English Harbour

Watermaking, inter alia.

Antigua is wet and rainy this morning, a blessing for this parched nation.

We hear tales of drought here, the reservoir will dry up by the end of the month. After spending three weeks in the frozen North, no sun in sight for weeks on end, the sun and warmth on our return Friday was a blessing. As we upped the anchors, we covered Django in grey sticky mud, so off to the fuel dock for water to fill the tanks and rinse her off. We did buy some beer as well, but not enough to justify the bill of EC$350, a staggering sum.

While away for Christmas, I looked into how to get my Pur Survivor 35 watermaker up and running. Watermakers have reverse osmosis membranes which must either be used every day, or be pickled in a growth inhibiting chemical, so as not to clog up with algal flora. Ours was in the pickled state when we bought the boat in Jan 2008. The note on the intake filter said she was put into storage on August 7, 2007. The watermaker has been low on my list of things I need to become an expert at, so it has remained much as we found it. A bit of reading on the Katadyn watermaker internet site revealed that Pur was taken over by Katadyn some years ago, that the maximum safe storage period for a membrane is twelve months, and that I would be able to order up spare parts and a new membrane, to be delivered in Montreal before we left for Antigua. So that's what we did.

The Pur 35 is squeezed into a small space beside the starbord water tank. I would take a picture for you, but we have left the camera behind in Montreal. This is a challenge for me, although not for K, who has been unable to reliably upload photos to her blog, and to whom the lack of a camera may be felt less keenly. I will have to make up with verbal accuity.

I was daunted by the apparant difficulty of accessing our Pur Survivor 35, but not enough to make me read the instructions which came with the membrane right away. Dicking around is always more fun. Anyway, the thing was done, the pre-filter drained, washed and reassembled, and the switch thrown; I watched the first product pee slowly out into a bottle as a test sample. I let the bottle fill several times to clear the pickle juice and flush the lines, then shut down and tasted the result. Pure clean salt water, so that didn't work. After the second try at disassembly of the membrane, I twigged that one of the O-rings on the new membrane assembly was damaged. Luckily, I had ordered the spare parts kit as well and found a suitable replacement. Now it works, and K and I are getting used to the low level heartbeat of the pump as it squeezes out a thimbleful of pure fresh water with each cycle.

English Harbour is full. We are squeezed in close to shore with an anchor set off the stern to keep us from swinging onto the rocks. Terry is always useful. He tells me he set a mooring in Freemans Bay, just the other side of the harbour entrance, under the lee of Shirley Heights, which has not been used for years. It is a Perkins 4-236 diesel engine, the very thing we had aboard Weemelah in Bermuda and plenty large enough to hold Django. He says we can use it if we can find it in 6 to 8 feet of water. That's another project, such fun. It would be good to have all set up and ready to go before Frisha and Whit arrive on Friday.

The price of oil has been dropping off; a very good thing, in my opinion, although I would like it to fall another few dollars, if it please the powers that be. Next week will tell. There is really no good reason for it to be so high. I have been reading "The Wayfinders, Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World" by Wade Davis, produced as a series of lectures and presented as the "2009 Massey Lectures" across Canada. Really good stuff!

Tuesday December 15, Guadeloupe South East Coast

So, I am a bit behind. We came up the coast of Dominica to Portsmouth and spent the night. As usual, we picked up one of the moorings in the North end of Prince Rupert Bay, managed by the guide association, for which we pay 26 EC (US10) per night. The moorings are in good shape, and

the guides patrol the area at night. Our feeling is we should support this operation and feed some cash into the local ecomonomy. Other cruisers are not of the same mind, and want to anchor for free, in the midst of the moorings, feeling there rights to free access to the ocean bottom are being violated by the placement of moorings in their anchorage. One such fellow, of the french persuasion, had placed his anchor almost directly upon the mooring to which we were directed by a rather irate guide, who cast several well chosen words in his direction as he passed up our lines through the loop on the mooring tether.

I realised we were being used as a pawn in this political gambit when said skipper arrived half an hour later to ask if we would move, as he was planning to leave shortly after sunset, and our boat lay directly on top of his anchor. Explaining that we had just finished paying for assisitance in our present placement, I gently reinforced the guide's position. The upshot was that the skipper of the offending yacht was reduced to fetching up our lines in the repositioning effort, which he managed with some difficulty.

As intended, we passed a quiet night before the sprint for Pointe a Pitre the next day. We were blessed with a decent wind direction and were able to have a pretty good sail in a fairly strong breeze.

Point a Pitre is the commercial and industrial heart of Guadeloupe. There is a large container port opposite the entrance to the large marina in the Lagon Bleu. We pulled up outside the marina entrance and dropped anchor in time to clear customs and find a grocery store. After a rum punch with the last of our Dominican rum, we went ashore for dinner at one of the many restaurants in the marina.


