Then we'll check the USA/Britain World Cup Soccer score. But only after downloading weather information and looking closely at the National Hurricane Watch site.

[photos]

PS/ Just read the latest on the BP oil spill. Damn!

Virgin Islands

Four weeks ago we left Luperon, Dominican Republic, sensing that many cruisers had become stuck there. To be sure, it's difficult to make one's way east against the tradewinds on the relatively unwelcoming northern coast of the DR.   We sailed at night when the wind and seas calm down, and stayed close to shore to make use of the counteracting cool Katabatic winds that come off the mountains.  We stopped and slept during the day, informing the skeptic officials at each anchorage who came out to Act III via local fishing boats to inquire why we were stopping there and not going on to Samana as our despacho indicated, that, "Bientot no es bueno.  Vayamos esta noche." (Wind is not good.  We go tonight." They were satisfied with the answer; more satisfied with the cold Coca Colas and gifts of small bottles of rum.  We arrived and cleared out of Samana, on the NE coast of DR, in a few hours, although that process involved 2 visits to the boat by officials (more cokes and rum), and a trip to town by Bill, where the commandante's office would not give him a copy of paperwork we needed to officially exit. We were a little concerned that we were being held hostage until it became evident that the office simply had no blank paper to make a copy.

We hurried across the Mona Passage between DR and PR within a good weather window, then checked in and stayed a couple of days on the southwest coast of Puerto Rico in Boqueron, a lovely town mostly used for holidays by locals. From there we made easy short hops along the southern coast of, stopping at Salinas and Puerto Patillas before a good weather forecast allowed a longer passage to St. Thomas, USVI.  For the first time, Bill was off our projected arrival time by more than an hour: we were 12 hours early!  We had expected to motorsail into wind and waves at about 4 kts, but a fortunate wind shift gave us a boost and Bill couldn't keep Act III sailing under 8 kts.  He wanted to go slowly so we wouldn't arrive at a foreign port in the dark, but as we continued to make excellent time, we realized we could make it just at sundown, and dropped anchor at St. Thomas with enough ambient light from the busy town and cruise ships of Charlotte Amalie, US Virgin Islands.

We had not been in touch with Ben and Nikki for a couple of weeks, so when we called them that night to report our location, we were thrilled to learn they were merely 5 miles away from us in Christmas Cove, Little St. John.  We easily got to Soterion the next morning in time to share hugs and wave goodbye before they left with guests for a week.  Bill and I spent that week near Red Hook, St. Thomas, seriously depleting the cruising kitty at Lotus, the local sushi restaurant, riding the $1 Safari bus around the island, and keeping track of the spotted eagle ray that lived in our anchorage.  After many months of Bahamian rice and peas (beans), our mouths welcomed the fine food.

When Soterion returned her satisfied guests to St. John the next week (they already booked a repeat trip for next year), Ben and Nikki hosted us in grand style aboard their beautiful yacht and led us around their stomping grounds in the British Virgin Islands: Hawksnest Cay, Maho Bay, Marina Cay, Trellis Bay, until we stopped at Nanny Cay, Tortola, where we currently sit on the hard putting a new propeller on Act III. We took a hotel room for the night, our first time sleeping on land since leaving New Hampshire.

Some random memories of this month:

* Many small pongas fishing off the coasts at night showi no lights, making them dangerous hazards. Bill fortunately caught a glimpse of light and steered away barely in time to avoid hitting one off the north coast of DR.
* Heidi baked quite a nice spice cake in the uneven-heating galley oven for Bill's birthday. Julia and Jurgen from Norway joined us for his birthday dinner and treated Bill to the traditional Norwegian birthday song, which includes a little dance with hops and spins.
* Sounds of the Seacoast, the chorus which Heidi left to go cruising, took first place at the regional competition in April, proving that Heidi was holding them back :)
* Bill got a perfect shave-and-a-haircut, $11, with a straight razor (!) at Puerto Patillas, where we were driven both ways by a generous young man who didn't think these 2 old farts could walk 45 minutes to the town center. We walked to a restaurant later that night and a passing driver hollered from his truck, "SIR!  HOW'S THE HAIRCUT?  Small town and we stick out like, well, like cruisers.
* Nikki's amazing gourmet dinners and treats aboard Soterion.  No wonder guests come back year after year.
* Nikki and Ben took us to most spectacular snorkling at Waterlemon Cay, near Maho Bay, St. John.  {Photos} In Trellis Bay, Ben led us on two fabulous scuba dives on healthy live coral reefs.
* We can't believe this is our life. Here we finally wake, drink coffee and fall over the side into clear turquoise water to play with the fish.