Islands of Saints

After a relatively benign trip from St Martin, we have finally arrived in Guadeloupe….well Iles des Saintes to be exact.  When we first planned the route, we had planned on making our first stop in Deshaies, which is the first anchorage on the northwest coast of Guadeloupe. Since we hadn't anticipated that Moitessier would make such good timing during this passage, we ended up deciding last minute that we would skip Deshaies and move on to the anchorage in Basse-Terre, off of Marina de Riviere Sens (the next port for clearing in).  Originally we had planned on making landfall in Deshaies the following morning, but with the winds in our favor, MoMo was cruising at a nice average speed of  about 7 kts, making our would-be arrival in the middle of the night, which we all know is not something we ever want to do. And so we trudged on, moving further down the coast to make some headway, as we are currently already a little behind schedule (when are we not?).  Upon arrival the following morning at Basse-Terre, we noticed that the "anchorage" was essentially a tiny sliver of shallower water off of the side of the island very very close to shore, with the depths dropping from 65' to 165' in a matter of 2-3 hundred feet.  And so, once again, we decided to sail a couple more miles south to Iles des Saintes, meaning Islands of Saints in french and, boy, does it live up to its name.  

Sailing into this set of Guadeloupe owned islands was such a lovely surprise after the stressful debacle of a morning we had with deciding last minute where to go. We hadn't done any research and  didn't know what the deal was with all the mooring balls dotting the shore where the charts had labelled "anchorage," and so we tucked into Marigot Bay as this happens to be the only place  around with reasonable water depths that you can anchor in. After dinghying it in to the town of Terre de Haut and checking in, we discovered that it would cost us 11 Euros a night stay on the mooring balls, or 60 euros for a week, which we justified as reasonable considering the mere 2 euro check-in fee into Guadeloupe.  We also decided to take a mooring as our anchorage, though sheltered in settled weather, was starting to become unsafe with building winds clocking around and bringing in huge swells.  We ended up staying and relaxing in this lovely town for over a week, awaiting a tropical wave to pass before moving on.  We didn't do much but deal with some repairs on the boat (i.e. rewiring the SSB antenna, re-mounting our exhaust hose that had snapped loose, repairing an issue that had popped up in our steering, and so on…).  We revelled in the homeyness and the "Europeness" that this little town exude, and I swear it felt like I was walking around some small town in Europe somewhere, with its delightful colorful houses, once again set upon a lush island backdrop.  Though there isn't too much to do but just enjoy the beauty of this little set of islands, Frank and I thoroughly enjoyed taking it easy and just getting into the groove of the small island community here.  There is a sleepy Sunday feel to being here, and as brief of a stay we had here, we quickly fell into a routine of walking into town, getting some gelato, some baguette and cheese,  buying groceries, and simply marveling the quaintness of this place.  My words are not doing it justice, so I'll just stop right here and hope that my photos can portray just a little of what I'm going on about…

Underway….

That's St Eustatius behind me

Approaching Guadeloupe

Entering the Islands of Saints

Marigot Bay, where we anchored while it was sheltered

On a mooring ball...

Town of Terre de Haut

Church in the center of town

I've never seen this flower before

Goats everywhere…not sure if you can see in the photo

Hiking to the top

Fort Napoleon at the top...

St. Martin (Part 2)

After spending 2 weeks in St Martin, we are finally underway to Guadeloupe.  After Frank recovered from his back injury, we decided that we needed to spend some time on the island and explore it a bit since this, for some reason, this was an island that Frank had on his priority list   We spent the first couple days of his recovery dingying around and checking out the dutch side as well as Maho Bay, a bay renown for the airplanes that land and take off directly over the beach.  After a slightly rough dinghy ride out through the windward side, we dropped anchor directly off the beach and watched as plane after plane landed so close that it felt like you could reach up and touch the belly of each Boeing. It was pretty entertaining watching the tourists that were standing too close to the fenced in airstrip go flying, losing their hats and random articles of clothing, as a plane took off.  This area is marked with signs warning you in both French and English and funny graphics against standing too close as the jet blast (from when the plane revs up to take off) was pretty strong, but people wherever they may be from, are often too curious for their own good.  

