Puerto Rico to Bahamas

Puerto Rico to Dominican to Turks and Caicos to Bahamas
24 June 2008

Ok, I have to admit that nobody really told me that sailing 1,600 nautical miles or so is going to be one never-ending bliss. I made that up in my mind, it was a fiction of my naïve imagination. But as the miles and experiences accumulate, it is slowly dawning on me that there is no free paradise. Every moment of bliss has to be earned. Sometimes, Kuno and I look at each other thinking “Are we crazy?”, validating Tatiana’s sentiments all along. Other times, it truly is a paradise. We are hanging on anchor at Crooked Island in the Bahamas, waiting out some high winds, and as I look at the last 8 days and 650 nautical miles covered, nothing could demonstrate this ying and yang of our experiences better.

We have completely underestimated the time that it would take us to get through the Bahamas and spent way too much time in the Leeward Islands. By the time we were in Puerto Rico, the urgency set in and we knew we will have to make relentless progress, meaning days of continuous sailing with little or no breaks. We want to save enough time for the Exuma Cays in the Bahamas, supposedly one of the most beautiful cruising grounds. And so we set out from Puerto Rico and spent the next three nights and days sailing to Puerto Plata in Dominican Republic. We had some beautiful time on flat water with just the right amount of wind, when we could read, play cards, cook and even watch a movie underway. We also had a completely miserable stretch of big swell hitting us sideways that made both Tatiana and I seasick. Kuno seems to be immune to this discomfort, but when we finally landed in the Ocean World Marina next to Puerto Plata, all three of us were happy to be on terra firma. As a reward, we allowed ourselves some time to rest and enjoy the swimming pool and neighbouring ocean park. Tatiana and Kuno swam with dolphins, which did tricks with them and around them, and we watched a hilarious sea lion show. It is absolutely amazing how agile these animals are, defying their blobby appearance. Normally I am not too keen on animal attractions of any kind, but this place was pretty amazing, with wonderful space and facilities for the animals and we left feeling that both the dolphins and the sea lions actually had a great time performing, just like we did watching.

Given the time constraints, we decided against visiting Santo Domingo, as it is 4 hour drive away from Puerto Plata and it would have been a very tiring excursion. In some way, this part of the trip is starting to feel like a reconnaissance of places that we will want to visit in the future. Just a sampler, to tease our travel buds.

Before our night departure for Turks and Caicos, Tatiana was able to connect via Skype into her friend Abby’s birthday party and see and talk to all her friends. That was a real treat and made leaving for the long sail a little bit more bearable for her. Tatiana has by now settled into the rhythm of sailing, and is quite happy sleeping, reading and listening to her ipod while underway. We even started knitting a scarf together to keep ourselves busy.

And so the ying and yang, hardship and reward continued.

Our first stop in Turks and Caicos was on a deserted sanctuary of Big Sand Cay. We haven’t seen another sailboat underway for days and despite Sand Cay being a typical staging point for those traveling through the Caribbean, we had it completely to ourselves. It is late in the season; most cruisers are now well out of this area, either back in Florida or south in Trinidad to weather out the hurricane season. It can be eerie at times to be alone on the ocean with no land and no other boats in sight, especially at night, but I have come to trust our boat and ourselves and there is an element of excitement to it. Just a few steps up on the beach at Sand Cay we saw hundreds of birds (I think they were terns) nesting and nearly attacking us as we walked by their eggs, openly laid in shallow sand holes. Even more interesting, we followed the sand tracks of a big turtle (you can tell by the width of the track and the tail dragging imprint in the middle) and discovered the sand pit where she laid and hid her eggs. A bit later we also saw baby turtle tracks. I wish I could see the little guys running to the water after they hatch, but we will have to leave that for another time, it might take days (or weeks?) before these turtles are ready. The beach was magnificent and we spent the afternoon boogie boarding in the turquoise water. Unfortunately, Tatiana got stung by jelly fish tentacles and had a rather severe reaction to it. When her tongue started tingling and she couldn’t keep down even water, it was time to research our options of how to get her to a hospital. Not many options in the middle of nowhere – three hour sail to an uncertain possibility of a medical facility on Grand Turk or a satellite 911 phone call to Coast Guard. Luckily, the reaction slowly faded away and a few hours later only a fever and the marks from the sting remained.

