Carriacou to Grenada

Our passage was a pleasant one. I had charted out the rhumb line at 36.1 miles, so I predicted six hours duration at an average of six knots. This includes the ins and outs at each end which are much slower. We left at 7:45 am and arrived at 1:15 pm, five and a half hours later.  This included several miles at eight knots and a peak of 8.5, but several miles toward the end, in the lee of the big island, at much lower speed. We averaged more than 6.5 knots, sailing under full main and small jib on a broad reach most of the way. Our courses were between 215 and 240 magnetic and the winds were north of east except when coming out from behind the lee of islands when they were south of east. We passed west of diamond rock down our port side. This photo also shows The Sisters, further away, in the center of the photo between the shrouds, which we had to pass on our starboard side, and the north coast of Grenada is a gray smudge above the water.

And here are the sisters, closer up.

These rocks caused the variations in our course. A more direct route, slightly further to the west, would have avoided these obstacles, but is forbidden by law because it would have taken us over the top of Kick em Jennie -- an active volcano whose peak is currently 500 feet below the water. The government has imposed a 1.5 kilometer exclusion zone around this hot spot, presumably so they won't have to rescue sailors if the volcano erupts.

The first sure sign of the city of St. Georges was a cruise ship docked at the pier that extends out from the western shore to the northwest. We sailed down this coast and then past the pier.

We could have anchored in Grand Anse (Big Bay in French), in the open sea, outside the harbor, which is near the medical college, the protection of whose students was the ostensible reason for our invasion/liberation of this nation during the Reagan administration (you can see some boats anchored there to the right-center) but it was rolly and would have been a loooong dink ride into town, to the left.

Here is a view of the passage into the harbor. To the right, the white spot is mega yachts in our marina, the largest of which is Bacarella , which we saw in Virgin Gorda and in Antigua.

There was a great big bay to the south of the entrance but almost all of its water has been taken over by Port Louis Marina, shown here as more of a closeup. Bacarella is to the right and if you blow up the photo by clicking on it you can see our two headstays, the black diagonal lines slanting down to the left, on the left side of the photo above the right most red roof.

We had made a reservation but they put of on the wrong dock. Wrong because the dock where we ended up has 110 volt electric (which we decided to use to be able to run the air conditioner to keep out the mosquitos which are prevalent here). We are currently "Med Moored" This is a means of packing in as many boats as possible at limited wharf space by having them back into the face of the dock, with the bow tied to a mooring off shore to prevent the stern from actually hitting the dock, and no piers separating the boats from each other.
We enter and leave the boat by "Walking the Plank." It is the same plank that was used to tie four jerry cans of diesel fuel on the side of  the deck during the eight day passage from Virginia to Tortola, and that remained lashed to the side stanchions from arrival in Tortola until now, in anticipation of its use in this situation.
Our three fenders are hanging off the stern to prevent collisions with the concrete dock.



The next problem was the perennial one internet access. They said that their restaurant had wifi but it did not work. For boats, for a refundable deposit of $300EC, they gave us a modem and a cable to give us direct cabled internet by wire.  But the first two of the boxes they gave us did not work!!!  Frustration!!!!  But, as evidenced by the publication of this post, we are up and running.

Yesterday we spent $200 US at the supermarket which we visited by dink, and then dinked to town to visit the bank to get more ECs. We parked our dink on the far side of the Carenage shown here, and walked around to this side where the fort is.

We visited the Fort, high above the town, built by the English, which was traded back and forth with the French and is now used by the paramilitary police and is where the high elevation photos were taken. It was the site of the execution of the leader (Maurice Bishop) of the nation just before the US military intervention here during the Reagan years. Here is the wall of the courtyard of that fort against which he and much of his cabinet were shot. The pole that supports the basketball net shows bullet holes.

We lunched at BB's Crab Back restaurant where we met Audrey (a native of Staten island) and Mike from Oregon, of  Serenity, a 60 foot Morgan who joined us. We had met them earlier in the day because they are moored next to us - quite a coincidence. Here is a picture of them, with BB and Lene.

Mike and Audrey will we chartering their boat starting next month and have several charters booked already. Click on the Serenity link, above, to see a slide show of their beautiful boat, inside and out.  They had breakfast with us today.

I had planned to work on the boat yesterday and today, but it doesn't take much to shift me from work to fun these days.

