Hiding behind Joséphine's Skirts

Arriving in Les Saintes

Early next morning and to re-establish our sea legs, the Cap’n set us up for a short sail across to the small but beautiful islands of Les Saintes.  The plan was to snuggle into a very popular anchorage off the pretty & popular village on Terre-de-Haut.  Of course, the wind and swell followed us in, so on we moved to the quieter Îlet à Cabrit.  This was where we’d last anchored with BW in 2008.  As the waters are rather deep, the authorities have now installed several moorings, allowing room for more boats.  Although at times it was just a wee bit too cosy, the upside was however, swinging over 53 feet of beautiful clean, clear water.  The rush was on to change into bathers and jump in!!  We’d had our last real swim back in Virgin Gorda, BVI.

Those chores never stop.  Finally using the Hookah unit.

Planning ahead for a slow upcoming leg, three nights at Îlet à Cabrit seemed a decent beginning.  Our kindly mooring supervisor assisted us to lift the mooring ball so it didn’t bang against the boat during the night.  Safely tucked in, we had minimum swell but the katabatics sure pumped over Fort Joséphine high above us, during the night.  Our fancy planning however, did not allow for a National Public Holiday.  We'd totally missed the fact that we had arrived for the 14^th July (Bastille Day).  Oh dear!  Loads of day trippers descended on on our quiet Îlet à Cabrit, some of whom must have also forgotten about the holiday too and neglected to bring their bathers!  

A very nearly wet dinghy ride across to Terre-de-Haut (careful driving by the Cap'n) meant we were able to walk the pretty village.  We briefly thought about taking the trail up to Fort Napoleon to admire the view but sitting in the shade was a better mid-day option.  Well, maybe next time!  

Terre-de-Haut has a very pretty village

If indeed there is one…some locals were not especially friendly.  Perhaps it was in the spirit of the holiday – “Vive la France!”  A group, clustered in shady spot and partaking of a drink or two, loudly advised GS to “Go back where you came from” (in English) and she wasn’t even eating cake.  Nice bit of PR work for an island dependent upon tourism, guys!  

Rally Round Guadeloupe

The Motley Crew stayed on anchor in Pointe-à-Pitre, using the time and internet availability to catch up on admin and complete yet more boat chores.  With the large Marina Bas-du-Fort close by, we were able to refill fridges, re-fuel, re-water, surf the net, pay bills and fix more broken boat bits.  No-one escapes from chores, no matter how exotic the location…

Reporting the Shipping News from our anchorage

As luck would have it, we also welcomed aboard our next visitor, Mr Lozza, who eventually made his Caribbean destination after catching enough flights that could have otherwise had him circumnavigating the world by air.  He needed rest and time to recoup too after leaving sub-zero temperatures for those 30+.  So, we quickly filled him in on the shipping news (the comings and goings of the largest Port in the Eastern Caribbean) and then threw him in a car for a few days tour round Guadeloupe. (A whirlwind rally... no pity spared!)

Are they working? Or just comparing fashionable shorts....

Guadeloupe is made up of two islands joined at the hip by the Rivière Salée, (salty river), a navigable mangrove creek that we thought might be fun to sail through until we discovered that the two bridges crossing it open once daily, and only at about 4 in the morning for an hour (maybe).  Hence the decision to hire a car.  We had planned on covering the windward island, Grande-Terre, first. 

However, with no Google maps (no phone) and only rough diagrams in French to guide us, we missed the turn and instead ended up scaling the mountainous and cloud attracting heights of Basse-Terre, the leeward island.  First stop through a large National Park was at the delightful Cascade aux Ecrevisses, were we sat in the car out of the drizzle and ate our picnic lunch (asparagus quiches and pain au chocolat no less!).  Then it was time to brave a short walk out to the picturesque falls before retreating to the car to continue our drive north to the town of Deshaies. (Death in Paradise Fans take note!  The French do not know anything about this very popular British series.)  Next stop was Sainte-Rose to visit a very interesting Rhum Museum and working sugar cane farm.  Aside from an historical overview of the sugar cane industry (and a rum tasting), the museum also dedicated rooms to collections of model sailing ships, Creole culture, and an impressive butterfly (and insect) display.  There was enough time for us to make a dash for the south of Basse-Terre, although the damp weather and thought of trekking on foot up the heights of La Grande Soufrière, an active volcano, did not enthuse us.  The drive along the eastern seaboard along a well-used roadway, saw us reach the now sadly neglected Mémorial Christophe Colomb at Capesterre-Belle-Eau, erected in 1916 to commemorate his landing at this site on 4^th November 1493.  We did not stop but took the opportunity then to turn back for Pointe-à-Pitre. 