Taking the opportunity of Tatiana being exhausted and sleeping, we set out on our next leg across the Caicos Bank. The banks are incredible, shallow and spanning hundreds of miles, fringed by reef and cays all around. Within a few hundred meters the ocean depth goes from more than a kilometer to just a few feet. This can create some wild currents and waves, but we are lucky, as the day is calm, and our sail unfolds uneventfully. Once on the bank, we sail in 9 - 12 feet of water for many hours, occasionally dodging coral heads and seeing every rock at the bottom. For parts of the sail I stand a watch on the bow, trying to guide Kuno through the maze without hitting anything. The color of the water is telling of the depth below, but there is very small margin of error left. Our experience from sailing in similar conditions in Belize equipped us well, but it is still unnerving, considering that our boat draws 6 feet. We are rewarded by six dolphins joining us for quite some time on the journey, crisscrossing in front and under our bow. What a magnificent sight. Ying and yang, dolphins after a tiring sail …

After a brief stop in the lee of West Caicos with a dinner and a few hours of sleep, we continue through the night to the Bahamas. In the morning we sail through another coral maze into the anchorage in Abrahams Bay on Mayaguana, clearing in with customs and immigration, furnishing the necessary stacks of forms and a payment that includes a $150 mandatory fishing license despite the fact that we don’t fish. We are an exception; most cruisers delight in fishing and catching lobsters and conch – for entertainment and cheap source of dinner, even competition among companion boats. But neither Kuno nor I have a clue about fish, which ones are good to eat and how to go about catching them. This is evidenced by our long debate of whether the fish that settled herself under our anchored boat is a barracuda (yuck) or a wahoo (yum). And let’s not forget the mess of cleaning them up on the boat. No thank you, I will take the easy way out and have my lobster and fish on shore in a restaurant. Although admittedly, now that we are in what they call the “off the beaten path Bahamas Out Islands”, such luxuries as restaurants, stores and marinas are pretty much non-existent. Supplies to these islands come in once a week on a mail boat. A mention of ice cream makes the locals laugh at us in disbelief. How naive. I guess there is a difference between us and the die-hard budget cruisers. After a few days of sailing and anchoring, we are happy to find a nice marina with all the amenities of an “on land” life. I get excited when I read in the cruising guide something like: “the ultimate destination for the free-spirited, adventure traveler seeking an authentic experience without sacrificing the pampered luxury of an exclusive resort” (this is an ad I read for a marina on Rum Cay on the way to the Exumas). Despite it being somewhat of an oxymoron, I think it describes my desired style rather well. However, reality is not that easy. We have noticed that there are many such resorts and marinas advertised, but in reality don’t exist – either they were intended but never started, started but not completed or completed and already destroyed by a hurricane. Such is the reality in the Bahamas. Big ideas, slow progress and the constant threat of mother nature.

The weather forecast calls for an increase in wind and waves and we squeeze in one more night of sailing before tucking in behind the Crooked Island for possibly a day or two to let the weather pass. The trouble with the Out Islands is that they don’t have many decent anchorages. For the same reason, many cruisers end their trip in the sheltered anchorages of Exumas a bit farther north, rather than continuing windward through these islands. We will have to see how well our current anchorage will serve us. We had trouble setting the anchor among the coral heads and Kuno has decided for the first time to put out two anchors for safety. It is gusting 30 knots and we will have to see what tomorrow brings. Regardless, all of us are quite happy to have a break, catch up on uninterrupted sleep, cook more involved meals than Ramen noodle soup that we invariably end up eating while underway and generally do nothing. Just like on a rainy Sunday in Vancouver.

PS: I am posting this from Georgetown, Great Exumas. We made it safely.

Puerto Rico

Puerto Rico
16 June 2008

Arriving from the US Virgin Islands to the island of Culebrita in the Spanish Virgin Islands, our first stop in Puerto Rico, we are greeted by a pod of dolphins playing in our bow wake. Tatiana watches in awe: “I knew we would see dolphins, but I did not expect them to be jumping all the way out of the water!” Although there is much to see in the Spanish Virgins, we only check out the island of Culebra, one of the few hurricane holes in this area, and then continue for the mainland of Puerto Rico. Our brief stop there also allows us to gather information from other cruisers that have sailed through the passages ahead of us. The cruising community is wonderful. I am always amazed to hear the stories of what brings people cruising. We meet retired couples, very young couples, couples that have quit their high paying jobs, families on small boats that have spent years cruising, singlehanders, people that run small business while cruising, you name it. Many of them have no particular plans and cruise with an open end both in terms of destination and time. The spirit of adventure, exploration and desire for simpler, slower and richer life is evident in everyone we talk to. It is revealing to realize how much we are constrained by what we know and feel secure in, and at the same time inspiring as well as humbling to meet all these people that have been able to break free. And none that we have met have had any regrets!

The route planning from here to Ft. Lauderdale takes some thought and studying of charts, as there are different options. Most cruisers take their time to sail around the south of Puerto Rico where there is a lot of anchorages, then cross the notoriously miserable Mona Passage (luckily the notoriously miserable is attributable to the opposite direction than the one we are going in) and continue along the north coast of the Dominican Republic to the last harbour of Luperon as a waypoint to the Bahamas. From there it depends on weather, draft of the boat, time and particular interests, to decide which way to go through the hundreds and hundreds of islands of the Bahamas. Given our time constraints, we opt to sail along the north of Puerto Rico but leave the Bahamas route open for now. We have slipped into the manana mode and are practicing the art of delaying decisions. Even I am getting better at that!!

