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.

Antigua - Stanford Race Week

30 April 2008

“Our boat really is quite small!” exclaimed Kuno as we were returning to our boat, now back in Falmouth Harbour, following yet another excursion along the docks to check out the amazing array of boats. The Stanford Sailing Race Week, one of the largest annual regattas in the Caribbean, is on and the place is buzzing. We can see anything from 100+ ft racer cruisers, to pure racing machines of all sizes, to super fast “around the world solo” kind of trimarans, you name it. We recognize some of the boats from pictures in magazines. While the size of our boat has become a bit of a joke in the last two weeks, this time there was a hint of seriousness in Kuno’s voice. Footitis already? We just bought this boat! Fair enough, we are the smallest boat on the dock, in fact, one cannot even see the boat in between the docks – they are too high, set up for much bigger boats. And it is also true that the size of our boat is almost the same size as some of the tenders we have seen here. But I like her. And we don’t need a crew to sail it (although I could sure use a crew to clean it).

Since we are spending quite a bit of time in Antigua, we rented a car and are exploring the island on land. Driving is an adventure in itself, considering that one drives on the left side and our car is a manual. This is beyond my coordination skills, so Kuno does all the driving. He often ends up signaling a turn by turning on windshield wipers instead, as the levers are opposite, and the gear box is hoping for a British tourist next time. Since our last trip to Antigua about 6 years ago, not much has changed, but there are more paved roads. More is relative, as in two days, we managed to drive pretty much all the roads on the island. There is a beautiful small, hilly portion of the island with a lot of greenery and forest. Driving along one of the roads we felt we could just lean out of the window and grab a ripe mango of the loaded, giant mango trees lining the road. But majority of the island is covered in brush, remainder of land cleared for sugar planting. Ruins of windmills are dotting the landscape and we get to explore the machinery of one of them. Originally, the windmill powered 3 vertical crushing drums and with two passes it extracted only 60% of the juice. Later, they switched to 3 horizontal drums and improved extraction to 80% with one pass of the sugar cane. From the mill, juice was pumped to the boiling houses. Even Tatiana got interested in figuring the process out. The whole sugar and rum production was quite ingenious for the time. Too bad that is has such a dark side.

The beaches in Antigua are truly amazing and the water is much warmer than in Montserrat. Tatiana loves playing in the surf and can stay in for hours. The biggest challenge is to get her out of the water long enough to put more sunscreen on. We spend endless time digging channels and building sandcastles, only to be thwarted by some errant wave washing it all away.

We had fun visiting the fruit and vegetable market in the capital, St. John. They had items I have never seen before. The funniest was a fruit called Stinky – not something I was willing to experiment with. My resulting culinary explorations will be the topic of a separate blog.
In Falmouth Harbour we discovered a really neat printing shop whose business was to supply all the crew shirts to the race boats. Catching the bug, we decided to get some “Blue Moon” shirts printed for ourselves as mementos. Not to mention that Kuno pretty much destroys one t-shirt every two days, as it is virtually impossible to wash out the gobs of sunscreen, engine oil and tomato sauce that he slaps on regularly, so we needed some new ones anyway. We got to study the printing mechanics and Tatiana watched her own shirt being made.

But after five days in Falmouth and English Harbour, it is time to move on. I am anxious to get to Barbuda and enjoy some quiet anchorages. I have been waiting for some quiet time to start painting, but so far there is always something more pressing to do. We spend the last day doing all sorts of chores. The trouble with boats is that you start working on one thing and discover three more that need doing. Like Kuno spilling several liters of water all over the floor while trying to install a drinking water filter, which led to lifting the floor boards and cleaning out tons of sand and hair and other stuff, that I didn’t even want to identify, and while we were at it, removing copper strips under the boards that were poorly installed for an SSB radio at some point in Blue Moon’s history. And on it goes, life of a sailor. The laundry needs to be done in the kitchen sink, the propane and water tanks refilled, the dinghy gas and the steering fluid replenished… the list remains long. But eventually we lift the anchor and have a wonderful beam sail back to Jolly Harbour. We pass a huge turtle in the water on the way, but no dolphins today. Back in Jolly on buoy, Kuno returns in the dinghy from an errand and as we start our lunch, we hear our neighbour shout “Dinghy, dinghy…!” As we look up, we see our dinghy floating away in the middle of the channel, propelled away by a gentle breeze. It is good to have vigilant neighbours that also lend a hand in the rescue. And really, after spending many years sailing, you would think Kuno would know that just stepping off a dinghy without tying it to the boat is not very practical.