Six Days in Tyrell Bay

These six days were quite the opposite of seven ports in seven days, recently posted. Tyrell Bay is big and very sheltered except from the west. It has a large collection of US boats. It has a lazy homey sort of feel with many of the boaters living here year round or for months at a time and so everyone knows everyone. It has no town, but the main road that runs beside the long waterfront has about five restaurants, a canvas shop, a laundry, a fruit seller, a "supermarket", a boatyard with a landing and restaurant called the Carriacou Yacht Club. It is walking distance to the beachfront restaurant/bar, Hardwood, on Paradise Beach where we had dinked from Sandy Island, and the vans which serve as buses run frequently along the road and take you to Hillsborough, the city, for $3.50EC each way. The van operators would rather hire themselves out as taxi drivers and tour guides at higher compensation.

We came here from Petite St. Vincent, where we went back to anchor for one night to visit Petite Martinique, an island we had missed which is 0.4 miles away by dink and has nice walks and a restaurant with internet. Here is a view back to Carriacou from the walk on Petite Martinique.

Our trip to Tyrell was a fun one, almost all on broad reach which we made with full main alone. The first leg was westward from the anchor at PSV (as they call it here) to Gun Point, the northeast point of Carriacou, which looks like the side of a gun barrel as you approach from the east. The winds were 20 knots and it was rolly. But, once past the point, we jibed to head south along the west side of the island and things calmed down. The challenge was that we were then on port tack and dead down wind and even by the lee (wind a bit from the same side as the sail is out) an accidental jibe can easily happen. We needed to maintain this course to clear Sandy Island to port, then Mabouya Island to starboard and then Point Cistern, the southwestern most point of Carriacou to port. After that, we could head up into an easier, more beamy reach for the one mile into Tyrell. The bay has a deep water channel between its north coast and the anchorage area. it is supposed to be marked by buoys but not very well. The chart plotter shows the reef quite well so Lene gained experience steering her in "on instruments".

We found ourselves a big enough hole between other boats and dropped the hook very close to the stern of Yenrah II, a 44 foot Beneteau from Narragansett Bay, and settled back on 70 feet of chain in 18 feet of water. We were hailed by Yenrah's mistress, with a British accent so I assumed, erroneously, she was a chartered boat. After all was set and tidied up, we dinked over and introduced ourselves to the Harneys, Aiden and Helen


(that's Yenrah spelled backwards). They were most helpful in pointing out where and how to dump garbage and get internet, and became our friends during our stay here. He is a retired software engineer and she ran a daycare center and was a speedskater, though given her strong but slight body one would figure her for Axels and toeloops. They worked for Honeywell for 12 years in Glendale, Arizona and became dual citizens but now live back in England. They have kept their boat here for the past ten years and spend the winters on it. They introduced us to Alan and Lisbeth,


aboard a black hulled 39 foot Freedom Schooner (two masts of equal height) called Life of Reilly. He is British and she is Danish and he has lived aboard for eleven years without a land base, she for the last 18 months. Alan brought over a portable hard drive and helped Lene load 600 books onto our Laptop, together with an e-reader.

What have we done here for six days? Not much.
I put a lot of battery water in the boats seven batteries; we cleaned the boat; we learned to use the shop vac to suck up those nasty little gnat sized black flies; we put up the fly to provide shade which turned out to be the playground slide that caused Whitty to take a swim (as reported in a prior posting); we walked to Hardwood at Paradise Beach, where my wet swim suit was permitted on their plastic chairs and shoes are unheard of; Roger cleaned the ugly black scratches from the port quarter of our dinghy which were created when it got bounced around under the dinghy dock on St. Vincent, with 303 Aerospace Protectant (with SPF 40), a miraculously good cleaner and softener of hypalon, the fabric of which dinks are made; we took a bus ride into Hillsborough with Helen for shopping in ten different stores (I counted them) with the only disappointment being no kitty litter for sale anywhere on this island and no mangos are ripe so no mango pancakes are possible; we had laundry done; we ate half of the Mahi Mahi filets we bought in the fish store; we ate 18 mangrove oysters delivered to us by the philosophical boat boy, Roberto, who had picked them from the bottom of the mangrove swamp (they have very flat shells and are quite small compared to northern oysters and great with a drop of lemon juice and hot sauce); we had the Harney's for cocktail hour one night and they reciprocated a couple of nights later; and we dined with them in a restaurant called The Slipway (on the site of a former boat building operation where the highlight, from Roger's perspective, was the desert -- Tamarind Fool -- a mousse of the fruit of the tamarind), and got caught there in a heavy rainstorm.
Here is a view of Jack a Dan rock, which guards/obstucts the entrance to Hillsborough. Notice the shoal extending to the right, so we kept to its left side when we came in to check in.

