March, April 2018, Anguilla, Sint Maarten, St Barts, St Kitts, Nevis
March, April 2018: Anguilla, Sint Maarten, St Barts, St Kitts, Nevis Friday 23 March 2018, St Croix to Anguilla, 92 miles, 19 hours, 4.84 knots average speed Total Miles since departing Falmouth in August 2016: 10510 An interesting start to our overnight passage to Anguilla; a potential rescue mission. No sooner we were clear of the anchorage and beyond the hazardous reefs of St Croix we heard a Pan Pan (next call down from a Mayday) being broadcast on the VHF radio, by the US Coastguard. “A possible overturned vessel, 30 feet long, possible people in the water, 4 nautical miles Northwest of St Croix, request assistance from vessels in the vicinity”. We called the Coastguard for the exact position and confirmed we would divert to the coordinates given. It was in the opposite direction from our heading, but we were only an hour away and could possibly have been the only vessel in the area. If ever we were in the same situation we’d be grateful of someone going out of their way to assist! A small cargo ship, 8 miles away also diverted to assist plus another sailing yacht. Through the binoculars I saw what initially looked like a fin. As we approached, the fin was actually the root of a very large tree. We assumed a plane had reported the possible upturned vessel and from the air the root and trunk could easily have looked like the rudder and hull of an upside-down boat. We reported the sighting to the Coastguard and continued to search the area just in case the two were not connected. The Coastguard rib arrived on the scene. They instructed us to stand-down as would continue the search, along with a small plane that had also arrived. By this time it was getting dark and there was not much more we could do so we set our course and headed for Anguilla. We didn’t hear confirmation of an upturned vessel being found so can only assume the tree was the sighting.
It was a pretty uneventful night passage; plodding along with the motor on due to lack of wind. On my shift the following morning I decided it would be a nice surprise for Ken if I caught a fish for lunch. Soon after deploying the line the rod bent nearly double indicating a definite catch. I hoped for a nice little tuna or similar, certainly nothing too big I’d have to wake Ken to assist (he’d only just gone to bed after his 1am to 5am shift). What a disappointment, yet another Barracuda, third one in a row ☹. My dilemma was how I was going to get it off the hook without it sinking its dirty great teeth into my delicate little hands! Previously Ken had held the fish while I put a piece of wood in its mouth to stop it biting and removed the hook. This would not be possible without assistance. I know women can multitask but simply not enough hands for this one! *PING* - Vodka! I remembered the vodka trick. I would squirt vodka - let me rephrase - cheap vodka, into its gills to make it sleepy, then once it had stopped thrashing about I’d quickly remove the hook and throw it back. Bingo, success with no bloodshed, however, no lunch either. Note to self – change lure to one that doesn’t attract Barracuda!
Anguilla looked amazing with its long white sandy beaches along the coastline. Most of the island is privately owned and there is only one harbour, Road Bay, that is free to anchor. The cruising permit for the rest of the island is extortionate so we would stay put and explore by land. Having secured the anchor we headed ashore to check in with customs and immigration, for a relatively small fee, then to a bar for Wi-Fi. On return to Lady Rebel we called by a boat flying an English red ensign – Grey Goose, Steve and Rick, who invited us aboard for sundowners.
The following day, after a night of no sleep whatsoever due to the swell causing the boat to roll, Ken went ashore for Wi-Fi, to watch Tigers beat Wasps while I got the boat ready for a friend joining us in Sint Maarten. We took a taxi to shoal bay that reportedly has the best snorkelling on the island, in turquoise waters, coral reefs lying just off its long white sandy beach. Sure enough the scenery was breath-taking however it was too windy to snorkel; the waves crashing against the reefs.
An American couple kindly gave us a lift to Rendezvous Beach on the opposite coast, that would be more sheltered. The snorkelling however was far from good on three counts! The first, there were no reefs and the visibility was poor due to churned up sand, secondly, my brand new expensive mask that I’d bought for scuba diving, kept fogging up – good job I have my dad’s old one for snorkelling – much better. They clearly don’t make them like they used to!! Thirdly, the waterproof bag containing our phones, wallets, the dinghy platform remote control and my camera, proved not to be waterproof. Fortunately our phones were inside inner bags that saved them, our wallets and soggy dollars could dry out, however, my camera and the remote control were write-offs. I was gutted about my good old faithful camera. I would now have to commandeer Ken’s new waterproof camera and we would have to operate the dinghy platform by plugging in a control – far less posey or practical!