Antigua - Classic Race Week

24 April 2008, Antigua

Arriving in Antigua feels welcoming. The wind and swell have somewhat settled, allowing us a glorious, albeit slow, sail from Montserrat. I almost forgot how comfortable sailing can be. The water is many shades of turquoise blue, lined with white sand beaches and the coast dotted with bays for anchoring. Visitor brochures claim that Antigua has 365 beaches – one for every day of the year. We will sample as many as we can during our planned 3 week stay. Antigua is nice because it has a bit of everything. History tied to Lord Nelson, who was stationed here early in his career (hating it) in late 18th century, remnants of sugar plantations and rum distilleries, incredible beaches and even an amazing cricket stadium for sport fans. And let’s not forget the amenities – supermarkets for provisioning and a laundry, sorely needed by us after three weeks. I like the way laundry is done here. Drop off three bags of dirty laundry with a dinghy in the morning, pick up three bags of clean laundry at lunch time. Very civilized.

And let’s not forget the internet. It is a bit of a hit and miss to get free wireless on the way, but so far we have been able to keep in touch on a regular basis. But in Falmouth Tatiana got to Skype some of her friends and that made her very happy (and no, she is not drinking beer!).

The Classic Race Week is on, and Falmouth Harbour is jam-packed with boats either racing or watching. We join the crowd of ogglers. The classic boats are magnificent, although only a few are really original classics. Most are brand new, high end, classic racing machines, manned by paid crew. The size of the equipment on these boats is incredible – we saw winches 0.5m in diameter! The spare equipment – chains, anchors, sails and anything else heavy, is lying on the docks to lighten the load for the races and crews are busy cleaning and polishing at the end of the day. Then its party time.

After a few days of hanging around Falmouth and English Harbour, exploring Nelson’s dockyard with all its restored buildings and shipyard equipment and scrambling up to Shirley Heights for an incredible view (Blue Moon is somewhere down there), it is time to explore further up the coast. It is only an hour sail up to Mamora Bay tucked in behind a reef, but we get to see the first dolphins under our bow and whales splashing in the distance. Mamora has a nice resort and apparently we can get “room service” on the boat if we tie up on their dock. But I must be turning cheap (the ultimate cruising life is rubbing off on me) and choose to anchor and cook instead. We switch our usual positions and this time I am dropping the anchor and Kuno is driving. And wouldn’t you know, we drive over the dinghy line, wrapping it in the propeller. I guess there is a first for everyone! Luckily no damage is done and the line untangles quite easily. Every opportunity is good for a rum punch and this one calls for a strong one. We observe a family of birds trying to make a nest inside our boom for a while and then its off to the resort beach and join in a game of volleyball. Another day in paradise, with all its challenges and pleasures.

Montserrat

18 April 2008, Montserrat

We celebrated Tatiana’s 10th birthday just before our departure from Nevis. Decorating a boat with streamers and balloons is a challenge, but it has to be done. It is a sore point with Tatiana that she has not celebrated her birthday at home for the last 5 years, but by now we have established a routine for birthday celebrations while traveling. Presents in the morning, playing with “stuffies” and games until it is time to go find a swimming pool and a nice dinner out in the evening. Can you guess her favourite present from the picture?

The sea was a little bit more forgiving on our way to Montserrat, at least in the size of the swell if not in the direction of the wind. The competitive spirit set in early on, as several other boats left Nevis at the same time, but eventually all ended up going in different directions and we were alone on our way past Redonda to Montserrat. A foul smell attacked us about three hours into the trip and I chased Kuno to check the head, as surely something must have gone wrong (and there was no way I was going down there). But all was fine and it dawned on us that this was the welcome from the volcano at Montserrat – and we were still two hours away!

