English Harbour, Mucking About in Boats

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

There is nothing quite so much fun as mucking about in boats...

Arnold moved his Morgan Out Islander 41 over to the crane this morning to have his engine put back in. I noticed a lot of RIBs congregating around the boat, anchored near us since we moved closer in yesterday, pushing and pulling to move the boat over to the slipway.

Into Boffo I leapt, hoping to be of use, and found myself pushing a little here and moving an anchored boat out of the way there, but not really in the middle of the action. Arnold had all his old salt (fart) friends helping. I didn't realise she had no steering as well as no engine, so the whole operation was really quite interesting. We managed to avoid the boats anchored close by and headed off down the roadstead, towards the slipway dock. Boffo played safety.

As we approached the dock, the cry went up, 'There's a dinghy on the dock!', and finally the spare was required and off Boffo sped to remedy the dire situation. As we brought the Morgan in, she needed a really good push from the starboard quarter, and Boffo was able to muscle in on the situation for the docking maneuver. 'Push hard', came the cry from the helmsman, who had no helm to push, and Boffo pushed with great heart and soul.

Once safely tied up, I said goodbye to Arnold and promised help again later should he need to push the Morgan into the weeds for her summer layup. I enjoyed the thumbs up salutes as Boffo made her way proudly back to Django in time for beer o'clock and a delicious lunch of cold barbecued chicken. I saw them all later on, pushing and pulling off towards the mangroves, an easier job than getting her up against the dock. RIBs (Rubber Inflatable Boats), of which Boffo is a good example, make very good tugs and pushers, and there really is nothing more fun than mucking about in boats.

This afternoon, Alicia discovered that Ben has finally had the bun, has decamped, has said the final goodbye. She is very upset. The emotions aboard Django are sharp and grieving. I found guitar practice to be quite a different experience, the emotional weight pushing aside my normal reticence and fear of error. The music was sure and poignant. She regrets so much, sees the errors of her ways, but alas, it is too late, the bird has flown, the horse bolted, and no good to shut the barn door now. Tomorrow she leaves for the arduous two day journey to Bermuda. All of us aboard Django, Boffo, Lady and Tramp, and of course, myself, wish her well and pray for an early recovery of spirits. She has determined to be readmitted to the garden, with plans for her own plantings once ashore in that other world, Bermuda.

I will be on my own soon, and have plans of my own. Mostly cleaning, laundry, oil, ATF and cooling fluid replacement, as well as layup of the running rig and boats. I have a good idea for hauling up the kayaks underneath the netting forward, up close in to the mangroves where the hurricane wind does not blow. Boffo will be strapped down on deck, I think.

Terry will be on hand to help when we bring Django into the weeds. I do prefer this to the waterless world of Spice Island Marina we experienced last year, not only because it will cost me a good deal less money, but because even if Antigua takes a direct hit, Django will be safe in the mangroves, and will have good care at a very reasonable cost. She is in so much better shape than she was a year ago, and I am on a slow roll of continual improvement.

The hatch seals and props are next.

English Harbour Again

Sunday, March 29, 2009

The trip back from Green Island was dead down wind, not much wind but a fairly big following sea built up from the strong wind of the previous night. We set the Genny and motor sailed down toward English Harbour.

Making about 5.5 - 6 knots, in not very deep water, fishing seemed a bit optimistic, but then, silly not to. We set the line from the reel hose clamped to Django's stern pulpit and paid little attention. Lo, the reel sang out. Not a large fish, a tunny or mackerel, about 2 lbs. Alicia poured the rum into its gills and I slit its gill connector to bleed it out. These fish are hot blooded, the flesh warm to the touch, and need to be dealt with immediately. The flesh is red, the blood liine dark, almost black. We decided on seviche (cebiche). The last time I had enjoyed this dish with tunny was aboard a small cruiser out of New York to Bermuda, with two frenchmen who did not speak much english. The dish was upended on a large wave, spilling into the bilge. Undaunted, mes amis recovered most of it and we had a wonderful dinner. This latest attempt was made immediatley after catching the dark fleshed beast, while the Designer watched out above. I couldn't remember the recipe, so made up a good one on the fly. We let it stew in the fridge till lunch the next day. It was really very good. Tunny is an unappetising fish, but done this way it is delightful.