Once in mainland Puerto Rico, we dock in Fajardo on the eastern coast and explore the inland tropical rainforest, El Yunque. Although small, the canopy and variety of plants is amazing. The rainforest also provides much of the drinking water for the island (what a difference from the taste of the desalinated water on most of the previous islands we visited). After many weeks of being barefoot or in flip flops, we put on our running shoes (that feel very uncomfortable) and set out on two small hikes. At home, these would be considered short walks, but here, in the heat and humidity, it is all we can do. One leads us to a magnificent view from top of a mountain to both coasts and the other to a set of waterfalls with swimming pools. Along the way, we hear the unfamiliar sounds of the rainforest, including the local tree frog (a bit of a mascot for Puerto Rico) coqui, who sounds more like a bird singing “co – qui, co – qui”. We learn that tree frogs do not drink water, rather absorb it through their skin. We also learn about the unique Puerto Rican green parrot that was close to extinction few years ago, but due to diligent efforts their numbers have climbed to several hundreds. It strikes me as interesting that one nearly extinct parrot provides employment for probably fifty people here – they need to be counted, tagged, have nests built for them etc. Unfortunately, our untrained eye sees neither one of these creatures. It doesn’t help that my two children, Tatiana and Kuno, entertain themselves by making loud animal sounds along the way, scaring the real creatures of the forest away.

Full of expectation and excitement, we then sail to old San Juan, a Unesco World Heritage Site. Spellbound, we enter the harbour under the watchful eye of the El Morro fort. I let my thoughts wander to what it must felt like in the 16th century, for pirates and explorers alike, to be entering this harbour as we are now, so many years later, with El Morro as the silent witness. It hasn’t been silent at all times. After all, until the Spanish-American war of 1898, San Juan, with its numerous forts was, with just a very few brief interludes, an unconquered city of Spanish rule, protected by cannon batteries along the still standing forts and walls of the old city. But today the town is friendly and inviting. We spend the next few days exploring its treasures. Old San Juan, with its Spanish colonial architecture of colorfully painted buildings, street side cafes, forts and museums is a true delight. Apparently the restoration project of the old town cost over 100 million dollars. It shows. We observe many buildings being renovated rather than torn down, with just the outside façade remaining. I wonder if that is a condition of being a heritage site. The result is beautiful. Unlike many of the other cruise ship ports we have visited, San Juan has a different vibe, obviously not living for and from the cruise ship business only. The larger San Juan is a modern city with about a million people.


As I flip through my Puerto Rico guide, I discover that there is the largest and most powerful telescope for radio astronomy in the world located at Arecibo in the north-central part of Puerto Rico. I also recognize it in the picture as one of the sets from the James Bond movie Golden Eye. Not to be missed, we set out exploring. The highways in Puerto Rico are wide and fast and it is easy to crisscross the country in a few hours. But driving the back roads as we have done, takes a long time. The central PR is full of what they call “hay stack” hills, limestone peaks and ridges covered in lush vegetation. In some ways it reminds us of landscapes in Asia. We spend hours driving on winding roads, admiring the countryside, as well as the neat villages along the way. Puerto Rico seems to be doing very well and we find people here extremely friendly and helpful. We end up staying overnight in a “zenish” mountain retreat with healthy food, yoga classes, simple cabins and a swimming pool. At night the forest comes alive with all sorts of strange sounds. But the night is cool and refreshing and a welcome change for us.

The Arecibo observatory is a scientist’s dream, but I find the whole thing a bit beyond my understanding. By receiving radio pulses from stars and gas clouds from our and other galaxies in the stationary 305 m diameter reflector, scientists can study phenomena as close as 3 km above us to probing objects 10 billion light years away. Apparently they can receive radio waves that date back to the Big Bang, 14 billion years ago. The exhibits are fascinating, loaded with information, but with my limited knowledge, I find them hard to understand and relate to anything practical. But that must be my mechanical engineering background – I like to see and touch, none of this ancient radio wave stuff. Kuno, on the other hand, is soaking it in and Tatiana has fun with some of the hands on exhibits. While we are at the observatory, a lightning storm starts, giving the whole scene a bit of a surreal feel. Our visit ends with a bit of a shopping spree in the gift shop, where they have all sorts of interesting scientist kits for kids. In a brilliant plot, Tatiana points to the electricity making kit to get me to buy her something (after all, she knows the way to my heart). But knowing better where her interests really lie, we end up with several chemistry kits – after she promises that she will do all of it on the shore, not in the boat.

We also attempt to visit the Rio Camuy caves nearby, where both tourists and serious spelunkers can explore a network of limestone caves, but are told that there was an accident in January and the caves won’t be open to public for several months. Too bad, we were looking forward to descending into a cool cave. It is now 36 degrees and humid.

Puerto Rico, what a beautiful island! In the past, it merely represented a flight layover on our way to other Caribbean destinations. How mistaken were we to keep bypassing this place, so rich with history, nature and charm. Even now, after spending a week here, there is still so much to be explored. As we leave San Juan at night for our long sail to Puerto Plata in the Dominican Republic, the dark El Morro watching us depart, Kuno and I agree that one day we will be back.

