Cruising the Grenadines, not

Tuesday Feb 17 Pick up Jordy

I can't believe a week has passed since arriving in Rodney Bay. We did laundry and stocked up for ten days with my son, 21 year old Jordan, arriving from Halifax to Vieux Fort on Feb 17 to join the Artist and I for a trip through the Grenadines. It is rather all consuming, fretting about how to comunicate, to get transport arranged to pick him up and deliver him to Soufriere, further down the coast and then to arrive comfortably in advance of his arrival and find a decent mooring to hold onto.

In the event, all went very smoothly, if exhaustingly. After a full power race into Jalousie, between the Pitons, between Django and two other mooring aspirants to pick up the last available mooring, we were ensconced in the stunning setting a full day in advance of hs arrival, We were still 2 miles away from the dock at Soufriere and the last arrangement to fall into place was transport into the town dock and back. We met Michel who picked up the mooring for us and promised to be boatside at 3 pm the next day to ferry us in. How much? What you think is right, man, he said. Sounded good to me. Still I fretted. The cell phone remained on all day and, sure enough, fifteen minutes after scheduled landing of the aircraft at Vieux Fort, the cell phone came to life with Jordan needing the name of the boat and where we were, to get past the naturally inquisitive immigration official at the airport. So he had made it this far. Notable relief.

Still I fretted that Michel would forget, or get a better job, or whatever would result in his not arriving, so I launched Boffo, got the engine aboard and loaded her essential gear. Unlike KMH, the Artist feels no need to participate in the tribulations involved in launching Boffo, so I am able to practice the solo approach to the problem over and again, perfecting my engine lob into the water and my mighty heave getting it back aboard all by myself.

At exactly three minutes before three, our agreed rendezvous, Michel rounded the Petit Piton and came alongside. A and I boarded, ships papers carefully stowed in my napsack for the clearance out of St Lucia, and we headed off to Soufriere to pick up Jordan. I figured we would be early, but as we approached the dock, there he was, getting out of the taxi. Lambert, the driver I had set up, was not there. His father had died suddenly. No wonder I fretted. But his cousin filled in and there was Jordan, broken hand all bandaged up, but otherwise ready to go. With his passport in hand, I was ready to run the gauntlet of customs and immigration clearance to permit us to leave St. Lucia for St. Vincent and the Grenadines.

Customs was a breeze, then off to the police station for immigration. The man was out, so we hung about waiting. After a while of this we went off to buy a cabbage and some carrots and bread. Checking again, no man. So then we went for a beer and Jordan had a fruit salad. In the middle of this eating anf drinking my fretful feelings retturned and I went back and found that although in, there was now a line up to see the man. So wait did I. It seemed like a very long time, In fact, it was probably longer than that. I made friends with the skipper of the 70 ft yacht moored next to us. A private yacht, pristine, with a very old man aboard, maybe the owner? The skipper says he has guests aboard about two weeks each month. He married the chef, but she is stuck in the US waiting out the Green Card mandatory stay. Finally, I was out of there and we were on our way out past the Petit Piton to our stunning resting spot between the Pitons. We had the first steak I have found in the Caribbean, barbequed nicely, the wind abating just for the occasion.

Next day I unhitched at 6:30 am and set out for Bequia, two islands down. The kids kept there beds until we cleared the lee of St. Lucia and were into the large seas of the St. Vincent Passage. They regretted not having risen early for a decent breakfast and were decidedly green through the morning. The wind was light, never over fifteen knots and abaft the beam, so not very fast for Django.

The passage to Beqia took a good nine and half hours, and Jordan and I were somewhat burnt by the end of it. Another gauntlet of officialdom to run on arrival. I was taken aback by the increase in fees to visit St. Vincent. I had to pay EC$275 for the three of us. To add insult to injury, the mooring fee seems to have skyrocketed as well. The harbour in Bequia is full. The recession seems to have passed over the boat people. There are more and more, and they seem happy to pay the hefty levies here. So this is not a recommended stop for those on a close budget. More later, I am ready for my bunk.