English Harbour was just where we had left it, although my favourite spot had been taken. We are in Freeman's Bay, closer to the ocean. The water is clearer and there is a bit of movement, but it is still a very protected spot.

The Artist has decided to go back to Bermuda to deal with her broken relationship and set up the rest of her life. She leaves Wednesday. How fortunate we are to be in this protected space with friends who will look after Django while I am away in April. I just knew I would like Antigua. If KMH cannot come and share the last of the season with me, I will simply leave her for the summer early. So the next week is devoted to preparation for lay up. If we come back to sail for another month, its no big thing to put her back into sailing trim. If not, she's prepared for the hurricane season in the mangroves.

I have been rebedding hatches for the past two days, and sport a burned back of the neck to show for it. Hopefully this will deal with a couple of annoying leaks. There is one more to go. English Harbour has a good chandlery and a slipway, so all the necessary bits are available for most any repair, and they will lend out tools where Django's pretty extensive inventory is lacking.

I have fallen out of love with Django's Kiwi feathering props as well. They overload Django's 18 HP Volvo Penta D1-20 engines with the S130 saildrive transmission when she goes into reverse. It has taken quite a while to figure out this conundrum. I thought it was a transmission problem for a long while. Arnold recommended a local mechanic and had him on the phone within minutes. He appeared at the dock within no time and consulted on the problem, pointing to the propellers as the most likely cause of the trouble. He charged a very modest fee for his help and I set to work to learn more about the whirlers down under. Reading up on the Kiwi props revealed that overloading is a known issue in small engines. I am considering going to fixed 3 blade props instead. I will lose a bit a sailing speed but gain a sure power transfer both ahead and astern. Django often needs us to reduce sail because she gets going too fast for the sea conditions. I am willing to take the chance on slowing her down a bit with fixed blade props. So when we haul out in the fall, I will have some new props to install.

This afternoon A. and I walked up the trail in the park to the high point, One Cannon Battery. We had a great view of the anchorage, Montserrat to the SW and Guadeloupe distant to the South. Perhaps I can get some of the photos she took to load up tonight.

Green Island, Antigua

Thursday, March 26, 2009

My fingers are beginning to loosen up from the beating they took Sunday evening, hammering away on various drums at the jam session at H2O. I am not really a drummer, classical guitar is more my speed, but there were a number of drums sitting idle as the talented keyboardist and the lovely singer, backed up by the owner of the place on a drumset, a great sax guy sitting in and an englishman on bongos, ranged through all sorts of good music for the aging audience of yachties, and I had to give it a go. Into it I got, and found a large djembe to beat on. It made a big boom when hit in the middle ..

Rata tata Boom tata Boom tata Boom tata, Rata tata Boom ti Boom titty Boom.


The floor shook and the crowd got wild. Lots of sweat and sore hands.

A. and I decided to take a trip up to Green Island, on the East Coast of Antigua, where the anchorage is in behind a barrier reef. We anchored facing out across the expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, no breaks before Gibraltar.


On the way up we were passed by two very fancy yachts, one French, one British. Antigua has many more beautiful large yachts than the islands further south, some are great gorgeous classic yachts, all gleaming varnish and bright masts.

At the anchorage, the water was clear and shallow, we were parked not far from a a coral head, which I explored. There were a few healthy looking brains, but altogether the site was not very pretty. Most of it was dead. The artist worked hard on her projects and struggled with angst over her relationship crisis. Difficult to do much at this distance, so we swam in the clear water. On the beach, the super yachties were getting lessons in kite boarding.

Chris Parker missed the weather indicators a bit for our second night. The wind came up quite a lot, 20 plus at times. I had this nasty exposed feeling; although the barrier reef cut out the swell, it did nothing for the wind. I had visions of us dragging into the coral head close at hand. Not a lot of sleep was had by Django's fretting skipper.

Funny thing, most of the other boats left before we did. Perhaps they listen to a different forecaster. In any case, dawn brought a diminishing wind, but I was ready for a change of scene, something less prone to aggravation of my agoraphobic tendencies. The tight small spaces and green flat waters of English Harbour beckon.