US Virgin Islands

US Virgin Islands

6 June 2008

We are on a hunt for Esmeralda; a macaw parrot that is. Inspired by a live one in a resort that we visited in St. John, Kuno and Tatiana are determined to get a wooden copy of Esmeralda to hang from our porch at home. Not a little one, oh no, we are talking a two footer, painted in bright colors. It seems entirely impossible for someone who prides herself on being stylish like me to actually agree for them to buy one. But here we are, in a store in St. Croix, trying to buy Esmeralda that is hanging on a swing from the ceiling. To my relief, the storekeeper says that it is for decoration only, not for sale. Her little grandson, about five years old, then looks with big angelic eyes at Kuno and says very seriously: “It is not for sale. It is attached to the wall. Don’t you know that when things are attached to the wall they are not for sale?” While Tatiana stomps indignantly from the store, Kuno and I are killing ourselves laughing. And I, for one, am thinking, phew, maybe they will forget about Esmeralda in a few days.

We are in the US Virgin Islands. The distance between the British and US Virgin Islands is only a few miles, but for us it feels like entering a different world. After two months of cruising in the heart of the Caribbean, exposed to different foods, attitudes, languages and quality of service, coming to the US side feels in some ways like coming home. Disturbing as a reminder of the excessiveness of the North American lifestyle, but let me tell you, clean washrooms and a well stocked grocery store are a real treat. We first land on St. John Island and the bay where we anchor reminds us of being in Desolation Sound. Enclosed from almost all sides by different islands, the evening anchorage is calm and peaceful. It even starts to drizzle for a while to complete the feeling of being home. St. John, dotted by ruins of past sugar plantations, is now a national park, back in its natural state. The Rockefeller family, who’s presence is noted all over the Virgin Islands, owned and donated large portion of the island for preservation. We swim with huge turtles and sting rays, and snorkel on a reef just off the beach that has some of the most amazing colors and creatures that I have ever seen. he intricacy and detail of the coral reef is amazing. Thousands of tiny fish swim in an ever changing pattern and Tatiana spends the longest time swimming with them and watching them switch their pattern and direction on a flick of her hand or fin, in perfect harmony as if following some invisible conductor.

Craving a day of luxury on land after a few days on anchor, we get crafty and join a timeshare presentation at the prestigious St. John Westin in exchange for the use of their facilities and a voucher for both lunch and dinner in the resort (did I mention that cruisers are a really cheap lot?). And no, despite their well orchestrated efforts, we do not get sucked into purchasing a timeshare, although some of their properties around the world are amazing.

From St. John we hop over to the town of Charlotte Amalie on St. Thomas, the most developed and touristy of the three USVIs. We anchor just a little bit away from the cruise ship pier and every morning wake up to the view of yet another giant (or two). In high season, it would be more like four or five. It is actually quite funny how the town lives in the rhythm of the cruise ships. On days when there is no ship in port, the streets are dead and most stores are closed. On days when a cruise ship is in port, the town is hopping until five o’clock when the ship departs and then the quiet descends again. While a grocery store is nowhere to be seen, there is upwards of 50 jewelry stores in a row, servicing the cruise ships. How they can survive is inconceivable to me despite the low prices and tax free status. To do my part of supporting the local merchants, I too set out on a shopping spree. After two months, several of my items are broken and so I replace my prized Maui Jim polarized sunglasses (that got broken while we were crash landing our dinghy in Barbuda) as well as my camera (that got destroyed during a dinghy crash landing in St. Martin). The watch and the evening dress that also end up in the shopping bag…. well that just sort of happened, I can't blame those on the dinghy. And for Tatiana, two heavy bags of books!!

To mix things up a bit, instead of sailing to St. Croix, the third USVI, we hop on a seaplane and spend two days there as proper tourists, staying at a mosquito infested hotel and speed sightseeing in a rental car. St. Croix is wonderful – relaxed, friendly, full of artists and beautiful historical buildings. The east end of the island is deserty while the west end is lush and contains a tropical rainforest. In the rainforest, hanging air roots from the canopy above the road hit our windshield and gracefully swing by as we drive through them. We spend a long time exploring the Frederickvaern Fort in the main town of Christiansted, the deep turquoise ocean creating a perfect backdrop to its yellow walls. Like most of the town, the Government House is a beautifully restored building from the 18th century. While there, Tatiana takes the opportunity to get sworn in as the new governor, promptly followed by a dance performance in the splendid ballroom.