Our plan is to cruise up the south east coast, Le Gosier, Ste. Anne and St. Francois before rounding the souteastern tip of Guadeloupe and head NNW for English Harbour. The distances are not large, but the wind and sea are dead on the nose. Although very pretty, with swaying palms and lovely beaches, these towns are not of much interest. We travelled over the weekend, Le Gosier on Saturday, but we were anchored in the lee of the island and no shore leave opportunity, by Sunday in St. Anne, little was open ashore. Even in St. Francois on a Monday afternoon, everything was shut up tight. It is interesting that almost all commercial establishments along this coast, which is in the tourist center of Guadeloupe, close for two full days a week.

Tuesday we rose early for the bash down the remainder of the coast and thence up the windward side of Guadeloupe to Antigua. I had twice calculated the distances involved. The first time, I figured the distance at over 50 miles. The second time, I made an error and came up with only 30 miles from the southeast tip up to Antigua. We set off at about 8:00, anticipating reaching the turning point sometime after 9:30. The seas off the cape were treacherous, heaving and chaotic. Added to the East wind induced seas, which carromed off the rocky cliffs at the cape in a back chop, there was a large NE swell coming down out of the North Atlantic. By the time we had set sails and settled in to the broad reaching course, it was 10:00. Now video game we use for navigation had a bead on English Harbour and K annouced we were going to be late arriving. We were doing a respectable (and comfortable) 5.5 knots, which over 30 miles should get us in well before sunset. Only trouble was, the distance had grown back up to 50 miles.

Of course, there was a solution, involving a bit more carbon dioxide off gassing, but neccessary in the event. With 17 knots of wind and one engine, we pushed Django's speed to 7 knots, setting an ETA English Harbour of a little after 5 pm, all things remaining equal. Well 7 knots is not as comfortable a ride as 5.5 knots, but there you are. We pushed hard all day, and as we passed the North-east corner of Guadeloupe, wind and current moved against us. Still about 30 miles to go, so on went engine number two. I like our new props, they drive very well. At 2300 RPM with the current against us and less wind more abeam, we were able to maintain our VMG at 7 knots to within the last 7 miles of Antigua. In the end, a line of squalls forced a reduction of sail, and produced a radical wind shift against us. Heavy rain doused the boat nicely, but our wonderful progress was dented. In any case, we managed an entry into the Harbour 10 minutes before sunset, and the anchor was down and set within minutes after. It was a hard push, and Django's fastest passage over that sort of distance. Quite exhausting.

Thursday December 10, Carib Territory, Dominica

We left you hanging in Roseau, Dominica, after a harrowing night of thief chasing. On the day of our tour with Sea Cat, we bumped into three french cruisers coming into the dock. They, too, had been boarded in the night, but noticed the man before he had a chance to come below. After shrieks from the two women, the t'ief fled. It turns out they were looking to do a tour to the Carib Territory and the Emerald Pool, and had not yet set it up, so we all trouped up to Sea Cat's and shared the tour. GG (Gerald), his wife Coco and Clotilde, from La Rochelle in a 37' nondescript monohull. Gerald is 66. Clotilde is visting for a few weeks. GG and Coco had a larger boat before, 39', which they sailed from France out through Panama, across the Pacific, and sold eventually in New Caledonia. They had nothing but good things to say about their voyage through the South Sea islands and the people they met on boats and ashore. It all sounds like too much fun.

Sea Cat did his best to show us a good time, but he can't climb the trees to pick the oranges and grapefruits along the way. I filled in where I could and managed to shake loose a nice bag of lovely pink grapefruits. We visited some of his friends along the way, and sat with an old Carib indian and his wife while he slowly shelled roasted cacao nuts, one at a time, in preparation for making chocolate sticks. He also had coffee roasting over his wood fire, enough for perhaps a can of ground coffee.

The Caribs of Dominica are the last survivors of the group which dominated the Caribbean at the time the Europeans arrived at the end of the 15th cetury. They seem to have a thriving territory, including several small villages on the East coast near Castle Bruce. There seems not to be the depression and despair we see in the North amoung aboriginal people. Their basketry is lovely and can be found in many a Caribbean market or nick-nack shop. Every woman does her own baskets, there is no central workshop. In the old days, there was a law banning interracial marriages, but With time, the Caribs have mixed with the black population, especially around the edges of the territory. A recent candidate for chief proposed reinstating the marriage ban, but was not elected.