We're obviously over-dressed for the occasion, Mr Lozza!

One for the DIP fans

And then we had to stop for a few refreshments...

The next day saw us heading out, in the pouring rain, for the flatter lands of Grande-Terre with its windswept coastal lookouts, long beaches and sugarcane fields dotted with windmill relics.  Somehow, we missed the turn-off yet again, crossed the Rivière Salée and looped round the airport to join the morning’s commuters heading for Les Abymes.  A little judicious off-roading and some flooded roads did not deter us from our quest - there were more quiches and pain au chocolat to devour.  (Oh my, just how do those French girls stay so skinny?)  Despite being overcast, we wanted a nice beach to sit on for our picnic and found a popular Plage du Souffleur near Port Louis.  Along with some rather too friendly no-see-ums.  

View over the Atlantic from Hell's Gate.
And another day not to be out on the water.

Continuing our clockwise route, we managed to get lost down narrow country roads, but found a well setup stables (for racing horses) near the village of Saint Jacques, before finally reaching the coast at the aptly named Porte d’Enfer (Hell’s Gate).  With violent currents and strong winds, the protected bathing area had become clogged with sargasso weed and was reeking.  No swimming today either, then!  Heading south through well-tended cane fields and small, tidy villages, GS was afforded a brief stop to take some scenic photos (the sun was finally out!); then onward through attractive coastal towns and resorts dotted along the south coast to circle back to Marina Bas-du-Fort.  The boys washed and cleaned the car while GS shopped for provisions.  As luck would have it, we had a great weather window the following day to make a break for Iles des Saints.

Sugar Mill ruins dot the cane farm landscape

Caribbean Two-Step

Simpson Bay Lagoon Bridge (an escape hatch)

On a very quiet Sunday morning in Pointe-à-Pitre in Guadeloupe, and with a ready source of wi-fi, it seems an appropriate time to write up our trip from St Martin.  Although we had great plans, this crazy summer weather put paid to all that.  Will those trades (winds) ever ease?  After our release from Simpson Bay Lagoon, first stop was back to Marigot Bay (French side) offering better protection to (hopefully) raise the main sail, bagged since Turks Caicos, back into its rightful position.

The following morning, an early rise gave us sufficiently settled conditions to achieve our task.  And was it so good to have that powerful main back in use!  (Lack of it, we realised, explained our feeble crossing effort from Turks Caicos! )  Hey ho!  And round the north side of St Martin we go – something we’ve not done before.  The north side is much drier and home to many beautiful sandy beaches and a jumble of seaside resorts.  The little island of Tintamarie looked like a parking lot.  It was Sunday after all and locals were certainly out & about in their boats.

Ile Fourchu ahead, Cap'n

Rounding St Martin to the north gave us a good heading on our planned stop at Ile Fourchue, a tiny private island and wildlife reserve with moorings.  The Cap’n had plans to snorkel over reefs and brush up his fish-speak.  It was not to be.  The bay was filled to the brim with vast catamarans.  Is it compulsory for all catamarans to be over 50 feet these days?  Miffed, we moved on to St Barts and settled in at the very protected but equally busy Anse de Colombier.  Here, the beach is clothing optional, so you’ll be pleased to know, that bino’s in hand, the Cap’n viewed and discussed the architecture of avant-garde cliff top dwellings with GS.  (Oh, sure!!)

Oh look, Mike Nelson's found St Barts!

We left with the birds early next morning for the longer trip to Nevis, where we’d planned to stay for a couple of days.  From St Barts we had a good run down but couldn’t maintain our course for the north side of St Kitts, so floated into the passage between St Kitts and Statia, marvelling at the green and pleasant fields surrounding the high peak of Mt Liamiuga, wearing as it regularly does, a quaint cloud cap with obvious Caribbean panache.  

