June too soon… (Oh, sure!)

Always hoping to catch sight of the green flash as the sun goes down!! 
The view from our mooring in Grenada.

Firstly, and importantly, WJ3 Cap’n & both Crew are safe and sound in St Lucia.  We are nested in a web of mooring lines, secured to a very solid concrete marina berth, and surrounded by mangroves (and the odd water-front housing estate!).  Rodney Bay Marina is also on the far north of the island.  As luck would have it for us at least, Beryl wobbled south a bit leaving us to manage with just a few intense gusts and some rain.  Not so lucky for those islands south of us!

So, why are we here?  With June too soon and July stand by ringing in our ears, we set off for a cruise of the southern Windwards.  All in aid of a dive on Tobago Cays, a chance to visit more remote islands in the chain and some sunny, clean, calm anchorages.   Our rule of thumb however, was not to be further than 2 sailing days away from Trinidad.  That made Martinique, at a stretch, our northernmost limit. 

Having left Trinidad, we set course for Grenada, arriving after a brisk sail at the moorings off St Georges Harbour.  A vast marina, set up with visions of attracting flotillas of super yachts, now occupies a section of the harbour called the Frying Pan (due to its shape).  Still, the outer mooring area was fine and we were still able, without risking life or limb, to access a small supermarket deep in the Pan, to replenish supplies.

Our skitterish hitchhikers wouldn't pose for the Cap'n

Of course, halfway across to Grenada, we attracted some rather suspect hitchhikers and soon after were nearly collected by a determined freighter.  An eventful trip this time.

From Grenada, we moved on to Carriacou, anchoring in the protection of Tyrell Bay.  Here, we became aware of a couple of tropical waves (atmospheric depressions) moving across the Atlantic from Africa.  There was potential for them to develop into tropical storms so we decided to go further north, moving on to Bequia.  Bequia must be the quintessential Caribbean harbour.  Beautiful clear turquoise water, white sandy beaches, friendly locals and a neat, tidy town.  Except the two storms were growing larger!  So, the next morning we hot-footed it to St Lucia.  Yet another rocky ride in our progress north through the Windwards!

St Vincent - a garden island

Hatches, hatches crew!!  Downpour on the way...  St Vincent

At this point (28 June), it became apparent that we now had a sizeable hurricane on our heels.  Also, best advice was that Miss Beryl could wobble further south given conditions in the Caribbean.  An escape back to Trinidad therefore seemed unrealistic, so we decided to take our chances in St Lucia. With canvas and sails stripped down, everything strapped securely to the boat, provisioning complete and water tanks filled, here we are on Monday (1 Jul) crossing everything humanly possible and waiting our fate.  

At its closest, Beryl was about 112 miles (181 km) from us.  But she did wobble south.  The eye, with predicted maximum sustained winds near 130 mph (215 km/h) made a direct hit over Carriacou and tiny Petite Martinique wreaking havoc.  Barbados to the east, Grenada on its south flank and Bequia to its north, all fell into the line of fire too.  Our thoughts are with those whose lives have been so dramatically changed as a consequence.

Beryl is certainly a gal braking records!  She’s the earliest recorded in the season, quickly gained strength, intensified from a tropical depression to a Category 3 hurricane in 42 hours then became a Category 4 hurricane in 48 hours.  Now she’s heading for Jamaica as a Category 5!

(Back in 2010, Hurricane Earl (link) met us up in Maine.  We were only 90 miles away then and well hidden thanks to Maine's amazing landscape and robust trees!)

One very smart bird...

This great lump decided that WJ3 was the perfect observation post for spotting flying fish in our wake.  Its a breakfast of champions obviously.  Despite his webbed feet, he balanced very well indeed (better than us!!) and rode with us, standing lookout, for quite a distance.  Flying off as necessary, then coming back to wait in luxury.  Better than wasting energy flying!