Downtown Hillsborough with its ferry/dinghy dock, and the customs offices at the head of the dock and boats waiting to clear in or out anchored center. This view is from the back door of the fish market.


Our next stop is mainland Grenada, a passage of 36 miles, and our longest since we passed from St. Lucia to St. Vincent, about five weeks ago. It will also be our last inter-island passage before we haul on Grenada on April 18 in preparation for flying home.

Carriacou on Dwellable

Lene Saves the Day X 3

Ilene has rescued ILENE and her crew three times in the past few days.

1.
We have a Doyle stack pack on our mainsail. (The blue bag lying horizontally atop the boom in the first photo below.) This makes taking this sail down very easy. Lene steers the boat directly into the wind and I release the clutch that holds the main halyard -- the line (rope) which we had pulled on with the electric winch to raise the big heavy mainsail. This sail's weight causes it to rush down with a whoosh! But, instead of falling all over the place thus requiring me to try to gather it together, tie it up and fit a sail cover over it to protect it from the suns ultraviolet rays, it is guided down into the blue bag by the four lines which run up on each side of the boom. The bag can then be zipped up easily. The four lines on each side are called a "lazy jack" system. They are attached at various points at the bottom along the length of the boom, and attached to a small stainless steel ring at their top. They can be seen leading upwards diagonally from the top of the blue canvas covered boom if you blow up this photo, taken back in Martinique.


The ring is held up by a single white line which leads from the ring to a block high on the mast and then down along the side of the mast to a cleat where it is fastened in the next photo. The line shown here is properly cleated; the final turn is parallel to the prior causing friction so it won't come loose.


I call these two lines, one on each side, the lazy jack halyards because they are what pull up the lazy jack lines.

Well, these same lazy jacks that make it so easy to drop the mainsail, can make it hard to raise that sail because the aft ends of the battens, which run horizontally in the sail to stiffen the fabric, get caught under the lazy jack lines, especially the rearmost one, requiring me to stop the winch, jump up and try to free the ends of the battens. Lene tries to steer as straight as possible, directly into the wind so that the sail will stream back between the two sets of lazy jack lines without the battens catching on them, but this is quite hard, if not impossible, to achieve.

Recently we have learned to avoid this batten/lazy jack conflict by lowering the lazy jack halyard and pulling all four of the lazy jack lines into an "L" shape: vertical, parallel to the mast, down to the boom and then horizontal, parallel to the boom. In fact, we only need to lower the lazy jacks on one side and keep the wind not directly from in front of us, but ever so slightly from the other side, to have the main go up trouble free.
A couple of days ago I did the lowering of the lazy jack halyard, but simply hooked a loop at the end of the lazy jack halyard to the cleat. I should have cleated it firmly down. The loop came loose and the halyard was flying free in the air. I grabbed the boat hook to try to grab the errant bitter end of this line with the hook, to no avail. I climbed up on top of the boom, holding the lazy jack lines on the unloosened side in one hand to balance myself and the boat hook in the other hand trying to snag the loose end. But by now the errant line had been twisted around other lines and it was not to be successfully snared with the boat hook.
Lene saved the day by hoisting me up in our bos'ns chair. This is a board seat bottom set in a canvas sided chair with a metal loop in front. I got into the chair and attached the same main halyard that we use to pull up the mainsail, to the metal loop of the chair, in my lap. Next is a reenactment photo; note the lazy jacks and in the down "L" position.


Then using the electric winch Lene hoisted me up the mast until I could grab the loose line, untangle it, tie it to myself and request Lene to lower me back down. The lowering down is trickier than the hauling up because we have a clutch that will not let the line slip away from Lene (thereby causing me to crash down) on the way up. But for the downward trip, this clutch must be released. For the trip down, I was reliant on the friction of the line which was turned several times around the drum of the winch, and Lene's strength and skill is slowly easing out the line, always holding on with at least one hand. Mission accomplished successfully.

2.