The emerald pool is beautiful and dark, at the foot of a high thin waterfall in the rain forest. It is a short hike from the car park, where Sea Cat rested his leg. Part of the trail is the remains of an old Carib path, laid with stones, like a tiny highway through the forest.

We had lunch, GG, Coco, Clotilde, K and I, in a creole restaurant set out over a precipitous drop overlooking the sea and a small village in the bay. I had salt fish stew with provisions and beer. GG and Coco continued with tales of the Pacific and the Panama canal. They had not intended to go across, but after helping two boats transit the canal, and waiting in vain for weeks for a weather window to sail North east for Florida, they decided to give it a go themselves.

We arrived back at Django as the sun set, having had a really good tour of another sector of Dominica.

Friday we set off for Portsmouth, and thence set sail for Pointe a Pitre in the nexus between Terre de Haut and Terre de Basse, in Guadeloupe.

Tuesday December 8, 2009, T'ief on de boat

Off Sea Cat's dock, Roseau, Dominica.

Last night I slept poorly, our water pump kept going off, signalling a poorly closed faucet or a leak somewhere in the system. Lots of rain and strange gurglings around the boat woke me about 2:00 am. The currents off the dock change with the tides. About 3:00 I heard a bump and looked out of the hatch to be sure we had not swung into one of the other moored boats, no, probably just Boffo bumping her engine against the hull. A few minutes later, I realised we had unwanted company. A shadow was in the cabin with us, where a shadow should not have been. I gave a loud growl, as fierce as could be

"Get out of here"

The shadow darted out with me in hot pursuit. He skipped out through the cockpit and over the stern, onto his surfboard, scattering the contents of K's belly bag all over the cabin. I saw him lying flat out on the board, but he had not unhooked his tether and was still attached to Django. He was very dark and slim, if clothed he was in black. Seizing the tether I made to drag him into the stern as hard as I could, scaring the poor bugger even more than he already was, so he bailed out and disappeared under the boat. I cast loose the board and pulled out one of Django's emergency air horns, the very loud variety, and let off with that for thirty seconds or so. Our neighbours awoke and we scanned the sea with flashlights trying to spot our wayward thief. The board drifted out to sea. After some fruitless searching we all went back to bed.

It turns out he swam ashore and ran down the stony beach. Sea Cat heard the alarm and was up in a trice. Seeing the fleeing man he called three of his mates and set off in pursuit, although slowly because he has broken his Achilles tendon and is in a delicate condition. Nevertheless, they searched the neighbourhood, cudgels in hand. The thief managed to escape, but Sea Cat was grateful for the alarm. He felt sure that they had very nearly nabbed the naughty nasty, and has enough information to help bring him to ground.

With our valuables well hidden in plain sight, the thief left emptyhanded. K and I got a lift from Sea Cat into the Roseau police station to make our report. That took rather a long time, starting at the police complaints desk, where the complainants stand at a 5" high counter peering up up at the raised constable behind. So once through the story there, we were ushered into the criminal investigations division and introduced to the sergeant, who was very sympathetic, hoping this unfortunate experience would not put us off Dominica for good, and wanting to know all about our travels, which K narrrated succintly. Finally, we were directed to the investigating officer, who took a long detailed statement beginning in Antigua two weeks before, and culminating in the attempted theft. I suspect, as do the police, that the thief was an indigent drug addict, trying to get casdh to feed his habit. I support the the idea of legalising all drugs and making sure addicts can get their supplies without resorting to preying on the rest of us.

By the time that was all done, it was beer o'clock and time to have a look around Roseau. A Carib beer and a couple of small quiches in the pastry shop set us up remarkably, and we proceeded to search out the provisions we required. Ice was the one thing we were not keen to hump back to Django, about a mile down the shore. As we strode out of town, who should appear but Sea Cat, who kindly offered a lift back, with a short detour to pick up three young daughters from school. They all crowded into the front seat, althouh Sea Cat's van has three rows of seats behind. He stopped for our ice. He is a kind hearted man and knows everybody. Tomorrow we will take his tour up the Emerald Pool and the Carib indian reservation. He spent the morning in the hospital while we were at the police, having strained his leg in his exertions last night; but with the wound redressed, he says he is willing and able to drive us tomorrow.

Never a dull moment, aboard Django.

Sunday, December 6, 2009, Portsmouth, Dominica

I have almost given up on opening and closing the hatch over our bed when the rain comes and goes. I awake immediately I feel the rain on my face, it goes on for five minuntes, then stops for on hour. Its enough to keep me up all night. K sleeps the other way round in the bunk, so I am the keeper of the hatch.

Dominica is much wetter yet than Antigua and Guadeloupe. Sixty inches a year on the drier side and 364 inches on the west and high elevations. Misty mountains, orchids and rainforests, parrots and small rivers galore. A Japanese company plans to ship out bottled water to Europe.

