Photo thanks to North Sails.

Down The Line

We have covered some ground since the last time we emailed: A week in and around Pointe de Pitre, Guadeloupe, a miserable night anchored in Les Saintes (I will translate that into English--The Saintes), some time (I lost track) in Dominica and now we are beginning our first visit to St Lucia. We skipped right by Martinique but we don't have any explanation why. Just didn't feel like it.

The sailing has been pretty awesome. We are as far east as we will get now so we have had reaching conditions; mostly beam reaches in reasonably flat water whenever we are in the lee of the islands, but big waves in the inter-island passages. The water is deep blue with white froth on the top of every wave, like the very best days at Block Island. The waves are much bigger than anything we ever get in New England. Some waves break and when they do you look right through translucent green crests. In the spots where the waves break the water stays green for a minute so that if you are a little spaced out you see the green spot and think there is a 20' deep shoal in the middle of the 600' channel. Of course, at night it is just black and white.

We have had waves break right over the side of Calvin, dumping hundreds of gallons of sea water into the cockpit, but thankfully that is a very rare occurrence and the water is 90 degrees. When I am driving I allow myself 30 degrees of off-course steering and try to bear off to a broader angle for the steepest waves. The best wave faces are about 60' long so Calvin can get fairly vertical. This boat is a great surfer despite full tanks, our growing pile of stuff on board, a dinghy on the deck and our typical sailplan of 2 reefs and a staysail. The best rides last for well over a minute and allow us to steer the boat back onto the intended course with the foils still humming loudly. Matt is not allowed to steer off course because we have a running competition for high speed and this is the only way I can beat him. For the record, I am still ahead of him at 1 on 1 basketball as well, and don't see that changing until he reaches 5'6" or so.

These last few islands have some historical similarities but their respective recent governments have taken them down different paths. Antigua, Dominica and St Lucia all gained independence around 1980. Guadeloupe is a full fledged province of France, just as Hawaii is a US state.

Guadeloupe

Guadeloupe is home to some 350,000 souls but it is a big island and has the infrastructure and financial backing from the motherland to support the population. There is a high rate of unemployment, but it is a socialist society so the unemployed are either busy with "new deal" type of make-work programs or stuck in traffic jams so you don't see them. It looked to us like a prosperous place with well organized agriculture, good roads and nice homes through the entire range of the income scale. They did not seem too concerned with tourism but who knows; they speak French there so we admittedly had little idea what was going on around us.

One day we borrowed the van from the local North Sails loft and drove to the center of Basse Terre (translation: the left wing of an island that looks like a butterfly) in order to climb up to a famous waterfall. Driving a car was kind of fun. We found the trail head with little difficulty and saw some of the island interior on the way. The trail was muddy but well marked all the way to the "3rd Chute." The 3rd Chute is a 100' waterfall like you might see in a National Geographic essay about a place like, oh, Guadeloupe. The kids went swimming under millions of gallons of crashing water. Karen and I watched and wondered if we were incredibly irresponsible, or spectacularly well adjusted parents. After we coaxed them out of the water we continued our climb to find the 2nd and 1st chutes which would complete the reported 300 meters of spectacular falling water. Not far up the trail there was a largish sign that we stared at for a long time but could not translate. I joked, " It probably says, 'attention fellow Euro-hikers. Do not tell the Americans. This trail goes on for another mile and then peters out in the jungle. You can not possibly get to the 2nd and 1st Chutes on foot from here. Go back to your cars and drive there. Again, do not tell the Americans.'" Turns out I was right but we had fun climbing up the river and bushwhacking where the little falls were impassible until we reached our turnaround time to give Andrew his car back.

The Saintes are a group of islands that we did not see because their anchorage is, well, not an anchorage. We arrived there at sunset, moved twice during the night and split at first light. It looked like a nice place to visit from a ferry boat.

Dominica

This island is as unspoiled as anywhere we have been. The interior is a towering mountain range carpeted with true rain forest and banana and citrus fruit plantations. The coastline is largely unfriendly to yachting with only a few legitimate safe harbors. All attempts at attracting tourism have failed and, somehow, that makes it a wonderful place to tour. Antigua has abandoned their agricultural resources, throwing in their entire lot to tourism. Accordingly, outside of the yachting centers, there is nothing to see in Antigua except a disgruntled population scrapping for the few tourist dollars that they can trick onto their island.

Dominica is different. It is an enchanting island where it seems that anything dropped onto the ground sprouts up into plantlife of outrageous proportions. We took tours with a local guide, Martin, who came recommended by our friends on AQUILLA. Martin has studied to make his living as an Eco-tour guide. He knows nearly as much about Caribbean botany as our friend and delivery crew, Mark Gorden. We went up the Indian River in his boat and on another day rented a Jeep and paid him a pittance to drive us to hikes through the rainforest and to another mind-numbing waterfall. We saw old-growth trees tall and straight enough to build an entire house, leaves that are so large they are actually used, individually, as umbrellas, ferns of seemingly 100 varieties and Riverwood trees with above-ground root systems that we could walk through.

Walking along the road on the way back from the waterfall we picked up fallen fruit and filled the back of the jeep with bananas, grapefruit and oranges. We could have filled a dumptruck. Martin showed us wild herbs, grasses, berries and tree bark that are used for everything from healing open wounds to enhancing Dad's nocturnal performance. Bush Viagra.

Portsmouth, where we anchored, is the best natural harbor we have seen so far. Two miles of black volcanic sand that shoals so gradually that yachts could anchor 6 deep along the entire waterfront and still be in less than 40 feet of water. Dominica is the most northerly of the "boat boy" islands. We were met by the first boat boy 5 miles offshore. Some of them have 25' skiffs powered by new, 40 hp Yamahas and others paddle windsurfers that they have bartered off of visiting yachts or more likely found washed up on the beach. We like the boat boys. We have met other cruisers who have had bad experiences. But so far all of the ones we have met are just people trying to make a living. Our feeling is that, as long as the .com phenomena continues on Wall Street, we are happy to spread the wealth.