As soon as the anchor came up (which is my job, with the electric windlass doing the heavy lifting) it was necessary for Lene to put the engine, which had been idling in neutral, into gear to take us away from the other boats and into open water so the boat can be headed into the wind to raise the mainsail (see item 1.) Lene yelled: "She won't go into gear!" I raced back and took the wheel and said: "No; she is in gear, the only problem is that the tachometer has somehow stopped working so it looks like there is no motion but we are being propelled in forward gear." This photo shows the tach while the engine is off, and also the ignition key and the red "STOP" button which get involved later.

The sail was raised and we went on. Fifteen minutes later Lene went below and yelled: "The batteries are reading only 11.70 volts (which is very low) and the indicator that shows whether the batteries are charging shows no charge going into them." The next photo shows the house bank battery, number 2, at a reasonable 12.20 volts and the green light by "Charge" at its left, shows that a charge is going into the battery. A charge goes into the battery when we have the engine running as we do every day for an hour. Our refrigeration depends on that daily charge.

I raced into the cabin and Lene took the wheel. I shut off the refrigerator and the watermaker and asked Lene to steer by hand, putting the autopilot into standby, thereby eliminating the three items that take the most juice out of the batteries. Then I started thinking about who was going to repair our electrical system once we got to port. But Lene saved the day again, noting that the engine switch was in the wrong position. The key in the ignition has three positions: "Start" is to the extreme right; "On" in the middle position and "Off" to the left. As in a car, you turn to start to engage the starter motor which starts the engine and then release the key which snaps back to "On". It is in the nature of diesels that they require no electricity to keep running once they are on, but engage in dieseling to keep running until deprived of fuel or air. So the way to turn the engine off is to press the red Stop button. When the engine stops, there is a beep and the beep is then turned off by turning the key from On to Off. What had happened was that I'd heard the starter motor's whine for a fraction of a second after the engine started so I turned the key to the left toward On to shut the starter motor off, noting that this key was in needed of a bit of lubrication. But instead of turning from Start back to On, I had gone too far and turned it to Off. This did not shut down the engine but merely shut down its electrical system. Lene turned the key from Off to On and the engine continued to purr, but the tachometer came back on and the batteries were charging again.

3.

Lene's most heroic rescue took place in Tyrell Bay on Carriacou where it was hot and windless. I put up a white nylon "fly" that came with the boat, over five years ago, but had never been used. It is designed to provide shade over the boat to keep it cool. But on a windy day it is both not needed and presents a big piece of cloth that can blow the boat around.
Never having seen it installed, it took me four tries to get it on right. First I sought to rig it up over the front of the boat, from the bow back to the mast, but it obviously did not fit. Next I put it up from the mast back, covering the salon (living room/dining room), but it had no fore and aft symmetry which was obviously wrong. Having seen it spread out, I figured out how to get it on in a symmetrical way. Finally I recognized a loop in the middle on the bottom. This meant that the thing was upside down, because the loop in question was for the attachment of the main halyard to pull up the center of this "tent". Finally it was on right, forming a sort of pup tent over the boat to keep the deck in the shade in the heat of the day when the sun is high. It has seven small diameter lines at each side of the tent to tie it down. Later I fine tuned its many strings to get it into a more taut shape. There are all sorts of snaps at its front edge, perhaps to attach a second piece of it to the piece we do have, to cover the area from the bow to the mast, but this piece, if it ever existed, is nowhere we know of.

That night, after dark, perhaps eight o'clock, Lene is still up but I had a buzz in my head from the second gin and tonic I had made. She heard a loud spash, so loud that on this calm night, even our neighbors on their boat heard it. Lene looked around but saw nothing, even with her flashlight. Fifteen seconds later she heard a loud meow and looked again. There was Whitty, the orange male cat, swimming and meowing, but not making any progress toward the boat because a small current was taking him away. She called me to rouse me, jumped into the water fully clothed, reached Whitty, grabbed him (he did not resist) and used her legs to swim to the swim platform where I took him from her arms. Then I got towels to mop up the water he dripped throughout the cabin and to dry him. Lene took her second shower of the evening to wash off the salt and peace was restored -- except that Alpha Girl, possibly not recognizing Whitty because of the loss of his customary feline smell, hissed and growled at him for most of the next day. A happy, dry Whitty, laying on the foot of our bed and playing with the line that is used to hold up the lee cloth which is connected when we are underway to prevent falling out of bed:



We concluded that in playing tag with each other the cats had gotten from the relatively flat and easily grabbable Sunbrella canvas fabric of the dodger and bimini, to this shiny nylon fly with sides slanted down like a pup tent and he had slid off. So we took the tent down, and will not fly it again while the cats are aboard, which is why we have no photo of it.

