We arrived at St Lucia in the Caribbean early in the afternoon of Wednesday 13^th April. The Rodney Bay Marina is located in a lagoon that is well protected in all weather. The Noonsite information led us to believe that there would be a customs dock with yellow piles but we couldn’t see it anywhere. Marina staff replied on the radio that there wasn’t one. We were directed to go to the end pontoon where staff took our lines and pointed us in the direction of the customs office. No sooner had we tied up than a “boat boy” selling fruit and vegetables arrived. We bought fruit and some salad lines in a nicely arranged basket made from a palm frond. It ended up being reasonably expensive and we later saw him at the supermarket, replenishing his stock.

After filling out the entry form in quadruplicate, we were asked by the customs officer where we wished to go in St Lucia. He told us that we could go to any port of entry but we needed permission to anchor anywhere else. No going into little bays to anchor! The immigration officer told us to go to the airport at Castries before 2100 and get a visa, then bring our passports in the next day and he would stamp them. No, he could not issue a visa. We thought that was strange. We also wondered why Australians, as fellow members of the Commonwealth, needed visas (New Zealanders do not). Perhaps we have beaten them at cricket once too often. He also told us that we could have applied on line before we arrived in the country and he would have endorsed it. Bit late to know then.

An American woman working in the chandlery knew the drill – her husband is Australian. She told us to catch the bus outside the marina gate and gave us directions to the airport. The buses are transit vans and they come along every couple of minutes. There was a grader in front of the bus and the driver was very impatient to pass. Eventually, we flew past it on a bend in the road and the bus took off like a “bat out of hell” as my Grandfather used to say. We thought that he was behind schedule but we later found out that they all drive like that. A bus ride can be a nail-biting experience!

When we got off the bus, we had to walk between the airport runway and the cemetery. The road was packed with parked vehicles and we thought that the airport must be very busy. As we came to the cemetery, we saw that there were large numbers of groups of people, many looking as though they were off to a party (indeed, many of them were partying) and we decided that it must be burial time. They were all gone when we came back later.  An airport police officer took us into the immigration area. People going in there usually arrive by plane, not by foot from the road. More forms, this time in triplicate. We could purchase a single entry, three month visa, for 50USD. A twelve month, multi entry visa was available for 75USD but could only be purchased from the main office in town and, as we were now at the airport, we could not go into town without a visa to get the multi entry one.

On Friday, our son Anthony, his wife Pinar and baby Bettina, arrived by plane at the airport in Vieux Fort, an hour and a half by taxi from the marina. They were the only people on a full plane who needed to get visas. An hour later, they were processed. Anthony asked for the multi entry visa and was told that he would have to go to the main office in Castries. No, he could not go there without a visa. So we all ended up with the single entry visa, even Bettina who was nine months old.

On Saturday, Bob and I took the bus to the Saturday market in Castries. There were two cruise ships in town and quite a few tourists getting around. We have been spoiled by the wonderful range and quality of fruit and vegetables in Morocco, Turkey and Italy. The market in Castries was quite disappointing, with most of the stalls looking as though the produce came from some back yard garden.  The range and quality for the price left a lot to be desired. In the afternoon, we all went in the dinghy to the other side of the lagoon where we could access a large supermarket. They had a better range of produce at similar prices to the market, so we didn’t bother going to Castries again.

Our original plan was to head to Martinique for a week and return to St Lucia so that Anthony and family could catch their plane back to the US (hence the desire for multi entry visas). Pinar suffers from motion sickness, so we decided to go out for a trial sail on Sunday to see how she coped before we set off to cross the eighteen mile wide, open channel between St Lucia and Martinique. The experience did not go well with Pinar quite sick and Bettina very upset at her mother’s distress.  We beat a hasty retreat back to Rodney Bay where we anchored for the afternoon, then back to the marina.

On Monday, Pinar spoke to people at the pool and they convinced her that Marigot Bay was definitely worth the visit. She was determined to make the effort so, on Tuesday morning, we set off. Fortunately, the trade winds took a break and we motored in calm seas. Before we arrived, we were approached by a boat boy wanting to know whether we wanted a mooring. He was vague about the cost. It seemed to start at twenty (vague about whether that was local money or USD) and rose to fifty USD when we actually tied up. The USD is about 0.37 times the local money. Bob gave him forty five locals and he went to consult with his boss. He came back to say that it was OK.