English Harbour, Antigua (2)

Sunday, March 22, 2009

We have been settling in to this little enclave. It is a national park and tourists are let off their buses at the gate outside the Admiralty Inn, then make their way into the restored dockyard, now filled with boutiques and restaurants, a museum, bakery, sailloft and yacht charter operations. Inside the park, all is lovely and there are a lot of old English ex-patriot yachties, many of whom live here on their boats year round. We met Roger yesterday afternoon. He looks after boats, and I may have him take care of Django over the summer. The cost is my idea of right and, although Antigua expereince hurricanes with some regularity, English Harbour is still the safest place to be in the Caribbean. I would leave Django tied to the magroves with several anchors our astern. Roger would look in every day and make sure all is ok. His boat is parked next door to the boats he looks after. In the fall, I will haul out here and do the bottom. The more I think about it, the better I like the idea. Better than doing the 200 some odd miles back to Grendada and paying lots of money to be high and dry all summer. Django did not do all that well by it. I have just finally figured out why the starboard engine has not had a full bore of raw water cooling flowing through it. When she dried out in the summer, the shellfish life in her intake pipe died. On launch, the dead shells went up and partially blocked the heat exchanger, taking out a piece of the pump impeller on the way. You will remember I replaced the impeller in Le Marin, Martinique, on our way down to pick up Jordie. Well, it helped a bit, but still not really up to par, so I have been poking around in the cooling system, unhooking hoses, testing the flow at various points, thinking that the impeller bit had lodged somewhere, creating a blockage. I finally decided to take off the facing plate for the heat exchanger, undid the three bolts and started to wiggle it, trying fruitlessly to detach it from the engine. In the process of manhandling the beast, I discovered the there were shells in the pipe stub, lots of them. So out with the hemostat and tweezers and removed all sorts of corruption without having to remove the plate at all. No we have a good forceful bore driving out of the starboard exhaust. Alls well that ends well.

Roger is a member of the Tot Club, as is Arnold, who runs the little cafe with his wife (friend, companion??), Gay. You will remember they live aboard next door. Their relationship is unclear to me because thay have two boats, his and hers, rafted up together. Arnold is Canadian, Gay English. They have a plot of land in BC, where they go in the summer. Arnold needs to be in Canada for six months every year to preserve his various entitlements. Anyway, the Tot Club meets everyday at six, for a tot of rum. There are about 300 members, of which about 20 regularly show up to meetings. They do good deeds. They clear the trails in the park. If a member falls on hard times, they dig deep and bail him or her out. Arnold and Gay have been very helpful in getting to know the place and for introductions to useful people.

The bad news is that the new bolt picked up in Martinique will not be going into the starboard engine. This is a long and sad tale, and the Artist is patiently waiting for me to finish so we can go in to H2O for happy hour so she can show her sketches to a kindred spirit woman she met at the cafe, from England, who had an artistic business runnig for ten years until she sold up due to ill health. So the long sad tale will have to wait. Can you bear it?

English Harbour, Antigua

Thursday, March 19, 2008

Django pulled into English Harbour about 4:00 pm and did the tour of the twin inlets past Nelson's Dockyard, looking for the the most propitious spot to drop the hook for and extended stay. This is my kind of place. Mangroves line the shore, the water is calm and green, and there are all sorts of boat related enterprises all around. We picked a spot off Nelson's Dockyard, populated by some pretty funky looking vessels of various ages and conditions, many looking as if they have been here for a long time, and all looking inhabited.

I have been reading "A Shepherd's Life", by W.H. Hudson, written in 1910. One of the many depictions of country life in Wiltshire is a discussion of the gypsies. It occurs to me that Django is one of them, a nomad of the seas, a true vagabond and anarchist, crossing territories and boundaries without thought to national law or pride. The thought cheers me.

Here in English Harbour, there are many like Django, water rats, living cheap, and I like it. It reminds me so much of Mill Creek, in Bermuda, where I kept 'Weemelah', filled with boats in various stages of decay, the shore populated by squatters with horses and no paving, a decrepit boatyard at its head.


English Harbour is way more upscale, Nelson's Doockyard has some pretty high priced restaurants I intend to avoid. The port authority are in charge and charge a daily fee of about $8 EC to anchor here, less in summer when one can tie up to the mangoroves and hunker down for hurricane season. There is a great little cafe on the dock, sandwiches and pasties, run by our next door neighbours in the anchorage. We met within an hour of landing, and I think they will be a big help, especially for Alicia, who will stay alone on Django while I am away in Montreal for two weeks. Arnold has invited us over for a rum after five tomorrow.