Lene is the heroine of the entire crew, feline and human for her three recent big saves.

Carriacou on Dwellable

Lots of Little Moves In the Last Week

From Clifton Harbor in Union Island, we have been to Petite St. Vincent (an island resort that allows us to anchor off and stroll the grounds) for two nights; then to Frigate Rock Anchorage off Union Island for one night; then back to Clifton Harbor to check out of customs in St. Vincent and the Grenadines (but who knew it was Heroes Day, a national holiday, so we had to check out at the airport and pay overtime rates; then to the big beautiful well protected, unspoiled natural Chatham Bay at the west side of Union Island for two nights; then to Hillsborough on Carriacou Island, which belongs to Grenada (where the cats got lawfully checked into Grenada customs and immigration, thereby relieving the greatest source of Lene's anxiety because having been checked in, they can now check out with us when we fly home with them), then (because Hillsborough is commercial and rolly, to the new mooring field behind Sandy Island which is a sandbar for two nights; and then to Petite Martinique, which belongs to Grenada, though ILENE is anchored back in Petite St. Vincent, half a mile away, where we are now. So it has been seven moves in seven days.

But the longest of them was not more than eight miles and these were easy sails in light winds with moderate sails up and pleasant overall. A few showers at night could not dampen our spirits but we have been plenty damp with snorkeling, the best of which was off Sandy Island, where Lene discovered what she called a playground for fish. In about 8 to 10 feet of water was the most abundant display of different corals and sea flora and small schools of perhaps 20 species of fish, brightly colored or translucent, over a bottom littered with long spiny black sea urchins. It was like swimming in an aquarium.

Other highlights of the last week in photos:
The rough north side of Sandy Island. A hurricane threw up the wall of broken coral pieces on that side which protects the sandbar. Union Island is in the background with Chatham Bay just left of the left point.
Sandy Island's south side looking East for most of its length. Our dink is on the beach. it is not crowded. The fish playground is off to the left. Carriacou is the high land a mile behind.
Sandy Island as seen from ILENE.
They are trying to develop Chatham Bay. The restaurant with pool is operational and expensive and one home is partially completed.
Lene on a bluff used to graze sheep high above Chatham Bay. One sailboat is visible at extreme right; ILENE is to the right of that boat out of sight from this vantage point.
A better view of the same Bay.
Sun Beach and Eat is a local restaurant. Tables are fabric covered 4 by 8 sheets of plywood and the fish is cooked on an outdoor grill. The proprietor is Seckie (everyone here goes by his or her nickname) who Rona and Tabou had told us back in St. Vincent, is their friend. He is the chef and his lady, Vanessa, the waitress. They were most hospitable. Seckie even waded into the Bay to help us land our dink. Shoes are optional and rarely worn. We met Seckie in Clifton where he had come around in his boat to invite boaters to his restaurant. Entrepreneurial spirit is strong in these islands. We said, No thanks; we are going to Seckie's who was recommended to us. He said "I am Seckie!"
Here are Finn and Ole, two Danes who have sailed Privateer a 60 foot Swan that they bought in San Francisco and sailed here five years ago. Sorry you can't see their faces in this photo due to shadows, but you can see their boat, behind them. For the non boaters among our readers, Swan means Rolls Royce. Lene invited them for my mango pancakes, where the photo was taken and after hiking, snorkeling, bathing and reading we had drinks on Privateer. The boat has everything that anyone could want in terms of design, equipment, and nothing but the best. Ole won an Olympic sailing medal in 1964 and they were a font of wisdom about sailing in these waters.
At Seckie's restaurant. We shared a four pound broiled, spiced Caribbean lobster, which was Lene's first, and delicious. They don't have the claw that Maine lobsters have. We had it with all the trimmings: breadfruit salad, rice, cabbage salad and fried plantains.
The anchorage behind Frigate Rock, where we stayed the night before. Union Island is in the background and a bit of the rock is to the right. The anchorage is not behind the main mass of the rock but behind the peninsula leading to Union Island so the boats are nicely protected from the ocean waves but not from the winds. Uncharacteristically four of the six boats anchored here last night flew US flags; normally US flagged boats are a distinct minority behind French, British and German flagged boats.
Frigate Rock. Perhaps its twin humps suggested the full sails of a schooner or frigate from the taller mainmast and the shorter foremast.
The shark tank at the Anchorage Yacht Club in Clifton.