But Montserrat surprised us. The beauty and devastation are both striking. A small island to begin with, only one third of it is now in use, the rest contained in an “Exclusion Zone”, where access is prohibited. The volcano has been continually active since 1995, burying the main town of Plymouth in mud, ashes and lava in 1997. In one place, only the steeple of an old church can be seen peeking out and there are whole areas where nothing can be seen under the 20 – 30 ft of deposit. Even now the volcano is alive, with the last outburst as late as this January. This left Montserrat with no economy, as both the sea port and cruise ship terminal were in Plymouth and the airport on the other side of the volcano was also wiped out. The land in Montserrat is incredibly fertile and we stocked up on all sorts of fruit directly from the trees, including tamarind, which we have never tasted before. Breadfruit and mangoes are so abundant that there are not enough people on the island to consume it all, but no set up industry to export it either. People are still leaving with only 5000 residents remaining, although heavy financial support is flowing in from Britain of which Montserrat is still part. A completely new town is being built in the safe zone, but this area is hilly and too rugged for agriculture. And there really is no infrastructure to attract tourists other than the divers and cruisers as us, with only a few small hotels and local restaurants open.

Our driver also showed us the Waterworks Studio, belonging to George Martin, where Beatles and Mick Jagger used to record. It is now in disrepair and we wondered through the empty rooms and recording studio with remnants of equipment and even some tapes strewn about. The setting was beautiful, up in the hills, with view of the ocean (and probably lot of pot growing in the garden) – great for inspiration. But as the rest of the island, the beauty is tinged with devastation.

At the end of our visit in Montserrat we played on a beautiful beach close to where we were anchored in Little Bay and discovered perfectly black sand. I have never seen anything like it and Tatiana and Kuno had tons of fun rolling in it, looking like they had stockings or wetsuits on. An appropriate end to a great visit of an island that many cruisers bypass.

St. Kitts and Nevis

11 April 2008 St. Kitts and Nevis

“I dropped your propeller and can’t find it!” called out the diver as he emerged from underneath our boat. Anchored in Simpson Bay, finally almost on our way, we had just one last chore to do – change the propeller. We should have known there was a problem the moment the diver brought out a hammer instead of a propeller puller. However, this is Caribbean and things are done differently, we reasoned. Luckily, after a while the propeller was found, changed, and Blue Moon is a happier boat under power, not to mention Kuno, who likes to tweak all things mechanical!


We left Philipsburg on St. Maarten still in the dark, hoping to put in some miles behind us before Tatiana woke up. But the sea and wind weren’t very kind to us and we spent the next ten hours rather uncomfortably, in big swell, on close reach to the wind, occasionally pelted by rain and large waves spilling into the cockpit. It dawned on me that doing a big ocean crossing really wasn’t something that I was interested in, 10 hours was long enough for me. We passed the islands of St. Barth’s in the distance, Saba and St. Eustacius quite close by and finally landed on St. Kitts. Volcanoes dominate the landscape of all of these islands, making them easily visible and recognizable. But neither Saba nor Statia have a decent anchorage in this weather and so we decided to bypass them. We will visit St. Barth’s, my favourite island, on our way back up.

After the necessary customs and immigration hoopla, we were free to explore the island. And so we hopped on the “Sugar Train”, built in 1926 to transport sugar cane from across the island into the port. The landscape in St. Kitts is dotted with remnants of old windmills and chimneys from the sugar plantations, now mostly in ruins or converted into hotels. An impressive fort, Brimstone Hill, is guarding the entrance to the island, fought over by the British and French. Sugar cane is left to grow wild all over the island to prevent erosion but is no longer a viable economy. What struck us about St. Kitts is how much friendlier people are than on St. Maarten. St. Kitts and Nevis are celebrating 25 years of independence from Britain and it seems that their government is doing a good job. Health care and education are paid for by the state (we admired the colorful creole school uniforms, so much more fun than Tatiana’s plain navy blue), as well as “rent to own” housing; overall the island seems fairly prosperous. This year St. Kitts added a cruise ship terminal and so we woke up in the shadow of a big cruise ship that arrived early in the morning. Observing the frantic cruise ship visitors trying to get as much activity in as possible before the afternoon departure, we were happy just sitting in a street café, sampling local beef patties and playing cards. We are slowly settling down, just hanging out…