The trip up was more or less as advertised. Today is the best day ever for making this passage, says Chris Parker. And it was pretty good. Fast and not too much sea, but every passage is hard and I am tired after the 8 hour day out on the ocean pitching and rolling around. Django is covered in salt again and not much rain in the forecast. We are down on provisions and have no bread after having passed through the wastelands of Guadeloupe and Martinique (I exagerate only a little).
Tomorrow is a day for exploration and reprovisioning. After that come some pretty interesting jobs on the starboard engine.

Oh Boy!

By the way, the photos have reappeared so I will post some with the previous entry.

Ire Ikes

Les Saintes, Guadeloupe

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

A. and I took a day off from our push North toward Antigua to explore this small group of islands off the South coast of Basse Terre, Guadeloupe. The islands form the rim of a collapsed volcano rsing out of the sea. It is quite dry and stark, seen from the sea. The approach from the South takes Django over a steep slope of the volcano, the bottom rising 1,000 feet in half a mile, causing lots of turbulence or bouleversement on the surface. Good thing Chris Parker got his sums wrong and we were in 15 knots of wind and not over 20 as predicted. We are in the little bay by Bourg des Saintes, a tiny town populated by Brittany fisherman in the 17th century. Today, its old small buildings are boutiques offering jewelry, art and clothes to the flocks of day tripper tourists who come in on the ferry, as well as to the cruisers anchored in the bay. Quaint, tiny little roads, and pedestrian only traffic on the main street make it a unique destination in the Caribbean. The Artist can scarcely be restrained, she wants to move here, buy a building and set up shop. It reminds me a bit of a Disney product, or a more laid back Croatia, although the urge to gouge mercilessly is not so apparant here.


The previous two days have been a hard push North. First Anse d'Arlet in Martinique to Roseau, Dominica; then Roseau to the Saintes yesterday. The weather cooperated reasonably despite Chris Parker's talk of "washing machine" conditions.

Guadeloupe is still torn by strike, with little progress being made. Tomorrow, the power will go off all day. Les Saintes is relatively unaffected, as no one here is interested, but there are few to no products in the grocery stores. The cruising world knows Les Saintes to be safe and so the bay is full. We had some difficulty finding a decent place to anchor and had to move three times, finally moving after dinner as we came perilously close to bumping up against a moored boat beside us. As soon as we got repositioned, the wind came up and we had a squally night of wind and rain. I am glad we decided to move before it started to blow, as it was we enjoyed reasonable peace through the night.

Unfortunately, we left the boat this morning with nearly dead batteries in the camera. A. took lots of photos anyway, but only succeeded in wiping out most of the past few days efforts. There we are then, no sense in crying over spilt milk. How about that stock market then?


The good news is we have moved into HotHotHotSpot internet territory and enjoy strong signals and a month subscription in most ports from Dominica on up to Antigua.

Tomorrow and Thursday are our window in the weather to Antigua. I am going now, so as not to be caught by weeks of adverse wind and sea for the last leg due North into Antigua through 42 miles of open sea. So we will move up to Deshaies on the Northwest coast of Basse Terre, then take the predicted East wind and calm sea on North.


The HotHotHotSpot in Deshaies is temporarily out of service (strike??) so we look forward to bringing you up to date once we arrive in English Harbour later in the week.

Le Marin, Martinique

Thursday, March 12, 2009

The boat next to us in Rodney Bay North, a 35' Fontaine Pajot Tobago cat, sports a Canadian flag, and her home port is St Johns NB, so I thought I would say hello and enquire after the haul out facilites in New Brunswick. They tell me there are none at all for cats. They purchased their boat in Martinique in 2004 and sailed her home to do a refit. It involved finding a makeshift trailer and a farmer with a tractor to haul her somewhere up the St John river.
On arrival in Canada they were greeted by the revenuers, who felt entitled to a 25% levy on the boat for coming into Canadian waters. They enjoyed the trip up through the inland waterway, but found she was wet inside all the way North from Cape Hatteras. Too much condensation in the colder waters. They took her North and went South again twice before swearing it off as a bad job. They took the Bermuda route and hated the run South again in November, way too cold.
So my thoughts of coming North this summer are in disarray. Grenada seems to be a better idea. My main concern is the six month limit I can stay out of the country without losing my health care coverage.