On checking out, Ken got told off by customs as we had stayed an extra day without informing them – whoops! Our next port was Simpson Bay, Sint Maarten just a 13 mile sail away. The island is split into two parts. Last year we moored in Marigot Bay, St Martin, on the French side. This time we chose the Dutch side. It was $40 to check in, more expensive than the French side, but more convenient (or so we thought), for collecting Martin, our sailing friend joining us for two weeks, from the airport. During the few days prior to his arrival we made the obligatory visit(s) to the chandlers to purchase boring boat bits, like a toilet pump, hose, generator isolator etc. and an exciting visit to the dive shop where Ken kitted us out with dive gear – BCD’s (buoyancy control device), regulators for breathing, emergency regulators, depth and air pressure consoles (air pressure indicating amount of air left in the tank) and a compass. We already have fins, wetsuits, masks and snorkels. We will initially need to hire oxygen tanks, but dive shops are plentiful in the Caribbean so this shouldn’t be an issue. We provisioned for food and drink and gave Lady Rebel a much needed and overdue spring clean. Roman Abramovich’s old super yacht Le Grand Bleu, was moored in the harbour. He allegedly lost her in a gamble to a female business associate! On the port side she carries a 22 metre long sailing yacht and on the starboard side a very large motor yacht. They make the jet skis and speed boats she also carries, look like Lego toys!
The hurricane devastation was still very visible with bars, restaurants, hotels, houses, marinas, sailing and motor yachts completely destroyed.
On 1 April we caught the bus to Maho beach next to the airport with the intention of taking a photograph of Martin coming in to land. There are large warning signs on the perimeter fence separating the beach from the runway explaining the danger of the force of the jet engines from planes taking off. We didn’t imagine for one minute it could be that bad so were ready with our cameras as a large plane taxied to the beach end of the runway to take off. Well………….. we were well and truly, painfully sandblasted. It was all we could do to remain standing, the force was so severe! I was too busy holding onto my hat and turning my back to the blast to take any photographs. Ken managed a photo of his feet! We were covered from head to foot in sand. Once we were over the shock, realised we were still alive and had not been forced backwards into the sea, we were able to laugh about the experience. I had to empty my mouth of sand however, before resuming conversation! Ken washed his away with a much-needed beer!
The large plane that sandblasted us ready for take off
We waited for a short while longer, a more comfortable distance from the runway, to photograph Martin’s plane land but no planes seemed to be arriving at his due time. We assumed we’d missed him in all the sand blasting confusion so made our way to airport arrivals and text him to say we were outside. He text straight back to say he was too?! We looked around the area, no sign. We asked if there was an alternative exit, definitely not. Most bizarre. Ken phoned him to describe our exact location and after a short conversation the penny dropped; we were at the wrong airport! Martin had landed at the airport on the French side! Good job we didn’t hang around waiting for a photo of his plane to land; we’d be waiting a long time! Martin jumped in a taxi and we the bus and met up half an hour later at the Soggy Dollar Bar where we’d left the dinghy. I think he was too polite to ask why we were both covered in sand!! The following morning, Ken and Martin paid a visit to Customs where Martin was officially added to the crew list and we were all checked out of Sint Maarten. Next port of call, St Barthelemy (St Barts), a French island, where we dropped anchor in Anse de Columbier and had a quick snorkel – Martin’s first time in the Caribbean. There was a mountain of different fish species, a reef shark and turtles. Visibility wasn’t brilliant but enough to make it enjoyable and interesting. On route to Gustavia in the rib, to check in with Customs and Immigration, we passed Le Grand Bleu and all her toys, anchored in the bay, amongst several other super yachts! A different World. Gustavia is a pleasant harbour with a quaint little town, nice to wander.
Our plan was to visit the islands of Saba and Eustatia however the wind strength and direction suggested they would be extremely rolly and uncomfortable, even untenable anchorages so we diverted to St Christopher (nicknamed St Kitts, an independent island).
