Rainy Day in Paradise - Jolly Harbour Marina, Antigua
Harmonie
Don and Anne Myers
Thu 11 Apr 2013 12:45
| 17:03.970N 61:53.020W February 21, 2013 - April 10, 2013 How very odd to have a rainy day in the lovely Caribbean. It's not just a little bit of liquid sunshine either, it's a downright, full-out, gray cloudy day with rain parading through just slow enough for ports and hatches to be opened right before they need to be closed again. It's odd, but nice - the gray reminds us of home. Of course it also gives us an excuse to lay around and read a book or write something for the blog (as if we need an excuse to lay around, but there you go). More than six weeks have gone by since we arrived in Rodney Bay, St. Lucia, and we've not much to show for it aside from a pile of empty wine and beer bottles and a heap of good memories left over from my sister Margy and brother-in-law Rick's visit. They were only with us for a short week, but we managed to laze around Rodney Bay for a full month, finally rousing ourselves out of our St. Lucia stupor three weeks ago to sail the short 30 miles north to Martinique. After spending two weeks in various anchorages on Martinique's southwest coast and managing to mangle the French language beyond repair, we sailed on to Dominica, and then finally to Jolly Harbour, Antigua, which is where we are now. One would think we'd have more to report after floating around the Caribbean for over two months, but most of it can be boiled down to the following: The weather is perfect. The breeze is just right. The water is lovely. The music is excellent. The vibe is purely Caribbean. -and- The prices are shocking. The anchorages are crowded. We feel more like tourists than boaters. We have no friends. That's it in a nutshell. For those of you who prefer a bit more detail, read on. For those who prefer a shorter and snappier blog, skip down to the photos. The weather, wind and water are lovely. We have Syracuse weather bookmarked on our browser so when we have internet access, we read what's going on there, and then feel really good about what's going on here. Here, the weather is perfect (except for the very occasional rainy day). It's just hot enough during the day to make swimming something to look forward to, and just cool enough at night to require a top sheet. Unlike Indonesia, Malaysia and Thailand, our eyebrows do not sweat, our faces do not melt, and we can no longer track each other's movements throughout the cabin via trails of sweat. The main reason the weather is so lovely is the very consistent trade wind. Without it, the Caribbean islands might approach the holy humid hotness of Southeast Asia….but not quite. With it, the temperature is always near perfect and sailing is always possible, except when in the lee of a giant volcanic peak. The only problem with the wind is it seems to blow forward of the beam no matter which direction we are sailing. Sailing into the wind just isn't very fun for those of us who prefer a gentle wind blowing from behind. In short, the Caribbean is no place for sailing wussies. Don is faring well, but I seem to have morphed from triumphant circumnavigator into quivering sailing wuss in record time. We had a particularly bumpy ride from Carriacou to St. Lucia, and then again from Martinique to Dominica, during which there was a fair bit of whining going on in the cockpit (and it wasn't coming from Don). Of course there has been the usual number of mini-calamities along the way, but nothing to write home about (yet, once again, here I am writing home about it). There was the sudden, massive 'POP!' when the line holding the top of the headsail snapped after tacking through a particularly blustery headwind. Then there was a giant 'TWANGGGG!!' when the main sail's leach line broke (a self-inflicted mini-disaster, details of which will remain under wraps in the interest of continued marital bliss). The generator and main battery charger have thrown a few mini-fits, and the water maker, although now making lots of water in record time, still sometimes forgets to take out enough salt. On the bright side, Don found a new sensor for the chain counter in Martinique so we can once again sit happily in the cockpit while anchoring and watch the chain counter count meters of chain while the windlass does its thing. The Caribbean vibe. Even though we've found many places to be overrun with tourists, the unique Caribbean vibe is still very much alive and well. Most places are laid-back, slow and easy; with reggae, calypso or some other distinctly Caribbean beat wafting around in the background. Each island has its own personality, which is shaped in large part by religion, whether it be Catholicism, Rastafarian, fundamental Christian, or some combination of those or others. The ethnicity of the people, their food, and music, and the island's topography, natural resources and economy complete the picture. In St. Lucia, our best local informers (taxi drivers, tour guides and hair dressers) worry about government corruption and crime. "The politicians! They say they are for the people, but when they get into office, they care only about three people: me, myself and I.", says taxi driver Bennie. Beautician Lucy laments the state of St. Lucia's youth, "I send my daughter to England. She no like it and cry every day, but I can't have her here. She will go with a handsome young man and get into drugs. It's no good for young people here. They don't want to work anymore - they just want the fast drug money." We can't help but think that an island economy based heavily on tourism (which is true for many, but not all of the islands) is not necessarily all good. It's easy to see why the island young people, who are surrounded by glamorous resorts, marinas and restaurants filled with flashy tourists, might be tempted to seek the shortest route to the pot of gold. On the bright side, you can't beat the many intrepid entrepreneurial souls roving the beaches and bays of St. Lucia and Dominica, wanting to provide a service or sell you something. There's beads from the guy who apparently designed something for several of The Bachelor contestants when the show was filmed in St. Lucia, fruit from a variety of floating sources including the guy in the rickety wooden dinghy-thing festooned with a multitude of country flags, and eco-friendly hats and baskets from the roving Rastafarian palm frond weaving specialist. Then there's Evans, who hangs out near the ferry dock in Dominica's capital Roseau. We arrived in Roseau on a particularly windy day, with a big swell running through the anchorage, so were very glad to see Evans