Break Break

This is coming to you from the relative sanctuary of Soufriere Bay, St. Lucia. The date is Feb 25, I believe. We have endured a full week of 30 knot winds and squalls. Bequia was lovely, we walked all about and, between rain showers, had a good time being together and exploring the island. We were stuck there for three days due to weather. Finally on Saturday, we determined to try to make Mustique, at least, our plan for a trip through the Grenadines in tatters. There was a 9 ft swell out of the North compounding the 25-30 ENE wind and big sea. We tucked down past the point outside Admiralty Bay, and back up under the lee of Isle au Quatre. Then out into the open sea for the 6 mile crossing to Mustique. Tumultuous seas! Very strong wind, but we were well reefed and Django responded with grace. Jordy steered, and although not a sailor, has a knack for getting the best out Django going to weather. His plaster half cast suffered a bit from the salt spray.

Mustique was a bust. The prices are through the roof. I was completely insulted to be asked to pay EC$42 (US$16) for a loaf of bread and three croissants. Our mooring was close to being untenable, we rocked and rolled and the dinghy crashed about. I couldn't get away fast enough. The only good news is that we missed the Harbour Master and were not priveleged to learn what they charge for the mooring fee.

So Sunday we made the run due North to Kingstown, barely skirting the wicked rocks on the NE tip of Bequia. Django was hard on the steady 30 knot wind and we motor sailed past the point to give us a bit more pointing ability. We gave Django yet another dousing of salt water. The seas past the point defy description, confused, steep and jagged. We managed to dislodge everything not bolted down. Catching up the dinghy painter in the prop on arrival behind Young Island crowned an eventful crossing.

Next day we explored Kingstown, cleared out at customs (another EC$35 fee) and immigration, bought a large (3 lb) tail of Dorado at the fish market for less than our loaf of bread in Mustique, and ate lunch in the lovely restaurant in the little hotel above Basil's Bar. This restaurant is great, not pricey but well presented and friendly, full of the local business lunch crowd. My advice to the cruiser world, avoid the Grenadines in high season.

I heard the weather report on the radio in a store in Kingstown. Small craft warning and heavy surge warning until Thursday. We need to leave Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest to get Jordie back to St Lucia for his flight home. The taxi driver at Young Island dock tells us we should leave at 4 am to catch the early calm. Chris Parker calls for 28-35 knots overnight dimishing to 20-25 during the day, with squall coverage diminishing later in the morning and returning more on Wednesday. We make Hobson's choice and opt for a Tuesday departure, 46 miles to Souffiere, St Lucia.

It rained through much of the night, and dawn brought a strong squall. I breakfasted as the wind calmed down, and by our 7 am departure, the wind was fairly light behind us. We made our way gently up the lee of St. Vincent under power, raising sail as we approached the north end of the island. We had 18-20 knots at a good angle as we approached the open sea, but a large squall obliterated our view of the situation outside. As the squall came down, we reduced sail in anticipation of 30 plus wind. When the wind and rain arrived, the wind spiked at 38 knots, all as we emerged into the open sea and encountered the 12-15 foot swell. Once the squall passed the wind settled down to a steady 30 knots and we slogged to as close to the wind as we could to make the NNE course into St. Lucia. This was as hard going as we had encountered so far.

Not to cow the reader with details of interminable struggle and dousings, we skip to 12 miles off St Lucia, inside the lee, making for land under power, the wind having mercifully disappeared, leaving a sea as mixed up as chopped egg, leaping and ducking, forming holes and towers, through which Django dipped and yawed toward Soufriere Bay, and our mooring by the Bat Cave.

Today we will walk again, if the rain lets up, up to the souffiere and around the botanical garden. Our water is down to the last cupful, so part of the day will be spent ferrying jerry jugs. Eddie, the boat boy, has offered to do it for us, but he has a knack for charging WAY TOO MUCH money, so his services will not be required. I think people coming down here must leave their brains at home, allowing these fellows to rinse their wallets clean.

Tomorrow, Jordy gets on his plane and Django will make her way back to Rodney Bay, free anchorage, free internet, good groceries, water, marine supply store. There are a number of repairs to do. As the wag pronounced, while your cruising in 30 knot winds, your boat is breaking.

It is a truism that while cruising, one can define either a time or a place to meet a cruising boat, but not both. Working to a set schedule results in having to sail in poor conditions. We have experienced this in spades.