Maho Bay

On a last minute whim, after heeding some advice from cruising buddies on La Vidorra, that  we randomly ran into (we had met and last seen them back in the Turks & Caicos), we had decided to make a day stop at Saba before moving on to St Kitts, as he had said that this little island was an absolute must see.  Going out in projected 1 meter seas and 10 kt winds, we discovered underway that the forecast was not as predicted at all with the waves building up to 6-8 feet and winds picking up to 25 knots.  This would've been ok with us if we had a protected anchorage in Saba to hole up in for the next couple of days as the predicted forecast for that week called for 25-30 kts, but knowing that Saba did not have any such thing and that essentially we'd just be anchoring up on the side of the island, we decided it was a bad idea to continue on. We made the decision to turn around because we had not allotted for enough daylight hours to skip on to St Kitts, and that day was really the only window in the foreseeable forecast to make way.  Stupid, stupid.  We realized it was really our own fault as we foolishly ignored our guts that morning when we were preparing the boat to leave.  One thing after another kept going wrong, between me injuring my finger while opening a cabinet and Frank noticing that the base of our dinghy davit was coming loose from a stripped screw, we realized that should've just stay put.  (Note: we later discover that the davit dilemma to be a manufacturer's flaw as they didn't design it so that it could be through bolted and instead took a shortcut and used machine screws screwed only into the wooden cap rail instead of our fiberglass decks….completely faulty for this application.)   I often notice that we get into trouble when we ignore our instincts.  For one reason or another, something always goes wrong when we ignore the signs that Poseidon subtly and tactfully doles out to us.   That morning neither Frank nor I had mentioned to the other how we were feeling about the trip, which was apprehensive and anxious, because we just wanted to make way and move on.  Though we have faced rougher weather, our hearts kept telling us that something was wrong and so midway to Saba, while shit was flying all over the boat, we quickly decided to just call it and turn Moitessier around. 

I'm not sure if there is a scientific explanation for this phenomenon, where your bestial instincts always turn out to be right, but Frank and I have learned through the years that it's best to listen to them.  Early on, even before we bought Moitessier, Frank and I had made a pact that if ever one of us gets "bad feeling" about something, that we renege on the projected plan, no questions asked.  This has gotten us out of trouble many a time, when for example, in the Bahamas after being stuck in Staniel Cay for weeks, we were supposed to leave with a steady weather window, and at the very last minute, one of us has had a bad feeling and ditched the plan (even though, at the time we were buddy boating with Sailboat Furminger.)  We come to find out later (after they had left bc their friend had to catch a flight home) that the weather picked up quite a bit and the seas had gotten so bad that all the crew members were hurling all over the place, on top of blowing out their headsail, thereby making it so that they could only make way at 3 knots and forcing them to enter the Elizabeth Channel well into the night, with no way of visually navigating.    This pact even applies to when we go spearfishing and one of us has a feeling that we need to get out of the water, and shortly after hoisting ourselves into the dinghy will we often see an aggressive looking shark lurking around the corner.  Though we've never had any iife saving close calls that we know of, these examples have taught us that there doesn't always need to be a logical explanation for why things happen the way they do.  After all, we are doing this for our enjoyment, and at the very least, it has saved us from a fair amount of discomfort and possible repairs.  

And so, after deciding that we were gonna be stuck for a week because we lost our weather window, we decided to make the most of it and rent a car for 2 days to do some major car hiking.  We found a place called Discount Car Rental, a small mom-and-pop rental place that had the nicest French couple,  that picked us up directly from the dinghy dock.  At a nominal price of $30/day (with a 2-day minimum), we were able see the entire island, as well as run some much needed errands.  St Martin/Sint Maarten proved to be a charming island, with an interesting and diverse culture, not fully tainted by western society.  Locals are incredibly friendly, and seem welcoming of us, and though you could clearly see its French and Dutch influences, with many things seeming to be subsidized by each country (at least from what we saw on the French side), there still seems to be a strong West Indies island culture intact.   This was an amazing juxtaposition as it feels like someone uprooted a European city and simply dropped it onto this mountainous tropical island, much like one of those arcade games where the giant claw reaches down and plucks your stuffed animal of choice before releasing it down the chute.  With its colorful little buildings dotting the streets so reminiscient of old Europe staged on a backdrop of turquoise waters, coconut palms, and oversized iguanas, you couldn't help but to admire the unique sensibility developed here.   On one corner, you could have a Parisian style bakery scenting the air with fresh baked baguettes still warm from the oven and buttery croissants oozing melted chocolate, whilst simultaneously only a skip away, you could have a hole in wall little shack offering Caribbean staples like deep fried Johnny cakes stuffed with flaky salt fish, homemade hot sauce that could eradicate your taste buds, and rich oxtail stew with chunky potatoes and soft, fluffy dumplings. All in all, with that being said, there are far worse places to be "stuck in"…I guess Saba will just have to wait.  