waving from shore as we tried our best to negotiate the rolling waves in our little dinghy. He motioned us into a small harbor used by the local fisherman, tied up our dinghy and helped us climb up the concrete wall. "I'm Evans," he enthusiastically proclaimed, "This is what I do. I look for yachties in dinghies and help them tie up and find customs. This is what I do. I watch your dinghy, no problem. This is what I do." We happily gave him $12EC (~$4US) upon our return from customs, and hoped he got enough business that day to carry him into the next. North of Roseau, in Dominica's Prince Rupert Bay, the boat boys have organized themselves into a single group responsible for all boaters' wants and needs: roving security at night, garbage pick-up, laundry service, various boat and bus tours, local information, water taxi services, etc., etc.. You'd have to work hard to turn down help from a mostly smiling guy in a brightly painted wooden boat called 'Lawrence of Arabia'. We had forgotten how nice the Caribbean is. But... The prices are shocking - probably because we are used to cheap South Africa and even cheaper Southeast Asia. What we spent in a month for a dock in South Africa was gone in five days in the Grenada, St. Lucia and Antigua marinas. While it's true one could argue the sturdier dock construction, garbage pick-up and laundry service demands a higher price, we still find the difference disconcerting. Groceries are also top-dollar, and even the fruit and vegetables in the local market aren't what we would consider a bargain. However, we will admit the unique floating fruit delivery system used in St. Lucia is worth the extra money. If we were feeling cynical though, we might point out that in Vanuatu, we were often fruited free of charge via dugout canoe. Ah yes, we keep telling ourselves, if every place were like Vanuatu, it wouldn't be quite so special, now would it? The anchorages are crowded. There are a lot of sailboats in the bits of the Caribbean we've seen so far, but the south of Martinique wins the prize based on sheer numbers. We were surrounded by hundreds of boats at anchor (and nearly 600 in the nearby marina, many of which are owned by local Martinique sailors or charter companies). In general, the crowds have forced us to re-think our approach to anchoring. Gone are all thoughts of an anchorage private enough for a daytime cockpit shower; except of course if you are French or German. Since English-speakers' tea time coincides nicely with French and German bath time, we prudish Americans have taken to sipping tea in the cockpit while the show goes on around us just before sunset. We figure since we've been forced to severely reduce our personal space while at anchor, we might as well make the best of it. We feel more like tourists than boaters. Right or wrong, as boaters, we often feel superior to the typical tourist. This is because we can get to places they can't, and once there, we can stay much longer; all the while getting to know the places we visit in a way that's almost impossible for the usual tourist to do. However, here in the Caribbean, we may be on a sailboat floating in a bay, but the tourists are in the same bay, doing mostly the same things. Our visits are still longer than the usual tourist, but the nature of the visit is nearly the same. The only locals we meet are those that serve us in some way, which is not the same as a chance (and often memorable) meeting with a local in a remote village. We've had a few brushes with the 'real' Caribbean so far, including a couple very pleasant rides in the local minivan buses and an excellent trip to the main market in Castries, the capital of St. Lucia. However, because we are so used to the local culture plopping itself into our lap when we visit a place, having to search for the real Caribbean under its touristy veneer feels strange to us. View of Rodney Bay and St. Lucia's northwest coast from what used to be a British fort on the top of Pigeon Island. St. Lucia's iconic twin Piton mountains. Sunset over Rodney Bay as seen from Harmonie's stern. The quaint French town of Ste. Anne on Martinique's southern coast. We were anchored there for nearly a week with at least eighty of our closest boater friends. Not really. But we did enjoy the teatime shows. Dominica's Indian River. For us, Dominica was a nice change from very touristy St. Lucia and very crowded Martinique. Dominica (not to be confused with the Dominican Republic, which shares an island with Haiti, and is located a fair distance to the northwest between Puerto Rico and Cuba), is a young volcanic island with very tall, forest covered peaks and not many sandy beaches. Because of the shortage of beaches, Dominica is not a major Caribbean tourist destination. We felt more at home there surrounded by other boaters (no charter boats) and locals. Its unspoiled coastline attracted the makers of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, and many of the scenes were filmed here. We went on a rowboat tour of the Indian River with boat boy (really, boat man) Martin, and he pointed out the various locations used in the movies, including the one in the photo above. These trees are called bloodwoods and their fantastic root system loves the brackish water. Very cool. Machete wielding tour guide Paul. We also took a full day minibus tour of Dominica's northern coast with Paul - a martial arts teacher/construction worker/taxi driver/certified tour guide/guitar player/security consultant/herbal medicine specialist (and coconut-husker extraordinaire). It seems most local Dominica folk involved in the fledgling tourist business have a few things going on the side to ensure a steady stream of income. Dominica's Red Rock Beach. The red is actually leftover ash from a big volcanic blow. A nice spot, and one maintained by an extremely relaxed group of Rastafarians. We each paid $5EC (~$2US) to walk the beach using the handy stairs carved into the ash by the care takers. Not a bad way to live - carve a stair or two, take a few bucks from a few tourists, and smoke a boatload of weed. A Rainy Day in Paradise. Our view of Guadeloupe's pretty peaks as we sailed past on our way from Dominica to Antigua. Hey, we do have friends! Sue (aka Monkey) and Rick are flying in from Syracuse today, and will be with us for a week in Antigua. We are looking forward to a renewed social life and a week of making fun of our non-boater friends as they struggle (or not?) with life on a boat. After they leave us on the 18th, we'll start making our way back south toward Grenada where a cradle is waiting for Harmonie in May. Anne |