Near St Kitt’s southern salt ponds, we made a brief stop at White House Bay, to check the weather.  We were expecting a nasty front with high winds, forecast for about Thursday-ish, and wanted to check on the system’s position in relation to our own.  A decision was quickly reached to skip Nevis and make for much better protection offered in Deshaies, Guadeloupe.   

Looking back at St Kitts

Accompanied by a family of Brown Noddy’s and pods of dolphins, sliding behind the islands wasn’t too much of a challenge, however by now, the seas were well up and rolling through the passages between them.  We were also obliged to stay clear of Montserrat as its volcanic state imposes an exclusion zone extending on land and off shore. This pushed us out into some mean seas.  Deshaies then “welcomed” us with a rather nasty front, offering squalls over 30kts.  After settling onto a mooring in the harbour and calming down with a shot of something sustaining, we both agreed that the conditions between Montserrat and Guadeloupe were very similar to the gale we experienced mid-Atlantic on the way to the Azores in 2011. 

Windjammer then remained on her mooring, strengthened with additional lines, to ride out this coming system.  Katabatic winds regularly rolled down the steep hills surrounding our little harbour hide-away, so if it wasn’t for the rolling swell, we would hardly have noticed any increased wind state when it did eventually strike.  Deshaies township itself was in “off season” mode so finding anything other than a rather nice pâtisserie open and rationed internet, we cut short our stay. Besides, we had no working knowledge of the French language and no euros.  (It should be noted here that the Marina manager and the Customs/Immigration official were both exceptionally friendly and very helpful.)

Deshaies under rain & cloud cover

On a bright sunny morning we slipped our (€25 a night - eek!) mooring and headed for Pointe-à-Pitre.  The seas were calm and turtles came out to play as we chugged our way south.  The island appeared green and very lush, plenty of cultivated farms sat amidst rugged peaks – all a picture, oh so tropical!  Carefully, we picked our way into the main harbour; a busy shipping port indeed and it seemed like half the cruising community were in town and on anchor.  The old mooring field has been moved and expanded, however the Cap’n considered it too exposed, so we snuggled in with “the regulars” in a spot just off the rather flash new Museum.  Now we really could talk architecture. 

Still, it was good to be safe and sound and much further south, as the end of June loomed closer and hurricane season swings in.  The old rhyme goes: June too soon, July stand by.  So, now we are seriously keeping out a weather eye. 

Modern Museum in Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe

A Pelikin Breeze Blows

Simpson Bay Lagoon anchorage

Here we sit, primed and ready at the start line for our next Caribbean leg; just waiting for the weather gods to get it together again. They’re playing up, as usual!  Who would also have thought that almost 4 weeks has vanished since we arrived here in Simpson Bay Lagoon!  Ahh, Hotel California - just served Island style.

The Cap’n has busied himself with plenty of boat chores, frequented chandleries all across the island, hunted down second-hand bargains and found willing technicians to fix WJ3’s more taxing problems.  We’ve found book exchanges, French patisseries, giant hardware stores and eaten our fill of curries at Lal’s.  We’ve also become avid listeners of the morning cruisers net on VHF Channel 10 run by long timers, Shrimpies.  

Cap'n thoroughly enjoying a fabric shop stopover with GS

Much has changed on the Lagoon since our last visit.  There’s a new bridge crossing it now (lit up in Mardi Gras style at night) and our anchorage is somewhat hemmed in, sitting as it does at the foot of tall island peaks, the end of the runway, and just off the casino strip.  That translates to serious jet engine noise, loud music pumping into the early hours and katabatics & gusts blowing us hardy cruisers round like we’re mere toys in a kiddie’s bath tub…  

One of the best things, apart from being lazy, has been finding cafes or bars for free wifi (and happy hour priced drinks).  We are still unravelling the mysteries of having internet access on board - no doubt easier but certainly not so much fun!  Every island seems to have its own suppliers, frequencies and/or towers.  Not all work out here in the lagoon.  We're told it has something to do with superyachts interference.  Hmmm...  How simple it was in the Med, when we thought that having to get a new Vodaphone chip in each country was such a cross to bear!  Who would have thought it all so difficult in this age of social media obsession.  

This patisserie comes with a protection racket. 
One of three iguanas who ganged up on us for a treat.

Our reverie has been disturbed once or twice since being here.  The first was news of a sailboat break in – electronics and goods stolen and the boat trashed during the owner’s absence ashore; and the other was the sight of a large catamaran dragging anchor, thankfully missing us, (and the rather low-key response to requests for assistance). 