A bit of an anomaly in the Caribbean, the USVIs were for the longest time owned by Denmark and purchased by the US for strategic reasons only at the onset of the First World War. St. Croix, unlike most other islands, also has a solid economical support in the form of Hovensa – supposedly the largest oil refinery in the Northern Hemisphere. Despite Tatiana’s heavy objections (who could blame her for having two geeky parents), we drive across the island in hopes of a tour of the facility, but find it out of reach behind several layers of barbed wire and no stopping signs. I sneak a few pictures, but feel like any minute I could go to jail if caught. The size of the facility is impressive, yet it seems to blend into the island without destroying its beauty and charm. Instead of the oil refinery tour, we then opt for the much more accessible Cruzan Rum Distillery tour. Tatiana walks around with her nose pinched, as fermenting sugar cane smell permeates the air. It surprises us that the fermentation only takes 24 hours. The process is quite simple, but obviously there are many tricks along the way to get the right product. To great annoyance of the remainder of our tour group, who just want to get to the rum tasting at the end, we ask many questions and often get lost behind some barrel or drum, exploring yet another set of intriguing pipes… Tatiana is embarrassed and now definitely wants a different set of parents. Things don’t improve too much from her point of view when we drag her to the botanical gardens in the lunch time heat, but once we find some interesting specimens that we have never seen before, like the Cannonball tree and the Sausage tree, things start looking up. We have to make a concession though and eliminate the planned sugar plantation tour – apparently she had seen enough of those to last her a lifetime. I have to agree. At lunch Kuno and I browse through the real estate magazines dreaming of what life would be like if… Oh wait, we are living the dream!

Unfortunately, time is no longer on our side and when we return to Charlotte Amalie, it is time to move. We finish a few last chores and leave for the Spanish Virgin Islands in Puerto Rico. We have sailed about 400 miles so far and have about 1200 more to go to reach Ft. Lauderdale. And we are more than halfway through our four months. The math is not adding up favourably. The wind and current will likely be cooperating in this direction, but the stretches between islands and ports are longer and the Bahamas are full of reefs. The forecast of above normal hurricane activity is in the back of my mind as we are planning the route north. The leisurely days of doing nothing will be replaced by deliberate progress toward home now... Puerto Rico, Dominican, Bahamas, Florida.

British Virgin Islands

British Virgin Islands
24 May 2008

“It is time to have some fun” says Kuno as he lugs out a huge blue canvass bag into the cockpit. Where he had it hidden in the boat beats me. But here it is, the gennaker. I have never sailed with one before, only admired their shapes and colors on other boats. Although not symmetrical as spinnakers and used somewhat differently, gennakers too are made from a lightweight fabric to be used in light following winds. They are also prone to trouble. The thought enters my mind that it was a messed up spinnaker that caused a huge upset in the last America Cup, but let’s face it, we are definitely not racing here! Although it is somewhat disconcerting that Kuno is getting his pocket knife handy as part of the preparations. As he starts opening the bag, Tatiana exclaims: “Look, a spare toilet seat!” Now why would we have a spare toilet seat packed away with the gennaker I wonder… to which Kuno not so quietly replies that it is for when you are ready to s... your pants while you are pulling the gennaker up. Ok, I feel much better now. After a good laugh, Kuno explains to us that the toilet seat looking thing is the end of the sock that slides up the sail when it is being pulled up and opened and down when it is time to pack it up. Then he goes over the drill of who attaches what line where and off we go. The gennaker opens itself in the wind like a balloon (without a hitch I might add) and the boat picks up speed, rushing down the waves with the wind. With the gennaker, Blue Moon is surely the most beautiful boat on the water. As we get closer to Jost Van Dyke, the wind starts to shift and it is time to take the gennaker down. Once again we go over the drill and Kuno puts the boat on autopilot so that he can go on the bow and I can get the clew line ready. As the wind shifts once again, the gennaker starts flapping wildly, starting to wrap itself around the stays. I rush to the steering wheel to correct the course, but it takes me a while to take it of autopilot and get the boat to do the right thing. In the meantime, Kuno is lying flat on the deck being attacked by the gennaker yelling at me “The other way, the other way!”. Being the good mate that I am, listening to captain’s orders, I start turning the boat the other way (after all, I was being told many times that I am not to question the captain’s orders!) making things worse. My brain kicks in and I return the boat to the proper course, freeing Kuno from underneath the flapping sail. The rest of the maneuver goes well, while Tatiana pitches in to roll the sail back into the bag. It reminds me a little bit of the scene in Harry Potter of Oliver Wood locking up the quiditch bludger in the suitcase.

And so we eventually arrive on the island of Jost Van Dyke in time to watch Foxy’s Wooden Boat regatta. Foxy is a bit of a legend in the British Virgin Islands, having done much to promote the islands, its people and culture, and of course the art of building wooden boats. No cruiser leaves the island without making a stop at Foxy’s bar, for a drink and a bit of live music. We too pay homage to Foxy with a good Painkiller.