The waterfront in Portsmouth is littered with wrecked boats; empty, rusting tankers, smashed interisland transports, all manner of local fishing boats, the odd windsurfer. Every boat is identified as a victim of either Hurricanes Hugo, Marilyn or Lenny. We ask why they don't pull the boats off the waterfront and sink them at sea and are met with shy smiles or blank stares. An oceangoing tug sits offshore 2 days each week waiting to pick up the fuel barge. Why not put it to work? Maybe the new government, which will be elected at the end of January, will get something done.

They have elections every 5 years. Each night we were in Portsmouth there were political rallys for one of the 3 parties. The rallys lasted well into the night and involved bands, motorcades, speeches and a palpable sense of humor. The parties are the Red (Labor Party) , Blue (United Workers) and Green (Freedom) parties. The Green party has been in office for the last 5 years and no one gives them a chance in the coming election. Seems they have had enough Freedom for the time being. Everywhere we go on the island there are red and blue flags on poles, fences, car antennas. Portsmouth seems to be largely a Labor Party town although the minority Blue flags are nearly as prevalent. It is just that the speech makers and other loudmouths seem to be for the red. I tried to get some idea about what the platforms were but couldn't really work it out any better than I have ever been able to in the US during election time. Maybe I am just politically dense.

One day we saw a funeral. The casket was in the back of a Toyota pickup truck and a large, reasonably upbeat mourning party followed the truck on foot. They sang hymns as they walked toward the cemetery. People not involved in the procession sat or stood along the route and quietly gave the universal-Caribbean greeting of "all right". We waited in the car with Martin. He told us about the person who had just passed, a very old lady who he had of course known all his life. He then told us that, what they believe is, the oldest person in the world lives in their village. She will turn 125 years old in Feb.

We drove past Martin's house. He and his wife and daughter live in what can best be described as a one room shack, with a separate building, maybe 5'X8' that is used for cooking with charcoal, right on the beach. The kitchen building was destroyed by Lenny so they are currently living with another family back from the water until he has enough money to repair the kitchen. After showing us this house, which was built by his grandparents, at the end of a day of touring the rainforests and plantation lands, Martin turned to us in the rental Jeep and said, "We are a very rich people." Hard to argue that.

We left Dominica at 2:00AM for a 100-mile sail to Rodney Bay, St Lucia. Leaving at 2:00AM might appear strange but it works out pretty well. Karen and I can get the anchor up and the sails hoisted. Then Karen goes back to sleep and I get to play single-handed sailor for about 5 hours. The sun comes up along with Karen, Dani and Matt and I go below to read for the rest of the trip. We can average anywhere between 8-9 knots, depending on how much we want to heel, so we are in the new anchorage by early afternoon. On this passage Karen and Matt saw a herd of dolphin jumping to what they claim was 15 feet out of the bow wave. Karen always gets the dolphin.

St. Lucia

St. Lucia seems alot like the perfect place to live. It is a little bit British but in a good way. There is a healthy balance of agriculture and tourism and everything works. The first two days here we went on a shopping spree. We bought 75' more anchor chain and a larger anchor rode, paying close to $400US for what I could have traded Phil Garland for a 6-pack of O'Douls. (But I am sleeping much better at anchor as a result.) Then we went to a stateside-quality bookstore and dropped another $1000 EC on new reading material. Finally 3 new CDs and a can of WD40.

Today we went to a park here set in yet another ruins of an 1800's British military installation. The Brits have left cannons and fortresses all over the Caribbean. At the park there was an elaborate production for the 70th birthday of Derek Walcott, a St. Lucian poet and playwright who in 1992 won the Nobel Prize for Literature. It was a happy, yet bizarre event. The MC wore a black T-shirt with a cartoon of a lion on the front. He introduced the Prime Minister, a lady, who walked up sans entourage from the direction of the parking area in navy blue double-knit slacks and a floral print, polyester blouse, taking a seat among the rest in a plastic chair. Then the St. Lucia Police Band, basically a wind ensemble, played a piece where the brass and woodwinds talked quietly back and forth for about 10 minutes. That was followed by a short welcome from the MC. He welcomed the Prime Minister, the friends and family of Derek Walcott, a few other local dignitaries, guests, and, after several glances towards Karen, Dani and I (Matt stayed on the boat), who were sitting very prominently in the front, in seats that turned out to be reserved for later performers, wearing bathing suits and "muscle" shirts, he finally nodded to us and welcomed "other guests". There were seats for about 200 but only 50-60 showed up so we felt like we were helping.

A group of very old men who turned out to be an impressive Zydeko band slowly assembled exactly where we were sitting so we moved back to the perimeter from where we watched the rest of the show. Young, militant black poets complained about their oppression at the hands of the white man. We clapped politely. The Caribbean chapter of "Up With People" came out in fancy red and white dresses and dress pants and shirts (for the men) and danced in stilted British fashion to the Zydeko music. A rastafarian Congo drum player spit vitriol at us. A group of Indians from the mountains sang in Creol and acted out an outrageous caricature of the British king and queen with attendants and British bobby police dancing around like the Village People. Then some more 25 year old poets who are still really pissed off about slavery. Weird day.

Tomorrow we may leave on another 2:00AM 100-mile trek to Caricou, the northern most island of Grenada. If we leave it will be to hook up with Ken and Janet on AQUILLA to send them off on their trip to the Panama Canal and then around the world. If we don't leave it will be because we decided to blow them off and take our time getting down there. You will have to wait for the next installment to find out.