Eleen was our steady produce vendor at Clifton Harbor. Her stall is surrounded by half a dozen others selling the same produce, all imported from St. Vincent; it is too dry to grow vegetables in the Grenadines.Our British neighbor at Petite St. Vincent.

Meandering in the Grenadines

After three days in Mayreau, we sailed the four miles south to Union Island, the southernmost and one of the largest of the Grenadines, with 2000 to 2500 inhabitants. After asking about a dozen natives how the island got it's name, one Rastafarian shoemaker told me that this was the island on which, in the old days, the chiefs of all the inhabited islands united to hold their meetings.

The sail down was a broad reach and we used only the genoa. This sail has been little used this winter -- due to heavy winds.

Clifton, the main town on the island, is a street about five blocks long, lined with colorful shops and restaurants. The harbor is formed on one side by this town, and on the other by a huge reef that blocks the incoming ocean waves, but not the wind. (In the middle of this reef is a bar/restaurant which can only be accessed by dinghy...we haven't gone yet but it looks very appealing.) At the head of the harbor is the side of the runway of the busy little airport here. In the middle of the harbor is another reef, unmarked. On the side of this reef nearer town the water is 45 feet deep, making for a long anchor chain, while on the more popular outer side, where we anchored, the water is 20 to 35 feet deep. Our first stop was the garbage shed, to get rid of stinky stuff and then to arrange for internet access on the boat which is available (not great, though) in this harbor. We shopped for groceries at The Grand Union (not what you're thinking, believe me!) and at the local market for produce. Union is a dry island and all produce is shipped in from St. Vincent, a wet island. St. Vincent is wet because its peaks are so high that they "grab" the passing clouds which send down their rain. We also had the bent snubber line hook bent back into shape by Mr. Unitech who also sold us a refill of propane because our bottle was almost empty.

Windara, with Glenn and Elsa Gustafson, (this photo was taken on ILENE at Mayreau)

showed up the next day and we had breakfast with them at the Anchorage Yacht Club the following day. This was a big disappointment, e.g., we had to ask for the juice that was listed as part of the Continental breakfast twice before it was reluctantly delivered, at the end of the meal. Elsa said it was poor training, which, with the poor coffee and non-baguette, made for a poor breakfast. Glenn gave us a spare patio light with photoelectric switch, solar panel and rechargeable battery which we screwed onto the top of our dinghy outboard -- to diminish the likelihood of the dinghy being hit by another boat during the night.

After breakfast, Elsa, but not Glenn, joined us on what ended up as a four mile walk on mostly paved roads. We went to the next town on the same side of the island, Ashton, and saw the churches and the well there. We could see the water in the well and a sign said that the mechanical pump had been added in recent decades, which made life easier for the people here. No washing or bathing is permitted in the well area, because whatever gets washed off should not contaminate the well. Then we selected a road that took us over the hump of the island to the other side. There we saw what a modern sign labeled as the quarry. Small sheets of corrugated metal supported in their corners by wooden posts provided some shade for the men and women working there, about five of them, each under one of the metal awnings. Each sat on a pile of rocks with a hammer, pounding the bigger rocks into gravel. I sensed that each was an independent entrepreneur. They all smiled at us. It was so primitive that I took no photos. This road led to the other coast, the one on which waves crashed on the beach. We saw two empty hotels. One, the Amerindian, was closed and the other, The Islander's Inn, was about to open soon. It would be operated and was built by Sandra,

from southwest Germany (shown here with Elsa) and her husband during the last ten winters. The other 6 months of each of those years were spent in Germany making money for this dream of theirs. It will have about ten rooms all facing the ocean and hence in no need of air conditioning. The brush that covered 20 yards between the hotel and the sea had recently been cut/burned to provide access and once landscaped will be lovely. We had a refreshing drink with Sandra and wished her luck with The Islander's Inn -- a great place for people who want to truly get away from everything and read books in quietude.