St. Maarten

6 April 2008, Island Water World Marina, Simpson Bay Lagoon, St. Maarten

The halyards on the neighbouring boats keep waking us up in the gusting wind. The boats make all kinds of noises in the wind, muffled during the day but very loud at night. Strange at first, they become familiar after the first few nights. Every once in a while a rain squall comes through, bringing a whiff of wonderful cool air into the boat. The wind is unusual this time of the year. It surprised us getting out of the airport, almost bowling Tatiana over. A bit extreme, even for sailing. On top of it, no sailboats can get into or out of the Simpson Bay lagoon where Blue Moon is docked. In the strong wind the two bridges that connect the lagoon to the open ocean cannot be opened. And so there is an air of waiting around us, everyone taking time to fix whatever needs fixing before the next passage. I feel sorry for those that have come for a week or two of a vacation, but for us, time right now doesn’t seem to matter. Tatiana calls me “timeless” as I have given up on wearing a watch. We spend our days provisioning, eating ice cream and exploring the island, while Kuno is putting up the dinghy davits and solar panels. Oh yes, and let’s not forget the obligatory fixing of the head (gasket failure), power outage (that I have caused) and a sundry of other usual sailor’s chores. Turns out he forgot a box with many of the fittings and right size screws for the davits. Uncharacteristically, this gets him quite flustered. It is a good thing that there is a marine store at the entrance to our dock. By now we have opened an account there to get a bulk discount, as Kuno keeps running for yet another gadget back and forth on a regular basis. But as of yesterday evening, the davits are up, solar panels are assembled (although not quite yet connected), sails are up, dinghy is in the water and generally things are looking up.

Kuno and I celebrated our 11th anniversary in style – French cousine on a Caribbean beach. For me, it doesn’t get much better. In fact the island of Sint Maarten/St. Martin (belonging to Netherland Antilles and France) is fantastic that way. It has beautiful beaches, great food (I am finding European goodies in the supermarket that I haven’t seen since I was a kid) and tres chic French boutiques. Too bad the type of clothes that would look great here would look very strange back at home. And so I am just window shopping. And let’s not forget boat ogling. Next to the amazing selection of mega yachts, both sail and power, our beautiful 40ft Blue Moon looks like a little toy boat. But for us, she is starting to feel like home (a very small home as Tatiana keeps reminding us).

Here is a picture of Tatiana in the pullman cabin – her “room”. Kuno was a bit incredulous when I was packing new polka dotted sheets, pink decorative pillows, neon green floor mat, bunch of Hannah Montana posters and what seemed like a full library of books (not to mention of Archie comics), but Tatiana’s exclamation “I love my room!” proved it was worth it. Tonight we went to see a local dance school production of Hairspray (only those with pre-teen daughters probably have an idea of what I am talking about). It was excellent – either that or the rum punch we had just before was very potent!

Tomorrow is our last day before we take off from St. Martin. The wind is slowly settling down and the bridges are back to the twice a day opening schedule. Our “to do” list for tomorrow is still long, but experience tells us that on a boat the list is never done. Kind of like owning a house, except the consequences of something breaking are different. But by now we are keen to get going. By Tuesday, we should be on our way to St. Kitts.

Blue Moon

This is Blue Moon - our home for the next four months, proudly flying the Canadian flag. I wonder if she is as anxious to get going as we are (well, two of us anyway, with Tatiana still sitting on the fence about this latest adventure). Finding her in the fall was rather serendipitous. After searching the “boats for sale” websites for many weeks… there she was, a navy hull, centre cockpit, 40ft beauty named Blue Moon. The same name that our old boat here in the Pacific Northwest had. In our minds, we bought her long before the papers were signed. It was meant to be.

Only ten more days to go. For the first time in many weeks, I am actually crossing off more items from my “to do” list than adding. Most purchases are completed, insurance covered, house-sitting and grass cutting taken care of, next year extracurricular activities registered, mail forwarded, bills prepaid etc etc. A huge heap of stuff to take with us sits in the middle of our hallway; it is a good thing that we have no time for visitors these days, they would be appalled at the shape of our household. Dinners consist of food that needs to be used up from the freezer and Tatiana is fully resigned to the fact that these days mommy and daddy have no time for goofing around. Thursday was Tatiana’s last day of school for the school year. Next stop: Grade 5 in September. I can’t say that she is very happy about that, she is worried about missing her friends and falling behind in school. One part of me thinks: what kind of a kid would not want to skip school for three months, but the other part of me undertands. From her point of view, this must be hard. Mommy and daddy go only so far as playmates. Kuno is frantically researching weather and communications. One would think that these days, there would be a simple, financially reasonable solution, but it isn’t so. To satellite or not to satellite, that is the question. Allas, most of the time I have no idea what he is talking about as there is a clear division in our family – he looks after the fun technical stuff and I look after the boring, responsible stuff like house and insurance. Then again, he is the captain and I am just the mate (well, at least in this case).

Renata