Anyway, we also discussed the situation in Martinique and the possible window to go north on the morrow. They were dubious, wind still supposed to have a lot of North in it; supposed to be light, I ventured. Now I have doubts about leaving for Martinique. Strike still on and the wind not ideal. The next window won't open until sometime next week. Its a bit disconcerting.

In the morning, the dawn brings very light wind from the SE. That's unexpected. I eye the fleet and fret, Alicia still in bed. Chris Parker comes on and says we should expect NE winds 14 knots. If we go right now, we might hang onto this SE wind for a few hours and get well on our way to Martinique before being headed. At that point, it will only blow 14 knts and we can motor in. I wake her up and we set off, leaving the customs man without a visit. Does he really care?

The wind holds well and we can make Le Marin in a tight reach. A squall nine miles from Martinique breaks the wind and we are left with the NE wind predicted, but not the 14 knots. Its blowing a steady 20 and more, so our motor in is a bit of a slog. Fortunately not far to go and we make Le Marin by 2:30 pm. Customs is closed, but my Volvo-Penta dealer has my replacement bolt for the starboard engine (its a stud, actually) ordered at great cost a month before. The job to install this stud will be really interesting, I am sure you will all want to hear about it in some detail. I need to be ensconced somewhere with reliable help close at hand should it go awry. That would be Antigua, I think.


This morning, I went in to clear and talked with the customs lady. The strike ends officially on Saturday morning. Stores are opening up, but the grocery stores have exhausted their supplies. The containers are sitting on the docks unopened and it will take a few weeks to clear the goods through the port into the stores. No cheese, no butter, none of the sausages and things from France we find attractive about Martinique. The baker is still baking baguettes and the fruit and vegetable markets are open for business. There is undoubtedly no wine to be had.

We have made a leg up on our journey to Antigua. The weather and the North swell block us from moving North beyond Martinique until Monday, so we will poke around Anse d'Arlets and Fort de France before moving up to St Pierre on Sunday, ready to dash for Dominica as soon as the swell goes down. All of next week is supposed to be good for North bound vessels, so we may keep moving all week. We will keep an eye on things and let you all know as the situation unfolds.
Meanwhile, the Designer has been hogging the computer, preparing her submission to her Indian manufacturer. The St. Lucia Computer World failed to install virus protection on the ship's main computer, although they spent a goodly amount of time trying and charged me withal, so we are limited to a single machine and she has been working hard on it all day. We remain internet free, though tantalisingly close to making a connection. So this will be posted at a cafe when next we venture ashore.

Bon courage mes amis, the determined will prevail.

Anse d'Arlet

Friday, March 13, 2009

Another gorgeous Friday the thirteenth. Isn't that something. We pottered around this morning, I into Le Marin to see if I could find out more about internet antennae for boats, Alicia doing her laundry. I received lots of directions to a small computer store which was rumoured to carry specialised gear for yachties, but despite a lot of walking up and down, no luck. I did find a grocery store open, a small chinese run establishment with a burnt out sign; they had a green pepper, which I bought, sesame oil, which we have had great difficulty finding and which the Artist requires as a staple food, and good cheap french wine. So the hike was worthwhile.

After a quick lunch we cleared decks for a foray in to the fuel dock for fuel and water. We gorged on the plentiful cheap water. Filled tanks and all the jerry jugs, then washed down the cockpit with lots and lots of fresh water. These spots are like hens teeth, and we made the most of it.

Sated and languid, we motored out of the bay and set sail for Pointe du Diamond, ten miles distant. The air was very clear, and the wind strong on our starboard quarter. At first only the genoa was needed to push us along at a steady 5.5 knots on a flat sea. Very pleasant with all hatches wide open. As we made distance from the protection of the eastern peninsula, the sea became bigger and the wind diminished a bit. We set the main and needed to pay a bit more attention. St Lucia was clear as a bell 22 miles to the South. As we rounded Pointe du Diamand, we could make out Dominica 50 miles distant to the NW. Its rare that the air is so clear.

Anse d'Arlet is set in the second bay up from Pointe du Diamand. We arrived at about 5:00 pm, anchored, reanchored, and after a swin to check the set of the anchor in the clear deep water, settled down to the business of rum and chips with the Artist's ad hoc salsa. We set the sunscreen curtains in the cockpit to cut the glare of the setting sun. They made little difference, but provide a sense of privacy and create an outdoor room in the cockpit which is a bit of fun. A small boat with three fishermen aboard came by to suggest we move down the anchorage a way because they are going to net the bay at 5:30 in the morning. We did, anchoring again.