Yesterday, after saying goodbye to the Gustafsons (who we hope we may meet up with again in Grenada) we sailed North for the first time since this voyage began, to return to the Tobago Cays. We did so based on Glenn and Elsa's intelligence as to where the turtles swam. We retraced our course around Mayreau beating into gentle winds with double reefed main (too heavily reefed) and small jib, past Saltwhistle Bay. This time we did take ILENE into the Cays proper, and there were half as many boats as last time; it was not crowded. For the first time on this trip, and it was not because of heavy winds, our anchor dragged while we were eating lunch there. After resetting it we bought another black fin tuna, this time from Mattie Man.

After lowering the dink so we had access to the aft swim platform, we swam the 100 yards to the edge of the area marked as protected by a string of small white floats and put on the snorkels and masks. For the next hour we followed, at a respectable distance of about ten feet, four different sea turtles which were about 2 feet wide. They swam with us (actually we swam with them) in the water that was 8 to 12 feet deep. They mostly were grabbing short seaweed growing from the bottom with their beaks and eating it, coming up to the surface for a look around (or to breathe?) every 5 to 10 minutes. Their front fins are so well articulated that they can move in any direction and the fins can rotate to any angle making these awkward looking creatures quite maneuverable. If we had an underwater camera it would have been the picture of our journey.

Back on board, the Park Ranger boat came along side as we were finishing our showers. I told them that we had paid for two days last time (it is $10EC or $2.50US per person per day) but this time we were only here for two hours. They said "That's cool, my brother" and left us without seeking payment. The air was clear of clouds and we could see St Vincent to the north, every one of the Grenadines and Carriacou and Grenada to the south (our final stops this winter); the whole known world was spread out for us. It was a beautiful sight for Roger who is a map lover.

We read for a bit and then headed back to Union Island, retracing again the same route except this time it was a beam reach west and a broad reach south. We used full main and small jib in winds of ten knots and made a very pleasant 3.5 to 5 knots with little heeling during the short passage. It reminded me of a pleasant sail on Long Island Sound. Ilene loved our leisurely pace. We had left at 10:30 am and were back before 5. And then came the tuna and a very good night sleep with little wind.

Canouan to Tobago Cays to Mayreau to Union Island

We are now on Union Island and have our first opportunity to access the internet since we left the Tamarind Beach Hotel in Canouan. When we got back to the boat that day, Thorston and Angelika came by on their dink with a six pack and a fruit juice for me the teetotaler.

It was quite pleasant. Actually, I hope to visit them one day in Hamburg. We sailed the next AM for Tobago Cays which Thorston said he and Angelika had left almost immediately after arriving because of the crowds. I had this fantasy that we would be in isolation there and skinny dip and just be alone with nature. What a fool I was! It was very crowded but Roger picked an anchorage that was outside the main area and it was really lovely. We spent two nights there and took our dink to the main anchorage behind Horseshoe reef where there was a spit of beach crowded with our dink and others. The spit was lapped by waves on both sides

and it made for uncomfortable and murky snorkeling. We climbed the little hill of Baradel Island and then took our dink to the beach on Petit Bateau, one of the little islets that make up the Cays (pronounced "keys"). We snorkeled there and it was really nice but we were spoiled by the fish and coral at Pain du Sucre (Ile des Saintes) and at St. John, USVI where the snorkeling was great. BTW, the weather lately has been spectacular. There has been little rain, light wind but plenty to sail, and sunny skies with the breezes to cool us.
One day the ever present and beloved boat boy sold us a 6 lb. black fin tuna which he had caught that morning and filleted right in front of us on his boat with our knife. We had two dinners from it and it was yummy.
We left on the 3rd morning and sailed with jenny only the less than two miles to Saltwhistle Bay on Mayreau. This was such a pretty anchorage. ILENE is furthest away, in the middle of the photo, the boat with two headsails.


The wind blows steadily from the east, forming misshapen trees which frame Ilene, the person, with a bit of water outside the bay behind.


We spent 3 nights there and almost as soon as we arrived, we had a visitor by dink. They are Elsa and Glenn Gustafson on Windara (in Aborigine that name means "Which way?", they explained). The boat is a beautiful 2001 J46 which is known for its speed and quality. We had our Caribbean 1500 flag flying and they spotted us because they were participants as well. They were in the racing division and came in 2nd place! They lived in Chicago for years but have since retired and now, after spending two seasons in the Bahamas, they will be leaving their boat down in the Caribbean and will return to sail next winter --like us.. We had dinner and breakfast on our boat after spending an hour or two on their boat for cocktails and snacks. Spending time with other sailors is very entertaining and enhances the network of friends we have down in this part of the world.