K and I had a bit of a slog getting here. The trades are back and the wind such that we were hard on the wind for the full 20 miles or so from the Saintes to Prince Rupert Bay. We managed to get salt water all over Django and were hoping for rain when we arrived. It held off until after bedtime and washed the boat clean overnight, more than a couple of times.

There are not many boats in the bay, the boat boys are hard up. We ordered bread and ice from Christian the fruit man, and went up the Indian River with Fire, who impresses me more each time I meet him, with his knowledge, intelligence and empathy. We set up a tour to Morne Diablotin, but I was disppointed in the price offered. Far too much money, and too many people involved. We managed to salvage the deal at less money and enjoyed our driver guide very much on a trip up into the misty highlands. Dominica has a wealth of natural sites, trails and places of interest, but few tourists who stay the night, other than us yachties. The cruise shps dock for the day and send their passengers out for the day in airconditioned buses.

We had dinner ashore at the Purple Turtle, dining on 'crayfish'. It was a plate of very large prawns together with a plate of 'food', being rice, yam, dasheen, plantain, beans and coleslaw. All very good, but it set off an interesting discussion on lobsters, crayfish and shrimp. These were clearly not crayfish, I suspected they were frozen cultivated giant freshwaters prawns. K looked it all up on the internet and we found that Dominica's rivers contain several species similar to the commercially cultivated giant prawn, and that what we had dined on could very well have come from the local streams. I am still doubtful that the local streams can support a restaurant trade, but it is definitely a possiblilty. We saw a number of large crab in our wading about in the highland streams, also a local delicacy to be eaten with callaloo. There seem to be few fish in the streams, the biomass being largely crustacean.

Tomorrow we are off to Roseau, in the hopes of seeing Sea Cat. More later.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009, Marigot, Les Saints.

We have been here in Les Saintes for a couple of days. It is very beautiful, and as such, a mecca for tourists arriving on the ferry from Guadeloupe to walk and ride scooters around these small islands. The people here do not share the same history or culture with the main islands of Guadeloupe. Being too dry for plantation culture, it was a fishing settlement for Bretons people, and remains to this day apart from Guadeloupe in culture and attitude. During the long strike last year, Les Saintes remained open for business.

We have visted Fort Napoleon, and dined ashore last evening. Today we made the short walk across the island to the Plage de Pompiere, a lovely sheltered beach with palms and other trees shading most of the beach. We lunched at the at the little grill closest to the beach. I had acras de morue, a salt cod dumpling deep fried. Been there and done that. K had a very good tuna sandwich, which had a lovely island flavour. Funny that so much salt cod is eaten in these island, when there is quite a lot of fresh fish right off their coasts?

In any case, we had peas and rice for dinner and I am blogging before we leave this little paradise with lots of Arnold's HotHotHotSpot internet. Tomorrow we are off to Portsmouth in Dominica, where Arnold has not been able to get the HotSpot working with any stability. The trades are back and we should have a good close hauled sail down, in moderate to biggish seas. Fun.

I have been able to modify my trading techniques to adapt to intermittent contact with the markets and have been the better for it. Now I set me sell order up at the same time I buy, and when I get back on, I diary the reapings.

So its off to Dominica.

Sunday, November 29, Pigeon Island, Guadeloupe.

In case you didn't know, it's my birthday. I have spent the past year celebrating my sixtieth, now here we are at sixty-one. Will the party continue?.... stay tuned.

Before leaving Deshaies, K and I climbed the hill up to the Botanical Gardens. These are not cheap, 14 Euro each, but they are beautifully maintained with a lovely array of tropical shrubs, trees and orchidae from arround the world. Here is a photo of K in her St. Kitts batik dress, dappled by the sun. In the afternoon, we departed for points south.

Pigeon Island is a small bit of basalt outcrop not far from shore halfway down the West coast of Guadeloupe. It is known as a diving site and has moorings dotted around the permimenter, some for dive boats and some for yachts. We managed to pick up a yacht mooring and spent the afternoon and night within 50 ft. of the rock, north swell picking up as we stayed, crashing up aganst the rocks. We enjoyed a lovely swim with mask and snorkel around the rocks. The coral is budding, but from the chunks of coral washed up on the beach, Hurricane Hugo did some major damage here. All the coral is young. The good news is that it seems to be coming back. There are lots of small reef fish close inshore, and midwater yellow tail snappers and sailor's choice out off the moorings.

Next morning, with the swell picking up, we cast off the mooring and pushed south again, passing Basseterre as a bad idea and ushed on for the Saints, a small group of islands off the South West corner of Guadeloupe.