Dinner was the Artist's latest creation, Pasta Anse d'Arlets (my bent for naming dishes by the geography involved); english translation, Pasta Ants on a Log (the Artists's reference to the raisins and celery in the dish).

I have taken a moment to update the the blog, not expecting an interent connection and, by gum, there's a real humdinger of a signal coming out of the Spot Coffee shop on the shore. Of course, there is no way to set up the login and password without a visit to the cafe. Too late for that now, perhaps in the morning.

Sayonara for now, it is getting to be bedtime.

Saturday, March 14, 2009.

We have been into the lovely little town of Anse d'Arlet and found the Cyber Base in a steel box prefab building next to the school. We buy 3 hours for 9 Euro. A and I climbed to the top of Bas Morne after a beer and a pizza pie. It is very steep and quite high, despite being "Bas".

Back aboard, I fire up the Aspire One and get going, only to find that the Cyber Base, although connected to Django is no longer connected to the world at large. Worse, I cannot get to the server to log off and preserve my time investment. Huff and puff! This is our modern society for you, all bombast and promise but very little substance. Well the connection comes and goes, leaving me feeling pressed to complete the most urgent tasks, communication with children, two of whom are in difficult situations.

I believe I can post now, lets give it a try...

Nope, false alarm. I think I am getting about 20% of what I have paid for, so annoying.

Rodney Bay North

Saturday, March 7, 2009

We are tucked up in the North end of the bay. The wind is cool and gusty out of the NNE, the swell curves in behind the point and tries to cast us up onto the beach. It comes in on our beam. We are fortunate to be on a cat. The monohulls are being thrown about, rolling through sixty degrees. Rodney Bay is no longer an attractive anchorage. All the boats have crowded up into this corner, hoping for a quieter time.

Last night was disturbed by rising wind and sea, down at the other end of the bay, my preferred hang out. The internet works down there. I was jolted up by the "runk rnk rnk" of anchor pulling loose from rock. We dragged a only bit, but clearly needed to rethink this position. What had been a quiet anchorage, protected by the shoreline, was now a lee shore with the wind whistling down the bay, kicking up a chop on top of the swell coming in from the Caribbean Sea.

Our intention yesterday was to bring aboard water and fuel and leave for Martinique. The wind was still ok for making western Martinique, but it was moving north and would trap us in that strike torn wasteland for up to a week. While the weather did for our plans to leave, we were still out of water, and I needed to tell customs about our changed plans, so in I went with Boffo to check out the situation before bringing Django alongside the fuel dock. Customs was packed with Martiniquais trying to get home before being shut out by the north wind, so that was postponed. The fuel dock still had no access to water and another long line of boats was waiting to fuel up, so I elected to fill up with jerry jugs from a standpipe in the boatyard, after paying for the mandatory minimum of 100 gallons.

The sun was hot and the standpipe slow. By lunch I had done two loads, or about 40 gallons. On my third trip in, the water had been turned off to the yard altogether. Lots of shrugs and mumbled references to this being St. Lucia and all.

We finally hooked up with water in the marina and completed the job. The customs office cleared out by 4:30 and the exhausted customs man told the exhausted me I could come back when we were ready to leave. In the evening, we fired up the barbeque and did for the loin of pork, marinated in soy sauce and ginger and skewered with garlic slivers, taking advantage of the last of the mild weather. Mashed pumpkin with butter and black pepper rounded out the feast.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Last night was much better, Django's motion easier and more comfortable. This morning the wind has veered more easterly, bringing the swell more astern. I have not managed an internet connection since moving across the bay and "Rainy Day", as well as being unhearable, does not transmit on Sundays. The earlier forecoasts showed the wind staying NNE until Tuesday at the earliest. The large storm south of Bermuda which is the cause of this mess may have dissipated earlier than expected. We live in hope. Later we will take the little Acer Aspire One laptop in to the "Jambe de Bois" and find out what's going on. We need a walk up the steep slopes of the park as well. The ship's aging Compaq Presario is in the shop being de-virused, and should be ready tomorrow. A and I took the bus to the Computer World shop half way between Rodney Bay and Castries on Friday, once we had determined that sailing was not in the cards for a while.