But I am skipping ahead… Our overnight passage from St. Martin to the BVIs was uneventful, other than being a new experience for me in that it was my first full overnight passage. We left at seven in the evening, just as it was getting dark, with mild winds and calm seas. The change from daylight to darkness is very fast here and it takes only two or so minutes for the orange ball to dip behind the horizon. The night was bright with the moon and stars. Tatiana and Kuno held a talk about the concepts of “being present” and the futility of “ego” as we were passing Anguilla. It seemed to be the perfect topic as we were bobbing in our little boat in the middle of the ocean. While Kuno and I swapped between steering and sleeping, Tatiana happily fell asleep for the whole night on the bench in the cockpit. I am envious of her young body that can put up with discomforts without noticing. After a while, I too curled up in front of the steering wheel. Our watch was set to beep in 10 minute intervals, to check the course, look for other boats or anything else that might be in our way and adjust the sails. In between I was mesmerized by the water and the sky, suspended in half sleep, the never ending motion of the waves bringing up all sorts of surreal thoughts. The sun rose just as the silhouette of Virgin Gorda appeared on the horizon. As we neared the islands, the wind started picking up and we saw large waves crashing over the boulders of the famous Baths. We chose to go into a nearby marina instead of anchoring. The idea of a hot, plentiful shower on land was too tempting.

The Baths are an amazing phenomenon. Large granite boulders strewn about in a haphazard way on the edge of the water, creating caves and passages above clear pools of water that rushes in through the invisible openings between the rocks with every incoming wave. It looks like a giant’s play, but in real life, it was created in a volcanic explosion that spewed all sorts of materials, including the granite boulders, in a path toward the ocean. Over time, the softer materials were eroded and only the granite boulders left, heaped on top of each other. We explore and play at the end of the day in the rich colors of the setting sun. All the tourists are gone now and we have the place to ourselves. Tatiana leads the way, finding the most impossible passages for us to crawl through, laughing at us struggling to fit in from the other end.

We spend a few days in a place called Bitter End in the North Sound. The Sound is fringed by several islands, including Richard Branson’s private Necker Island. I suppose that is where the name for Virgin Airlines comes from. We tie up in front of the Bitter End Resort and Yacht Club. It has all sorts of amenities, but most importantly it has a swimming pool. One would think that with the largest swimming pool around us, the ocean, Tatiana would be content… alas, fresh water is still preferred. One night we join a beach party with live reggae music where Tatiana wins a limbo contest. Unfortunately the prize is a bottle of rum and they don’t deem it appropriate for a ten year old. Shame really, there never is enough rum on a boat. In fact, the British Navy had a long standing tradition from the seventeenth century of distributing daily rations of rum that was only abolished in the 1970’s! The name of the famous Pusser’s Rum is in fact a corruption of the word “purser”. A purser is in charge of the stores on a ship. Yo ho ho.

It is rather amazing how easily one can slip into doing nothing and our days unfold alarmingly fast despite the fact that not much happens. We read a lot, swim, eat and do crafts. Occasionally Tatiana does a bit of schoolwork. Opportunely, we are right now practicing angles and degrees on a compass rose. And we play a lot with stuffies. Here they are having a line climbing contest. You might also notice that our stuffies have little knitted scarves around their necks, some even have a sweater. Amazing what one does when there is a lot of time on hand! Arrrr mateys.

St. Barthelemy

13 May 2008

Our stern is getting awfully close to the neighboring boat and Kuno still does not have the bow tied to the buoy. It is time to start relying on raw power instead of skill and I reluctantly push the lever far forward and reverse again to gain some control of the boat in the narrow channel strewn with other boats and buoys. In an opportune moment, just as Kuno cleats the bow, I run to the back and finish tying us to the stern buoy. Sweat is running down my back as I exhale in relief. We are secured now, back in Port of Gustavia on the island of St. Barts and this is a repeat rendition from our November visit of tying up between two moorings in the harbour that must pride itself on getting as many boats in as possible. It of course assumes completely competent crew, which I am not. Last November, while attempting to tie up, we dropped our hastily extended 40 foot line in the water with the engine running, after we realized that it wasn’t long enough. It wasn’t pretty. So when it was time to chose between handling the lines or the boat this time, I went for the boat. But this time, luckily, we are assigned by the harbour master a spot with moorings closer together, more appropriate for our boat size. And so we are settled in now without a scratch to us or anyone else and the wonderful world of fancy St. Barts awaits us.

St. Barts has an interesting history. It was fought over by the British, French and Spanish, despite the fact that it doesn’t have enough water and was not suitable for agriculture. It, however, has a strategic position at the entrance to the Caribbean. It is said that many pirates used to come here to spend their loot. Well, even today one could spend a fortune here, prices of anything on this island almost require one. In the mid 18th century the French exchanged St. Barts for a port in Europe with the Swedes and for about 100 years, the island ended up being a Swedish free port before being resold back to France. Today, it is part of France and it is a spectacular hangout for the rich and famous. I haven’t been to France, but Kuno says St. Barts is “frencher” than France. I think he secretly really likes the French women here – all skinny, tall and very chic. If I was to pick an island in the Caribbean to live on, it would be St. Barts (except that I would have to finally learn French). Not only does St. Barts have beautiful landscape with both peaceful and wild beaches, underwater natural reserves, hilly green countryside with super narrow roads, that reason would tell us are too steep to drive, and driveways that rival West Vancouver (minus the snow problem), it also seems to have a well developed community with arts and active social life. We are struck by how many young families are living in St. Barts – there are strollers and small kids everywhere, prompting Tatiana to comment that there must be a convention on “How to become great parents” going on (with a cheeky hint in her voice that we must have missed that course ourselves). Gustavia must be the most picturesque harbour in the Caribbean. The town perfectly encloses the harbour on three sides with boardwalks lined by restaurants, bars and stores. Boats are tied stern or bow to all along the edges, as well as in the middle of the harbour. It has a very European feel. The protected feeling of the harbour is deceiving though and Gustavia has a constant swell going through it and the boats are moving continuously back and forth stretching the lines to the max. I must be getting used to it, as the motion, in small doses is comforting (unlike the disco that starts right across from our boat around midnight and keeps us awake into the early hours one night). The stores are full of beautiful stuff, be it food or clothes, very different from what we would find in North American stores. And food in the restaurants does full justice to the French reputation. I am surprised we are not yet spilling out of our clothes, but Kuno insists that the climbing around the boat keeps us in shape. Well, that is his story. I am just happy there is no scale on the boat!