The anchorage here, in Basseterre, was also disappointingly rolly, so Ken and Martin changed the anchor line so it came from the middle of the boat, turning the boat from sideways onto the swell, to facing into it. This minimised the roll to an acceptable level. The town of Basseterre is upmarket and geared towards the cruise ships with its jewellers, clothes and gift shops, bars and restaurants.
Modelled on Piccadilly Circus We headed to the Museum and Research Centre to find information on my Great Uncle John Thomas, who was a Reverend on St Kitts, back in the 1940’s. We soon discovered that we needed to know the actual church(s) in which he practiced, to gain any information and we didn’t. There are 19 churches on St Kitts of varying religions; we tried visiting a few, sadly no joy. A very helpful lady in one of the Anglican churches didn’t have any information but she did let me play the organ – chopsticks, the complete extent of my repertoire! We then climbed the bell tower, for amazing views across the island. This would never have been permitted back in the UK, without at least a safety line, hard hat, completion of an indemnity form and possibly the making of a will!!
Lady Rebel at anchor in the background Being in full tourist mode we enquired with St Kitts Scenic Railway about an island tour. They quoted $89 per head, to which we replied ‘thanks, but no thanks’. The seller immediately said we could have local price as opposed to cruise ship rate at $45 per head (£32). We were happy with that – a three hour tour, ¾ by rail, ¼ by minibus. Complementary drinks, as many as desired, including various rum based cocktails. We learned sugar cane production was the primary industry, but on its decline, tourism now dominates.
We moved the boat a short way along the coast to Frigate Bay, far less rolly, clear water and a lively beach.
Next stop was Whitehouse Bay, again just a few miles along the coast. After another fruitful snorkel we ventured ashore to a new, very trendy bar called Salt Plage, complete with live band. We wandered along briefly to the also new Christophe Marina, part of the same ‘complex’ and equally as upmarket. The view across the bay watching the sunset was amazing and the bar was humming. Certainly a great find.
A field full of monkeys A walk to the new marina
Our next plan was to visit Shitten Bay with reports of excellent snorkelling, then move on to the island of Nevis, 7 miles away, but still part of St Kitts, from where we would check out. The snorkelling at Shitten lived up to its reputation however, on preparing to leave the bay for Nevis our engine wouldn’t start.
Trumpet Fish No matter what we did, nothing. Time was ticking by; there were no facilities or services at the current anchorage, it was purely a snorkel stop. We phoned an agent for Perkins engines, based in the capital, Basseterre, who said an engineer would call back; we waited and waited. It was Friday afternoon and our only real option was to sail off the anchorage and back to Basseterre. The wind was fluky but we managed to depart the bay without hitting the cliffs or joining the ship wreck on the beach. Raising the anchor is never easy under sail as manoeuvrability is a lot more restricted, especially if the wind suddenly changes strength or direction. We periodically tried the engine on the way back to Basseterre, nothing. My stomach was in knots, dreading the thought of anchoring under sail in a harbour busy with cruise ships, tripper boats, ferries, fishing boats and visiting yachts. Ken decided to try and bleed the atomisers as we had turned the engine over so many times; he figured the original suspected electrical problem might be fixed, but the engine now starved of fuel. Bingo, it worked. He did get an uncomfortable diesel shower, but who cares (sorry Ken!), the engine had roared into life. It was too late to go to Nevis. Basseterre we had discovered first hand was rolly, so back to Whitehouse Bay we went. I felt shattered after the ‘stressful’ afternoon, so stayed aboard to chill, while Ken and Martin ventured ashore to party at the trendy bar. Fortunately the engine started the following morning to get us out of the anchorage and we were soon sailing to Nevis where we checked out. We’d have liked to have spent more time here, however, due to the previous day’s engine episode, we’d lost a day, so continued on to Antigua, 45 miles away.
We arrived into Jolly Harbour just after dark and anchored by torchlight, something we try to avoid where possible; not possible on this occasion! ‘One’ has to trust ‘one’s’ chart plotter (Sat. Nav. for boats), paper charts and sufficient carrots in ‘one’s’ diet! All went well, we were in safely and the anchor holding nicely. We would see how well we did position wise in the morning!
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The Marina
A little far out but a safe distance from other boats and well clear of any land hazards! Great views to wake up to 