The Designer is making strides forward on the new collection. Its down to the detailed specs. She has been in contact with her man in India who will make up the samples. "Style Bermuda" has been onto her on Facebook, asking for a second interview. The editor will email her the questions.
I have done all the fixing and preparing and shopping, and now am devouring books and working on the guitar. I am interested by the rythm of life aboard Django, ruled by the weather, from busy and active to slow and restful, if somewhat disturbed by the moan of the wind and the roll of the swell. When the weather is poor, we tend to stay aboard with the boats all drawn up, in case we have to move in a hurry.

Having finished Margaret Atwood's "Moral Disorder", I am between books. Out with the guitar, then, and to work.

Break Break, Weather No Good

Thursday, March 5, 2009

I have managed to get a look at the weather on the internet. So much for not hearing "Rainy Day".

The wind is going North, starting tomorrow and getting worse Saturday through next week. We could make Martinique tomorrow, but then we would be stuck in a country with no services at all. For the geographically challenged, we want to go to the North. The wind coming from there makes it impossible. Not a good situation, so I think we will scrub for a week.

Then it will be a dash for Antigua. How fun!

Will keep you all advised. I know you are on the edge of your seats.

Rodney Bay

Thursday, March 5, 2009

The sun is setting and there is a curtain of rain on either side of Django, but clear up ahead, so our hatches are open as I enjoy a preprandial. The Artist has made some friends on the beach and is off with both kayaks, one in tow. Our preparations and renewals are complete. We have stocked up with food, including a lovely whole fresh pork loin I found in the supermarket today. There is a Cross designed trimaran in fornt of us, pulled in this afternoon, big and roomy with an acka to acka hard roof and a large wheel house centrally. Looks very comfortable. She is registered in the Turks and Caicos so I thought I would approach and ask after Tim Ainley, a multihull enthusiast whom we knew as children, who settle in the Turks and Caicos Islands. The owner and his wife are French, and have no connections to the Turks other than the boat registry. They warned me off Martinique. No food available, thugs roaming the streets of Fort de France looting and pillaging, not a place to spend any time. But I have an email from the Volvo dealer in Le Marin. She has the wickedly expensive bolt I ordered for the starboard engine. We need to move on in any case, headed for Antigua by the end off the month, whence I shall take a couple of weeks to go home and do taxes for Mum and ex-Dad, as well as my own. We are very well stocked, the only issue will be bread.

In the morning we will water up and top up the fuel with duty free stock only available once the boat is cleared out by customs. I did that this afternoon.

One of the highlights of this week was my discovery of Bruce Chatwin as a writer. I read "The Songlines", set as a travelogue in central Australia, and examining the nature of the aboriginal view of the world and creation through song. Bruce Chatwin seems to have an encyclopedic knowledge, and has shown some really original thought in the book. Very readable and fascinating. I will read his other works. There has been time for guitar and swimming as well. I like Rodney Bay.

The plan for post Antigua is taking shape. I think we will take the boat North this summer, first to Bermuda, than over to the East Coast, hopefully Canada to get past the problems which crop up if we stay out of the country for more than six months. I shall be looking for crew for the long passages to and from Bermuda if anyone is interested (Whit?). Alicia has arranged a position teaching for the summer in Bermuda, we will leave her off there before continuing North. I hve dreamed of bring Django into Bermuda to see old friends again.

Alicia has returned aboard with more horror stories about Guadeloupe. Rioting in the streets, say the rumours. I will have to check my internet news source. In any case we will head for Les Saintes, a small archipelago South of Martinique populated largely by descendants of Brittany fishermen, there being no plantation history on the islands. From there we will keep to the outports, avoiding Pointe a Pitre and the urban areas. After that its the longish crossing to Antigua.

Before we water up in the morning, we need to retrieve the second kayak, which the Artist has lent to her friends. They will meet at 8:00 to say goodbye. This perhaps a blessing, as she will get up at the same time as I do and we will be ready to go at a reasonable hour. The weather report has been difficult to hear, Chris Parker is on holiday in the Bahamas and a new guy out of North Carolina is filling in. His boat name is "Rainy Day". "Rainy Day, Rainy Day" bleat the cruisers trying to get his attention and not hearing his reply. "Relay, relay" call the ones who can.