We end up staying for five days, just loafing around. In the mornings we go for breakfast to the local bakery, enjoying an espresso with freshly baked baguette and croissants, watching the comings and goings of the locals. And in the afternoon we sit at our favourite bar La Route des Boucaniers at the edge of the harbour, eating ice cream and playing cards. It is wonderful to have the luxury of “doing nothing”. A cross Atlantic sailing race Transat ag2r from France is scheduled to arrive in Gustavia, but as the wind does not cooperate, the arrival is being delayed every day. Despite the delay, the festivities go on, with all sorts of exhibits and live music. Technology is amazing and we watch the strategy and progress of the boats on a giant screen (as well as internet) as it unfolds.

One day we rent a car, well, more like a remnant of a car – I don’t think I have ever had a ride in such a beater, and drive around the island to the few places that we have not visited in November. It is a relief that the brakes seem to work, unlike the roof that almost flies off when we try to open it and the lock to the trunk that leaves the car attached to the key as Kuno tries to pull the key out after locking our possessions inside. We discover a beautiful wild beach, Anse de Grand Fond, and spend the afternoon playing in the shade of the overhanging cliffs, building sandcastles (this time the competition is who can build the fanciest Caribbean villa) and watching two young guys getting beat up in the surf as they ride and jump the waves.

Mothers Day made it to St. Barts! Ladies, this may sound as sacrilege, but getting a 12V vacuum cleaner for Mother’s day is in fact a wonderful gift. That is, if you are living on a boat with no access to shore power. Which I am! And so, after a wonderful breakfast spread and a very yummy rum cake from Tatiana, I happily vacuum the whole boat (as Kuno painfully watches the battery being run down), limited only by the length of the cord. Alas, a new job is on the horizon for Kuno – we need an additional 12V outlet in the aft cabin so that I can vacuum there too. As a treat for Mother’s Day, I walk around town checking out the boutiques, feeling completely inadequate both financially and physically. That sounds like an oxymoron, but I have fun anyway. To improve my looks, I buy myself a hat – Kuno says I now look very French!

We sadly say goodbye to Gustavia and leave for a brief stop in St. Martin before we will set out for an overnight sail to the Virgin Islands. Just as we are leaving the harbour, two giant turtles swim by, poking their heads out of the water as if to wish us fair winds.

Barbuda, the forgotten island

8 May 2008

The darkness is disorienting as I am trying to keep to a course Kuno carefully set out in the evening before our departure. Just a sliver of a new moon is dangling in the distance, inviting Tatiana to hop on, as if into a hammock, to dream, cuddling her favourite bunny. Even the stars have lost their sparkle from earlier in the evening. Now it is very dark. Before I find my bearings, I make the boat turn twice in a circle, prompting Kuno to jump up in a moment of concern. Reefs are on both sides and in the blackness of the night there is nothing to guide us other than the carefully planned course on chart and the GPS. We are leaving Barbuda, returning to civilization of the French island of St. Barths, and this is my first nighttime sail. Once we get through the reefs, moving through the nothingness, being gently picked up and dropped down by the waves coming from behind becomes very soothing.

I call Barbuda the forgotten island. Forgotten by tourists that is. It is as laid back as I have ever encountered. It doesn’t have the hotels, bars and other tourist attractions that other islands offer, just miles and miles of deserted beaches. It also doesn’t have a very good anchorage and our nights are rolly in the northerly swell. It is a good thing we have a foam mattress top that makes us “stick” to the bed. Even then though, after several nights of it, I am looking forward to a night in a calmer place.