Dinghy riding around 

I have been diving with this fish for so long and had
no idea it was edible….yummy

The quaint town of Marigot...

Car hikes...

Charlotte Amalie, St Thomas

When we first arrived in Charlotte Amalie and went ashore, we were horrified over the touristy strip of Rolex vendors and pushy high end jewelers trying to entice us into their stores.   This little part of town caters to the cruise ship crowds, and apparently since St Thomas is duty-free, things like fine jewelry, Rolexes, useless high end crap, cigarettes, and alcohol are nearly half off.  So imagine our dismay when the first impression we have of this place is of people coming from every direction trying to talk us out of our money and sell us things.  That coupled with the thousands of people herding around the streets from the daily cruise ship drop off, oblivious to their surroundings and bumping into you, and the drivers yelling "Taxi? Taxi?" every half a block, it nearly sent us into a manic I-don't-wanna-be-here frenzy.  But after getting off this main strip and exploring some of the backstreets, you discover just how enchanting this little city actually is.  For some reason, tourists don't seem to venture past the busy touristy neighborhood and stay within the "safe" parameters of the stores, and so in just a few short blocks, you start to enter the locals territory.  Small little shacks selling inexpensive local cuisine, like salt fish "pates" and stewed meats with beans and rice.  Houses are painted in bright colors, with the paint peeling and faded out by the sun,  creating a dreamlike dilapidated pastel facade throughout the city that is set upon lush green mountains.  It's very "hilly" and you find yourself exhausted while trekking up each street.  The anchorage at night is my favorite as Charlotte Amalie twinkles like fireflies in the summertime, reflecting off of the water, looking like a sky full of orange stars.  Walking around town, you get a feel of what it was like before it became a cruise ship mecca.  

I sense a bit of contempt from the locals towards the tourists, as people would often ignore Frank and I and disregard our very existence, avoiding eye contact, or any interaction (except when they're hollering at us to take their taxi, of course).  I don't really blame them since I can understand how there is an obvious cultural divide between the sheep-like, capitalistic, buy-buy-buy cruise-ship crowd versus the poorer, yet simpler living islanders.  I find that there always seems to be contention when you artificially place people of extreme opposing economic/financial backgrounds together in the same place.   Though you could argue that there shouldn't be any animosity because since tourism is the only industry here, and their economy is strongly buoyed by the tourists that spend their money.  A Catch- 22, I suppose.  One way or another, I was very pleasantly surprised by how much I really love it here. 

I guess it's been a while since Frank and I have access to things while simultaneously being semi-immersed in a culture.   It's an interesting juxtaposition of being surrounded by an unreachable culture, with its pigeon English (I often can't understand what a local is saying because of their heavy accents), and also being someplace that is so westernized.  Kmart is a walking distance away from the dinghy dock at Yacht Haven Grande,  laundry is inexpensive and easily accessible through the Crown Bay Marina, McDonald's is right around the corner, there's even take out Chinese food. Some markets are stocked with familiar treats such as Sour Patch kids, Smartfoods popcorn, smoked gouda and even Shitake mushrooms, yum.   We're even able to get things shipped in using a mailing service (Mailstop), for a nominal price, as the USPS considers St Thomas american territory (we received a package from Florida in 3 days).   It also helps that getting from one side of the island to the other is a mere safari bus ride away.  For $2, you can basically take an open air "safari bus" from here to Red Hook, which is at the eastern point of the island and about a 1/2 an hour by car, which is a little slower paced and less touristy.   You pick up these buses at any point in their route, and press a doorbell-like button when you want to get off.   What a luxury it is to have things so readily available while surrounded by pretty blue water.    

I love this uphill house

Gee Frank, don't be so thrilled about the cruise ships...

Bye bye cruise ship...

Fireflies...