The wi fi internet connection, which has served us so well in Rodney Bay, has given up the ghost. Where there were once several stations transmitting a signal, now there are none. It seems to be a problem at my end, which I have solved by shutting down the software driver and restarting it. "Woila", the stations all show up again, and we are connected.

Now for the post.

Boffo Does a Bunk, inter alia

Monday, March 2, 2009

La Jambe de Bois on a Sunday evening has great jazz. The artist and I, in anticipation of her birthday today, made our way across the Rodney Bay to dine at this very cool, artsy, fartsy little restuarant in the park. No good going in daylight as they will hit you for 13.50 each to enter the park. After 5:30, the park closes and the access is free. We had forgotten that Sunday was jazz night. The place was packed and we sat down to share a table with a local couple, she Jamaican, he St Lucian, who had spent 40 years in England in the hair dressing business and retired back to St. Lucia, quite well off, it seems. This was to be Alicia's birthday outing, one day premature, since we had little to eat aboard.

The group was young and hungry, full of energy, playing jazz classic's. Their mentor, music prof, was in the crowd and sat in for a few numbers. Really good.

So we enjoyed a very reasonably priced dinner, company and music, all ending about 10, and made for the dock to catch a ride back to Django in Boffo. Wouldn't you know it, Boffo had been out and about while we dined. She was no longer attached to her stainless wire lead, but was lying, shamefaced, further down the dock with her oars in the oarlocks. Now how had she managed to shed her leash, so painstakingly locked to the eyebolt running through her bow? Well now, don't you know that eye bolt turned out to be an eye nut! It had turned itself off the bolt and remained securely locked to the wire, while Boffo made her escape. Why she returned, I don't know, but there she was, tame and quiet, having had a bit of freedom to explore on her own.

Non the worse for her adventure, she happily rode us home to Django, across Rodney Bay.

Today was another day of maintenance. Top up all six batteries, using the mirror to spot the levels in the after batteries, newly installed in Grenada. This chore needs to be done once a month. I wonder why we never worry about this in our cars. The boat needs it regularly.

I met a couple from Canada who came by with some tax questions. I was able to help. They have been all over, living outside the country without a worry about health care and all that. They simply pay as they go, deducting their expenses from there meager income. He has not a lot of money, living on a pension, and pays little tax. Last year they took the boat to Europe. They like to summer in Venezuela, outside the hurricane box.

My prononcements about the strike in Martinique have been haunting me, so I spent some time this afternoon looking into the matter on the internet. Most of my knowledge heretofor was based on talking with other yachties and direct experience of the situation in Martinique. The press coverage reveals a more complicated story. The basic grievance goes back a long way. The elite in Martinique and Guadeloupe are descendants of the plantation owners, white and rich. They continue to own most of the means of production and all the large retail establishments. The grievance has a strong racial overtone. The strikers want a higher minimum wage for all and reduced prices for basic neccessities. The strike organisers are using very strong initimidation tactics, there are a lot of comments distancing the writers from the strikers, but there is strong sympathy for the basic idea that the blacks continue to live in a down trodden state, in a situation supported largely by the French state. The strike has spread from Guadeloupe to Martinique to Reunion and speculation has it that it will spread to the French Pacific islands as well.

My first impressions remain convincing, that these islands are receiving large gobs of state money, but this seems to be spent in a sense of appeasement for past wrongs, and the black Martiniquais have a very strong sense that they are entitled to it and more.

The bottom has been scrubbed. A good 45 minutes a day of hard work under water. Its pretty good exercise. We will go fast now, once we get the repaired sails out of the loft, hopefully tomorrow. That about does the maintenance, for now, and I have had time for a good bit of guitar work as well. Rodney Bay is pretty good. The grocery store has real steaks, not frozen, marbled and tasty. It must be the luxury condos around the bay that provide the demand, because this is the only place we have found in the Caribbean that has decent meat. Tonight, for her birthday party, the Designer and I enjoyed a lovely barbeque of steak, onion, whole garlic and green pepper, followed by a layered salad and carrot cake with not so bad, very cheap, Argentinian red wine. She is agitating to go ashore to hear the band as I write this. Been there and done that before and I am in no hurry to accomodate. Last time, I sustained serious injury.