Sargasso weed in great clumps off the coast of St Lucia. 
 It's at the point of being a small craft hazard in some places 

Very Spicy Indeed

Spectacular Costumes: 
All photos taken during Pretty Mas & The Parade of Bands

Spice Island Carnival was the order of the day, so we put on our glad rags and prepared ourselves mentally for this exuberant event.  Toes in the water, so as to speak, with our choice to attend the tamer option, Pretty Mas & Parade of the Bands. Well, we could only hope!   Our driver briefed us before releasing us into the chaos.  He tipped us to watch our belongings carefully, where to find the best viewpoints and tastiest local food.  He also gave us an event overview/history from a local perspective.  Mas, he said was not church mass but a masquerade and dated back to the times of slavery.  So armed with beginners luck,  it was a charge for the Tropicana Restaurant where at 4pm, some of yesterday's revellers were still recovering and trying to regroup for this next round! From Tropicana's elevated vantage point, judges preside over the parade to decide on winners, so we hoped for a good view and to be close to but not in, the action.  

Luckily, we spotted a wall, sheltered by a shady tree, to sit on, then waited – even island time slows down for Mas.  Eventually, stragglers from the previous day’s events filled the streets and before too long, a Chinese Dragon heralded the start of this hedonistic parade.  Lots of music, feathers, sequins, flesh and alcohol. 

Carnival is not a brief affair; it lingers, happily over many, many months.  Lots of fetes (fay-tays) or partying, drinking locally made beer & rum, making (LOUD) music, liming (more partying) and having fun.  Some of the events we had already missed were the Panorama (steel pan bands performing competitively), Dimanche Gras (Soca & Calypso competitions) and Canboulay (local celebrations).  We visitors had the option to attend one or all of Spicemas’s main events.  One was enough for us.  The main Spicemas program included:

J’ouvert Morning. Day 1.  Starting around 3am, this morning parade offers lashings of oil, paint, chocolate, molasses, alcohol and sequins whilst dancing to some head-splitting Caribbean music.  Huge boom boxes on the back of semi-trailers belt out the local SoCa vibe.  Revellers in sparse but elaborate costumes, make dance moves your mother would not approve.  Locals call this event Jab Jab.  Jab Mas has its roots in pagan traditions and is about playing the devil and mocking fancy costume parties (Mardi Gras) attended by elites back in the days of slavery.  Today, the parade is a contest of bands and their exotically dressed (to a theme) followers.  The most popular in the parade are the theatrical jab jabs who coat themselves in motor oil (don’t forget to coat yourself in Vaseline first!), paint their tongue red, wear a horned helmet and perhaps, for an added touch of bizarre, decorate with a bleeding animal tongue or whole octopus.

Night Mas.  Day 1.  A Street Party follows J’ouvert (obviously to assist with recovery) with the same loud SoCa (Soul Calypso) music and a show of flashing lights.  Apparently, it gets going about 9pm.  Still lots more oil, coloured powder, alcohol and partying. 

Pretty Mas & Parade of the Bands.  Day 2.  Starting at 4pm in the cooler evening, Pretty Mas features bands and exotic costumes, wild colours, and even wilder dance moves.  The parade loops along the main road that follows the bend of the Carenage.  We had hoped to see a showing of steel drums too!  Blame the overcast weather?  So, sadly missed out.  

Rain threatened but didn’t eventuate.  Our ear drums will never be the same.  Also dance move called “twerking” might cause many grandmothers to faint.  It’s a wonder those scant costumes stayed in place.  It was a warm evening; drink was flowing and music pumping.  Pure bacchanalian.  

The next day, and as a form of "recuperative therapy", our Cap’n & Mr Lozza put their heads together to solve the riddle of WJ3’s diminishing power supply and a not-so-happy alternator.  Unable, between the three of us, to conjure any Gordian knot solutions, a miserable Cap’n decided that Trinidad was the place to be for repairs and maintenance.  We were up at the crack of dawn – it’s a long 80 nm trip (11 hours at the helm) – only to discover that the alternator was MIA.  Whoops…  Well, perhaps we'll leave tomorrow then?  We're in need of a spot of repair work!  

