Isles des Saintes, Guadeloupe.                         Sunday March 2nd                                         15:52.20N  61:35.07W

 

Monday morning was the start of the RORC Caribbean 600 Race and we went up to Fort Charlotte at the entrance to English Harbour to watch the 65 yachts starting in four classes.  The wind was pretty light by Caribbean winter standards but the large start made an impressive sight.  The first 3 boats were back in Antigua by Wednesday morning, but we later saw some of the tailenders almost becalmed off Guadeloupe on Wednesday evening still with over 200 miles to go. 

 

 

The real hot shots' start and there is always some ass who gets in the way, quite oblivious of his surroundings!

 
We checked out with Customs and Immigration on Tuesday after 5 great weeks, had our hair shorn, scrubbed the anchor  chain, delegated the morning radio net in favour of refuelling.  On Wednesday morning we awoke to solid heavy rain, little wind and wall to wall cloud.  Fortunately the rain stopped briefly while we were on the fuelling dock. By shortly after 0900 we motored into a nasty sloppy sea and 20 knots of wind virtually on the nose with heavy rain and only a few miles visibility.  At least it was warm, or fairly warm (25C) otherwise it would have felt like the English Channel.  The rain cleared through by midday and we sped, under lightly reefed sails, on our way to Guadeloupe and true to English Channel standards did not discard our oilskins until we reached the lee of the island. 
Deshaies, our usual passage harbour, has been very busy with reports of over 60 boats at anchor so we passed by, and early in the afternoon counted over 30. We anchored for the night inshore of Pigeon Island the Jacques Cousteau Marine Park where we rolled gently for most of the night in glorious isolation.   We did discover later that Deshaies, as is often the case, had two hours of sustained 40 knot winds during the night.  The combination of the catabatic  winds off the mountains and the funnelling effect of the valley plus the moderate pressure gradient wind we were experiencing only 10 miles further south often produces this effect.  Apparently yachts were dragging their anchors and wrapping around their neighbours and we were very pleased we had made the decision to avoid it on this occasion.
The very popular anchorages of the Isles des Saintes just south of Guadeloupe are now filled with moorings administered very efficiently by the harbour master.  Reports on our radio net had indicated that as we were in the middle of French holidays it was very crowded and competition for moorings was cut-throat and late arrivals were forced to anchor in very unfavourable places.  We left Pigeon Island at 0630 in order to arrive in the Saintes early enough to have a good chance of obtaining one.  We picked up one of only three vacant ones (out of a total of 50) at 1030 with two other boats racing us for the prize.   The Saintes is not what it was in 1971 when we were here in Troubadour. Visiting yachts were very few and the economy was based on fishing. There was none of today's tourism with the ferries from Guadeloupe arriving and leaving all the time and regular visits from cruise ships.  We then noticed a preponderance in the population  of old men and attractive young ladies who made it quite clear that the arrival of three young men was an event to make maximum use of! 

 

 

Saintes Carnival Parade on Saturday morning. There is now no shortage of young males! 

  
Perhaps needless to say there has been some gathering of the clans here and we have provided business for the excellent French chefs.

Yet another yacht from the Newton Ferrers area with a family very well known to us appeared alongside us yesterday.  That now makes five local boats cruising the area.  It would be good to get us all in the same place, but there does not seem much chance of that.
And finally, we managed to avert another minor crisis. The trusty outboard motor without which we would not care to be, hiccoughed.  A spring in the pull start mechanism disintegrated and the rest got mangled in the works.  I could not see how the mangled pieces were meant to go together. After some dismantling I could start it, Seagull style, with a piece of string, but I did not relish this as a permanent arrangement. 
However of all the unlikely things in the Saintes, where you can't even buy a gallon of petrol, we found a willing mechanic who cannibalised a similar motor, fixed ours and reassembled it all within 24 hours of the disintegration.  Faith in the French was restored, and together with the fact we have just enjoyed a three hour Sunday lunch ashore with some good friends, life could be worse.  The sun is just going down in this idyllic anchorage, we are enjoying a drink in the cockpit and the carnival drums are echoing across the anchorage. Once again everything is working.  We managed a week last time. How long before the next crisis? 

 

 

 

Sunday evening.