Anyway, we’ve refuelled, re-watered, re-provisioned and the laundry’s done!  So, we must be ready to lever the anchor out of the mud and point our nose down island.  Next stop, Nevis and then on to Guadeloupe.  Here we hope to find our guest, Lozza, waiting to join the Motley Crew.

And found time for tea with the neighbours (on an 80 foot schooner)
Either the horizon line was off that day or the drinks were strong?  

Just Too Many Virgins

Christopher Columbus is said to have named the Virgin Islands in honour of St Ursula and some 11, 000 virgins, who in the 4th century took their own lives rather than submit to being ravaged by invading Huns.  It is without doubt that these islands are fabulous cruising grounds offering safe anchorages, pleasant sailing conditions, beautiful vistas, and clear turquoise waters.  Not to mention a beach bar or several at every stop where the status of virgins is no longer discussed.

At least some nice days to be had in the Virgins!

Having set off from Puerto Patillas (yes, again and at night), we found the sailing conditions on the east coast of PR varied and in parts quite challenging, so decided to make directly for Culebra, in the Spanish Virgins – only a shade over 57nm away.  Sadly, development has not really enhanced what was once a charming stop-over.  However, it still offers a safe harbour that we were (almost) easily able to negotiate for a pre-dawn entrance.  

We settled in for a few days of rest and recuperation at Dewey Harbour then considered a daylight (but still early) jaunt through the US Virgins and British Virgins to a holding anchorage off Virgin Gorda (the fat virgin) giving us a handy springboard for St Martin, some 80nm south and the start of the Leeward Island chain.  The scenery through the US Virgins was delightful, conditions kind, but we had no time to stop.  Our US tourist permits were nearly expired anyway.

WJ3 and her happy crew then tracked over ancient ground.  It was here, in the BVI, that we started our cruising life some 15 years ago.  Development is not rampant, or perhaps it is better planned, so the islands still have that tropical paradise feel.  Charter boats however, have upscaled to modern catamarans and mooring buoys (for a daily fee) populate most anchorages.  There are few quiet bays with only one or two boats in them, even now, in this off-season.

More clear waters in the BVI's

Although tempted to dally in the amazingly clear waters of Gorda Sound, strong winds had been forecast for days ahead, so we made a quick decision to use the current light conditions to make a dash for St Martin.  “Well, perhaps we’ll stop in the BVI next time!” said GS.  

And so it was that we arrived in Marigot Bay late that night, after yet another long day’s mostly motoring.  Here, perhaps we could get our mast and main sail seen to so that at least, in future, we might do a little less motoring!  We've made it to the Caribbean...yeah!  Did we happen to mention those wonderful French patisseries here?  

And finally, St Martin reveals itself the morning after a late arrival in Marigot Bay
Yes, were had thrown out the hook just a bit far off the anchorage area... 

Big Steps, Don’t Look Back!

Eventually we had to leave our little Puerto Real hidey-hole and make a move (anti-clockwise) along Puerto Rico’s windswept south coast where anchorages are plenty, though mostly behind protective coral islands and reefs.  You’ve just got to get into them!  The Trades, of course, were showing signs of settling into their regular routine here – a jolly decent easterly blowing madly during the day (on the nose) and nightly calms.  That translates to sailing (well perhaps motoring) in unknown waters – at night.  On local advice and to ensure a Thornless Path*, we decided to leave early but not necessarily hit all the stops; just to get the mileage done in big steps…    

We left Puerto Real at 3am, rounded Cape Rojo to meet more relaxed, but still existent winds and, using the night island lee, arrived at our destination, Ensenada, before 9am in calm waters.  We were surprised to find a rural village with a peaceful anchorage tucked in the mangroves and all to ourselves.  Now this may have had something to do with the imposing fertilizer factory in the large bay next over, but, as with Puerto Real, it was nice to be amongst locals.  Roosters crowed, dogs barked, builders hammered a damaged jetty (and could they talk - in Spanish!) and vehicles roared by, but we slept on.  Then, naturally, we stayed an extra day to recover, and to watch manatees, with their big whiskery noses, snuffling about in the mangroves.  Oh dear! We were quickly learning about slowing down “island time”.   