Talking to people in Barbuda and reading up on it in our various guides, I can’t help but wonder what the island’s future will bring. There is no infrastructure, nor potential for solid economy other than one based on tourism. Barbuda is an exception in the region and has elected to not go the tourism route. Ownership of land is non-existent. All properties are leases and any development is discouraged (sometimes in a somewhat militant way). The only source of income is export of sand. The sand in Barbuda is beautiful, tinged with pink of the broken shells and corals. But exporting sand?? Barbuda is apparently supplying all of the Caribbean with sand for building and beaches. We witnessed large barges leaving the island as we were sailing to Barbuda. One has to wonder what it will eventually do to the island. There is no way that this amount of sand can be replaced naturally. Some old-timers have mentioned that they notice the shrinking beaches. The only other source of employment on the island is the government itself. In a typical Caribbean fashion, countless government offices dot the only town, Codrington, and are literally stuffed with staff that have nothing to do. Efficiency is not important here and when we want to check out from the island, we have to walk in the lunch time heat all around town to three different offices. Lengthy forms, manual copying, stamps and signatures are the order of the day, yet I saw a Blackberry on one of the desks and people are busy talking on cellphones in the most unexpected places and situations. The government jobs must pay reasonably well, as we see some very nice cars and generally people seem to live well for a Caribbean standard. Yet all of this is financed by the sand… Recently, exporting lobster has become a growing industry, but we all know how lasting that can be.

But for now, the forgotten island is a string of nearly perfect beaches, ringed by several reefs and mostly known for one of the largest frigate bird colonies. 19 thousand pairs of frigates come here from October to May to mate and raise their one off-spring each. The males take care of the babies for the first few weeks, but after a while, they leave for another colony in Yucatan (party time?) until it is time to mate again. Then the good old moms take over. The chicks are not ready to fly and be independent until they are at least 8 months old and as a result frigates have babies only every second year. They live to be 40 years. The frigates are magnificent fliers with wings spanning up to 8 feet. They fish by scooping fish from the surface. If they are unfortunate enough to fall into the water, they cannot fly off by themselves and if unaided by other birds lifting them from the water, they will die.

We got to visit the colony within the mangroves of a lagoon in the northern part of Barbuda with one of the local guides. Amazingly, we ended up within arm’s reach of the chicks, with their mothers sitting right next to them calmly watching. Frigates don’t have any predators and are unafraid of people. This little guy in the picture is about 3 months old, patiently waiting for some food.

One day, while Kuno snorkeled the reef, Tatiana and I were playing in the water close to the beach, when we saw a most intriguing sight. A see-through, purple and pink inflated object, merrily floating on the water, propelled by wind. It looked like a kids toy and my first reaction was to go pick it up. As I got close I could see that this was no toy, as the “body” of the object was rhythmically inflating and constricting. A quick look with goggles under the water revealed long dark blue curled tentacles on one side of the body. Beautiful in a very creepy and unreal way, I have never seen such a creature before. Tentacles are usually bad news, so needless to say, we didn’t feel like going snorkeling after that and Tatiana is still reluctant to get in the water now, few days later. A bit of research uncovered that it was a venomous Portugese Man-o-War (this picture is from Wikipedia), often mistaken for a jellyfish. Its stinging tentacles can be more than 30 feet long (I know I was closer then that observing it… lucky). A sting to humans can cause extreme pain at best, death at worst. Yikes! How can something so beautiful be so deadly?

So instead of snorkeling, we searched for coconuts and after some serious coconut throwing against a stump, Tatiana succeeded in cracking one open, giving us a taste of coconut water (I have to say, that has to be an acquired taste) and delicious coconut “meat”. Later on we tried to lure a giant turtle that lived in our anchorage and faithfully broke the surface every 15 minutes or so, closer to the boat with bits of the coconut, but it didn’t work. Neither did bread or cucumber.

Barbuda is flat as a pancake and when sailing up to it, not visible until the last 5 miles on a clear day. But it has what is called the “Highlands”, all of 125 ft high. Our family, being of a mountain goat kind, had to scale these peaks and so we set off to the other side of the island. We climbed through a cave from the beach to the top of the Highlands for a beautiful view of the rugged side of the island, with nothing but the expanse of the Atlantic ahead of us until Africa. Beautiful, but not inviting.

On our way back we stopped at the only internet place in Codrington to check the weather and wind forecast. It was closed, but somebody mentioned that we should ask in the grocery store. To our amazement, the grocery store person just left with us to go to the internet place. After she opened up and started two computers, she gave us the key and asked us to lock up and bring the key back to the grocery store when done. It doesn’t get much more laid back than that.

People are very nice here although carrying a conversation is a bit tricky. To every question that we have, we get only the most minimalistic answer possible, without really getting the real story. It goes something like this:
Us to a man in a store: “Do you know how we can organize a tour to the frigate colony?”
He: “The guide was just here a moment ago.”
Us, waiting in vain for more information: “How can we contact him?”
He: “He was just here.”
Us: “Do you know where we can find a guide, any guide?”
He: “He is the main guide.”
Us: “He is the main guide, ok. Where does he live?”
He: “On the other side of the lagoon, he is the main guide.”
Us looking pointedly at his cellphone: “Is there a way to contact him?” (note that everybody knows everybody on this island)
He: “Yeah, he lives on the other side of the lagoon.” (note the lagoon is several miles long)
Us leaving… tour to be arranged differently. By now I am laid back as well. Survival instinct.