Matrigot Bay is one of the most secure anchorages in the Caribbean. British and French fleets used it during the years when the French and the British fought over possession of St Lucia and it has also been a base for pirates. It is now the base for The Moorings Charter Company and their boats take up a substantial part of the inner harbour. We were on a mooring in the outer harbour. We spent a peaceful two nights there and the family spent the day relaxing and swimming off the beach. The area has been the site of various movies, one being Dr Doolittle. Doolittle’s restaurant and hotel was used in the movie. The boat boy returned on the second afternoon to see whether we wanted the mooring for the second night. Bob gave him forty locals and said that we would leave if that was not acceptable. He didn’t come back. It would seem that the cost of a mooring is very flexible, especially when some are vacant.

On Thursday, we set off to Soufriere and The Pitons. Again, we motored in calm waters. Several miles before we arrived, a fisherman came across and wanted to know whether we wanted a mooring. Anchoring off Soufriere is forbidden and the moorings are rented out by the national parks office. Maybe the boat boys get a commission. They certainly look for a tip. We told him that we wanted to look at The Pitons and then we would come back to the mooring at Soufriere. He returned to say that the mooring would not be available until 1330 so he put us on a mooring that was off the beach, halfway between Soufriere and The Pitons. Then he was back to say that it would be 1600 before the mooring was free. When we were finally settled and the national parks ranger came out to collect the fee, it was fifty four locals for two nights, making the mooring at Marigot Bay relatively expensive.

The next day, Anthony, Pinar, Bettina and I went in to investigate a trip to the nearby volcano and mud pools. It was very hot and Bob opted to stay on the boat. The boat boy from the previous day had offered a trip to the volcano, mud pools and the Diamond Falls for 30USD per head. We decided to try to walk to the volcano but the heat beat us before we got to the top of the first hill. It was Good Friday, so everything was closed except for a shop selling clothes and souvenirs. When we went in, the English woman running the place told us that we could take a taxi to the volcano and mud pools for a total of sixty seven locals for the round trip in the taxi plus entry fee into the area. So much for 30UDS per head! She suggested that we would be better off to walk to the Diamond Falls and use the minerals baths there – they were filtered and clean, unlike the mud pools. We did this and enjoyed the walk in the beautiful tropical gardens around the falls. Anthony and Pinar went into the mineral baths while I watched Bettina who was wowing the tourists as they went by.

On Saturday, Bob and I went into the market. It was on a much smaller scale than the Castries market but with a similar quality of produce. We decided to by-pass the man with the wheel barrow full of sardines standing in the sun and headed for the purpose built butcher area. Here, anybody who had failed Butcher Skills 101 was hacking into carcasses with machetes.  There was no finesse involved and the resulting cuts of meat were little more than chunks that were probably liberally laced with bone chips. We passed on those as well. The supermarket at Rodney Bay offered beautifully cut and presented meats, even certified Angus beef.

We headed back to Rodney Bay, where we anchored for the night. Next day, we returned to the marina. On Tuesday, the family set off on their long trip back to Brisbane. Anthony told us that it poured rain on the way to the airport but the rain did not arrive at Rodney Bay until that night. Our plan had been to go to the supermarket on Wednesday morning, check out on Wednesday afternoon and leave for Panama on Thursday but the rain bucketed down. People going to the airport at Vieux Fort on Thursday were taken by tourist catamaran as the road was washed away.

On Thursday afternoon, we took a chance during a break in the weather to go to the supermarket. While we were in there, we could hear the rain on the roof. When we got back to the dinghy, it was half full of water. The rain had eased a little but it was still a very wet trip back to the boat. Friday was still wet so we went to customs and cleared to leave on Saturday. Late Saturday morning, after paying the marina, we went to the fuel dock and used the last of our East Caribbean dollars to buy diesel then headed west towards Panama.