We left Mayreau this morning and headed to Union which is the most southern Grenadine and although we just arrived a few hours ago, we did take a quick dink ride into town. It is charming! I am looking forward to spending more time here. The cruising guide says this island has the best hikes of all the Grenadines AND, although it comes and goes, we can get the internet on the boat here. That hasn't happened since Antigua!!!

Mustique to Canouan

We are on borrowed time so the post will be short, meaning that we are renting a computer at the Tamarind Beach Hotel at a rate of $5 US per 30 minutes.
We had 2 rainy days on Mustique which came with a couple of minor leaks through the starboard fixed port and the mast boot. This was only for a few minutes of very heavy driving rain.
On our last full day on Mustique we took a walk to see The Cotton House, a former plantation turned super luxurious resort hotel. It has only 17 rooms and we were able to visit one because we'd made friends on Bequia with a German couple who we then ran into at the hotel. Even though they were chartering a catamaran, Thorsten who is much more of a sailor than Angelika, promised his wife several nights in a hotel. He bought us a drink and then invited us to see his room. Wow! Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the beach, the sea and far off the island of Bequia. Roger and I decided to have dinner as they had a special BBQ that night which turned out to be delicious and actually quite reasonable.
We sat at a table for 6...us, Thorston and Angelika (who own a scaffolding business in Hamburg) and another couple we met at the bar before dinner who had just arrived from London for 10 days ($700 per night w/o food) -- and this was their 7th visit to The Cotton House. It was a very pleasant and international evening. The Cotton House provided us with a driver who took us back to the dinghy dock when we were done.
We shopped early Sunday AM at the local (and expensive) food market before we left as we had been told the islands we were planning on going to next (Canouan, Mayreau and Union) would have less provisions and be even more dear.
We arrived in Lower Bay of Canouan after a 2 hour sail (which Roger is itching to describe) and dropped anchor and pent two nights there. It was fairly peaceful and we did lots of relaxing, some swimming and reading. Roger actually did an unbelievable job cleaning our stove and oven which hadn't had that kind of cleaning since I can't even remember.

{Roger here: The wind was 20 to 27 knots from 230 magnetic, directly behind us. So we sailed 260 and then 200, with a jibe in between. We covered the 12 miles in two hours with double reefed main and no headsail, with waves pushing us. Rounding the north end of the island we had intended to anchor in Corbay, described as very small and the most protected but a bit industrial. However, we blew right past it without seeing it and anchored in Little Bay in 20 feet of water with 70 feet of chain. We were behind a small headland and projecting reef that broke up the incoming swell somewhat, and about 100 feet from the western shore on which the remaining swell broke on the rocks. We were there with three very small boats sailed by Frenchmen (one of whom had a woman with him.) They had sailed here from Europe via Brazil on a 25 foot boat. Next morning they left and a 90 footer and two catamarans joined us. The anchorage was uncomfortably rolly -- at one point 10 degrees on either side of horizontal.}

Today, Tuesday, we left the anchorage at about 9 AM, for the one mile motor trip into Grand Bay which is the main harbor on the island. Whitty loves to sit on top of the bimini as soon as we turn on the engine and begin moving. I generally have to capture him and put him below until Roger raises the sails. Since we didn't raise the sail I let him be. Never again!!! What a scare we had. All of sudden he wasn't there and wouldn't respond to my shaking his treats....which he ALWAYS responds to. Roger turned the boat and we got ready for a search and rescue at sea. Then Alpha Girl jumped onto the dodger and up onto the boom and went all the way forward and into the stackpack (sail cover) . Could he be there? He was. They are really unbelievable mates and AG led us to him.
We took a mooring, gathered laundry and let Alvin...boat boy....take us into town with our garbage and laundry. We walked for hours, had a local lunch, found this place so we could communicate a bit with you, and we will head back to the boat as soon as Alvin meets us at 3 PM. Tomorrow we decided to sail the few miles to the Tobago Cays for their world famous snorkeling as the winds are supposed to lessen a bit and we will be even more comfortable there with less wind. The cays are several small low lying islands that stop the waves but not the wind. There is absolutely nothing there but land and sea so we sleep, read snorkel and rest and eat. I am looking forward to that experience.