Ensenada was once a well-off sugar producing area 

Our next departure was set for a slightly earlier (after-dinner) slot.  It was dark when we glided by Gilligan’s Island, not seeing much at all.  “Well, perhaps next time!” said GS.  The weather gods were kind to us though and we had a reasonable motor so gave Ponce (PR’s second largest city) a miss and made for Salinas.  Rather than attempt the narrow channel into Salinas in the dark, we threw out the anchor amongst the mangroves and yet again, crashed for some shut-eye.  A few hours later, the Cap’n guided us into possibly the world’s most challenging fuel dock before we re-anchored out amongst abandoned hurricane hulks, long-term live-aboards and more shy manatees to recover.  At least our Cap’n found time to relax here with a little spot of snorkelling over coral.

Salinas Sunset

Our final stop before tackling the challenging east coast was Puerto Patillas, once a quiet fishing village, now a local beach destination with Mr Whippy, local bars & restaurants, families celebrating Mother’s Day and the usual Sunday crowd out for a good time.  WJ3 became the go-to rounding mark for “I-can-go-faster-than-you” jet ski hire patrons.  Whilst we enjoyed the exuberant spirit of this crowd, we soon decided enough was enough and it was time to make a break for the hopefully quieter Virgins.  Well, not before well-wishers came by to bid us a cheery Mother’s Day too!  

Ahh! The early morning calm before the (Mothers Day) Sunday picnic storm...

After the flat, shelf-like coastline of Puerto Rico’s north coast, it came as quite a surprise to see the rugged south and east coasts.  Travelling at night had not allowed us to fully take in the lush landscape of this mountainous island.  “Well, perhaps next time!” said GS.  

*Bruce Van Sant's, 2006 “The Gentleman’s Guide to Passages South”.  It's a bit of a cruiser's bible now....sadly no longer published.  

Pickled in Brine

Cap’n and Crew stayed on a few extra days at South Side Marina to clean up, replenish food stocks and fix broken boat bits.  With the help of dockside neighbours, Aleisha and Doug, also Hunter owners, the Cap’n managed to remove the cranky main sail stuck firmly in the mast housing and pack it away, ready for St Martin and the riggers.  

Initially, we had hatched a plan to take the wide and easy Ships Channel south, then after making a quick fuel stop at San Jose on the northern side of Puerto Rico, island hop the Virgins to reach St Martin.  A consultation with the weather gods indicated the folly of that choice, so we set off around the northern side of Turks & Caicos in calm weather.  Over the days, winds steadily increasing in strength, and naturally, found our nose.  We had thought this traditional route might offer us a more direct course for the Virgin Islands.  

Easy?  Well, not really!  We spent 5 days, always with wind head on, bashing and crashing our way south east.  Then fuel became an issue.  At the weather’s worst, the engine cut out (fuel starved rather than empty tanks we later concluded) so we put out additional sail and adjusted our course back to San Juan.  Even that became a challenge given a night arrival, a busy harbour and our unknown fuel tank capacity.  So, we changed course yet again, put up more sail and ran downwind in the island’s calm night lee making for a protected Puerto Real on PR’s west coast.  Fingers crossed that the Mona Passage did not live up to its lively reputation and cause us further grief!  

After much effort, 5 testing days sailing and lots & lots of tacking, we made a sheltered, mangrove lined bay of Puerto Real.  What a relief!  With clothes and hair stiff with salt, we recalled learning at school that Admiral Lord Nelson’s body was shipped home in 1805, preserved in a barrel of brandy.  Instead, we have inadvertently gone for the cheaper pickling option – salt.  From our Med days, we recalled bacalao, a famously salt preserved fish that adds an adventurous aroma to Spanish markets.  After 5 days at sea, we were very salty and smelly too!  We threw out the hook, washed off our salt encrusted selves and then ate the best meal we’d had in days.  A medicinal rum (not brandy) aided a sound sleep.

There are other forms of helpful medication available too!

Next morning, our trusty Cap’n sussed out the nearby marina fuel dock and on meeting welcoming staff and friendly fellow boaters, booked us in 5 days.  The best health retreat we could imagine!  So here we sit, plotting our coming course through the Spanish and British Virgins; all in all, it will take much longer than we planned to get to St Martin.  Still, we are now officially on (Caribbean) island time, mon. Caramba!

Catch of the Day at Puerto Real