Martinique

O.K. Lene can no longer claim that she is not happy here, despite a scrape to her ankle when she fell carrying groceries. Behind her is a life saving device, the hydraulic backstay adjusted and our dinghy resting in her davit bar. incidentally, i have just learned that by clicking on any posted photo one can enlarge it.

Martinique is the largest, most populous and most developed island in these parts, but internet access has been a problem for the last five days, so I will present only highlights of those days.

We made three passages: from Roseau,Dominica to the northernmost port in Martinique: St. Pierre; from there along the west (sheltered) coast of that island to Fort du France, and finally along the lower west coast and south coasts of Martinique, eastward to Ste. Anne, a fishing village turned tourist village where we are now. These passages were uneventful with strong winds between islands and at the mouth of the huge bay in which F du F is located and moderate winds when in the lee of islands. On the first trip we were entertained by (or was it the other way around) by a pod of porpoises that frolicked along with us for a few minutes. The last trip was made interesting by the failure of our GPS, auto pilot and my back. So we hand steered and dead reckoned our position and Lene took a more active role. It was daylight after all and we had a chart and prominent landmarks like diamond rock, 560 feet high, which we tacked behind.


Before leaving Roseau Lene wanted to take on water. Our boat boy directed us near the mooring nearest his dock (which was occupied at that time by another boat) and tied us to the same mooring with a double length mooring line. Then he took another double length line from our stern, tied us to the dock and passed a garden hose to us. Easy! $10US.

In St Pierre, Martinique, we anchored in pretty deep water near the town dock. The next photo is from that dock and shows ILENE flying the tricolor of our host nation at the spreader as well as Old Glory from the stern.


I got a haircut, so my visage will henceforth be less shaggy for a while, and we toured the museum of the Volcano. St Pierre used to be called "the Paris of the Caribbean" with a large theater, botanical gardens, telephone lines, etc. But in the spring of 1902, Mt. Pelee, overlooking the city, erupted like Mt. St. Helens. Everyone except one prisoner, saved by the depth of his underground jail cell, about 30,000 folks in all, died. So the old city could now be called the Pompeii of the Caribbean. The current town is built just to the south of the original but has only 4000 residents. These two photos are of the stage and below of the grand entrance to the excavated theater:



Fort du France is a real city, the largest I have entered since New York, with 100,000 residents, a raised six-lane limited-access highway and an American style, enclosed two-story mall, Le Galleria, which, of course, nostalgia compelled us to visit, walking all of its halls. The big draw for us there was a large supermarket where we dropped 200 Euros on not only foods for us but French cat food (they loved it!) and litter and a plastic pail to replace the one that got away from Lene during one passage. Our other major activity in the two days in that city was a rendezvous and dinner out with Rory and David Craig, of "Aurora", with who we had celebrated Thanksgiving way back in Nanny Cay, Tortola, 2 1/2 months ago. We had a lot of catching up to do. The restaurant, La Cave au Vin, was quite swank and modern and gourmet. I had a grilled whole conch; so now I know why it is used ground up in fritters and soups: it is chewy (tough). A band of 40 drummers serenaded us while practicing in a parking lot on our way back to the boat.

Here in Ste. Anne, we fixed the electronics (we think); it was loose wires (we hope). Hand steering, beating to windward, fixing loose wires and dinner aboard was not the way I had hoped to celebrate Lene growing a day older on her birthday; but she is a trooper. Today we walked around this charming little town looking for and finding the Club Med -- but it is full and takes only weekly visitors. So we had a celebratory lunch at a restaurant which had been recommended by one of Lene's successful candidates, who visits these French islands often.



We plan to stay in Martinique for a few more days during which high winds are predicted. There are some hikes and beaches, though swimming from the boat beats beaches: privacy, no sand, shade when you want it, no commute.