So, we fixed it (well, our amazing mechanic Mr Lozza did), and then, we prepped for yet another early start next morning.  And so, leave Grenada we did!  Just for a change, the weather gods took pity on us, and the Motley Crew left for destination Chaguaramas.  In excellent sailing conditions! 

Boom, Crash & Tropical Spice

St George's with Fort George in the distance
(That is not our maxi taxi - way too modern!)

Of all the Caribbean islands, Grenada seemed to be THE magnet for cruisers of every persuasion.  Bays and coves were crammed with boats, some unoccupied and some storm or hurricane tragedies.  Here too, it was apparent that the boat-de-jour is indeed a catamaran.  And a very large one at that.  Fair enough!  We’ve met many who live-aboard full time this year.  Cruisers are not so much old retired codgers like the Cap’n & GS anymore, but young couples and families.  Whatever the reason for taking up an appealing life under sail, there sure is plenty of floating homes with all the mod cons.  So, where to anchor amid the mayhem?  We tried Prickly Bay (lance-a-peen) on the south coast but moved on to Clarke Courts Bay (or Woburn Bay) where we snagged a nicely protected anchorage off Saba Cove.  From there, we were sheltered, away from popular spots and easily able to explore options for our day-to-day needs.  But first the basics – very cold beer and food!  Marina restaurant.  Tick – done… 

We anchored tucked well into comfortable Saba Cove. (Hog Island, right side on map).  Most prefer the better protected anchorage & its beach bar (Hog Island, left side on map).  Hog Island is connected to the mainland by a small bridge and you can see the marina & boatyard (top left).  Not to mention the vast numbers of sailboats at anchor.

This photo is taken from the hills to the north of the Island so the views are reversed! Either way, it was far busier than we saw it in 2008.

The Shade-Man, out of a nearby marina, ran a maxi taxi service to town twice a week allowing us to pick up yet more boat bits & groceries, enough to fill very empty food lockers.  One run to Grand Anse, full of resorts, long sweeping sandy beaches & the flattest part of the island, took us to a vast hardware (that sold Moet… Woohoo! Come on Bunnings, get with the program!!).  Next stops were a chandlery, a nice coffee shop and an impressive IGA.  The second run took us into St George’s to explore the fresh food markets.  We drove through a maze of narrow, steep streets, most lined with old colonial buildings, then zoomed through the historic Sendel Tunnel at the foot of Fort George, to arrive at the bustling CBD taxi stand and lively market areas.  Freshly caught fish (by someone else) for dinner then boys?  You bet!  Kingfish and salmon no less.  

St George’s is a picturesque harbour made up of two inner bays.  The Carenage is the business side, and a flat, calm Lagoon, dubbed the “Frying Pan”, the yachties side.  We anchored in the Pan in 2008, using the nearby Yacht Club as a base.  Well, times have changed; no anchoring now!  It’s filled to the brim with a large marina, developed with an eye to attract all those superyachts and their cashed-up owners and crews.  Even on the eve of Carnival, there was none to be seen.  Docks were lined with your average cruiser, not to mention all those fat cats. Do you think we should upgrade, mused the Cap’n whilst juggling loads of spare parts, brass fittings, paint tins and other essentials in hand.  GS did not answer, only glared.

Back in Woburn, we found Taffy’s Restaurant; sadly, not on a day when they serve a wholesome traditional Sunday Roast.  At least they were open on a public holiday when our cupboard was bare.  We had a relaxing lunch and a few hours heads down to use their wi-fi.  We certainly felt starved of any connection to the wider world.  At that happy moment, GS’s computer chose to die, in a most spectacular way.  Back on board, Mr Lozza threw it into the (empty) sink, hoping the battery was not about to burst into flame.  (It didn’t!)

Grenada appears be a photo desert for now.  Hopefully more to follow...