Caribbean Cruising

At 10:10 on the morning of Thursday, 9^th March, we slipped lines from Port Louis marina, Grenada, after a final cup of coffee at our favorite Fork and Knife café, bound for Union Island. As always, we were in the good company of Seabird. We were delighted to be finally sailing on a port tack, however, the wind decided to trick us and after a short few moments of bliss, the wind shifted and we were on a wretched starboard tack again! By 16:00 we had moored at one of the 3 overnight anchorages available on the island, Clifton harbour. Arrival in Union Island is dramatic, with its craggy mountainous outline and swaths of turquoise, blue, aquamarine, and green water, representing sandy bottoms, reefs, or rocks. On our last visit we had been well entertained by acrobatic kite surfers jumping over our tender parked at the Happy Island bar. We were longing to show the current crew the spectacle. Sadly, the wind did not oblige, and the seas were bare of this entertainment. This did not prevent us from enjoying sundowner cocktails at the Iconic bar on Happy Island, where it sits in the middle of the reef. 

The next day, Monique and I went for a sunrise walk, while Giles and Louis jogged. We followed the road west as it snaked along the shore, ironically, towards Miss Irene Point. As Union Island awoke, we bid the friendly locals good morning and joyfully wended our way. Donna joined us for the trek along the manmade causeway linking Union Island to the bird sanctuary of Frigate Island, which passes alongside the idyllic Aston Lagoon. We were charmed by the peaceful serenity of the so called eco trail and glad of the exercise. The tale of Aston Lagoon starts 25 years ago, when an overseas investor wanted to build a golf course over the mangroves plus a marina for 300 boats. The following year the investor went bankrupt, and the project was left to rot and rust. The causeway and marina berths were built from metal pylons and coral was cruelly dredged, the result was a blockage in the seawater circulation, causing huge damage to the mangrove forests, beautiful reefs, and wafting seagrass. Aston Lagoon became a shunned wasteland, with green stagnant waters and a languishing mangrove forest and bird population.  Over several years, starting in 2004, a massive restoration project was mounted, and happily with the aid of many private investors, local government, and creative, passionate activists we are now able to enjoy this joyful walk along the eco lagoon trail. We hiked under the shade of the reflooded mangrove forest, accompanied by the song of re-established native bird populations, along the causeway, over two swinging bridges all the way to Frigate Island. On the way home, exhausted from a long morning of walking, we decided to hail a taxi van. Our driver, Tony, fancied himself as a tour guide and brought us the long way around the island, so we got to see much of its beauty. Every so often he slowed down to point out a beach, a restaurant, or a spectacular view. He assured us that if we needed a ride to the market, to the beach, or the bar or if we needed “smokes” he was our man. When he was hailed, he stopped to pick up locals on their way to market or work. A man and a woman sitting on the bench seat in front of us were quarrelling. She, with her classic head-scarf and colorful dress was reprimanding him for not saying good morning and recognizing her and he, with his ironed black trousers and shirt, with tall black straw hat banded in African colors, was defending himself, saying he had not seen her for many years and just did not recognize her. We cheered them along from the back row, at times supporting him, at times supporting her. We felt local already!

Sadly, the winds and tides dump multicolored plastic waste all over the shores of Aston Lagoon. The local Sustainable Grenadines (SusGren) organization, which runs and overseas the maintenance of the nature reserve, cannot keep up with the plastic waste deposited ashore. We decided to do a beach clean the next morning with as many of the crew from both boats as we could muster. The next day started bright and sunny, with few clouds in the sky. As soon as we got into our taxi van, the sky darkened, and rain threatened. Our driver said a huge downpour was about to hit. Little did we know how we should have heeded his words. No sooner had we bid him farewell and started the walk along the mangrove forest path, than the drops began. The drops turned to drizzle, the drizzle became sheets, the sheets developed into driving waterfalls cascading and splashing off our heads, and so it continued. We soldiered valiantly on, with Lucy refusing to give up. We gathered two bags full and sought shelter, before calling our driver and requesting a ride to the Salty Girl Café for six drowned rats. Luckily, we had plastic bags to protect his seats, as we were literally dripping wet. We had a few complainers in our midst, but most were glad we had made the effort.

Later that day, 11^th March, both boats set sail for beautiful, quiet Mayreau. We had decided to do a little crew swapping, so Donna and Lucy came aboard Irene IV and George and Giles went aboard Seabird. Irene IV, the girls’ boat, arrived in Saline Bay first, (of course), and Seabird, the boys’ boat, lagged way behind! Louis and Lucy were in deep cahoots writing the words to a song to be presented at the end of rally party. Donna, Monique, and I sallied forth in the dinghy to explore Salt Whistle Bay, two bays around the corner. We were charged with making dinner plans. Last time around we had dined ashore with Alvin and his wife for a delicious beach barbecue. By chance, we happened upon the same Alvin lounging on the beach and asked if he could feed us again. He agreed to a beach barbecue on the beach at Saline Bay, so we did not have to round the two headlands in the dark. After a refreshing fresh coconut drink, one apiece, we braved the turbulent seas and headed homeward. 

Beach barbecues are always a delight. We dined royally on red snapper, lobster, chicken, and ribs, accompanied by seasoned rice, baked garlic potatoes, fried plantains, and salad. We were introduced to many members of Alvin’s extended family. His wife comes from Union Island, they have two little daughters. Mayreau boys tend to go further afield to find a wife, so that their blood can be a healthy mix. Alvin’s mother had 7 boys, he tells us, she named the 5^th son “Nomore”, but her cunning plan did not work!

Next stop in our island-hopping tour, as we ventured northwards, was the gorgeous uninhabited island group of Tobago Cays. Here we were excited to snorkel in the turtle reserve. The snorkeling is outstanding. We see Turtles of all sizes, including a very little baby, Sting Ray, Butter Fish, Barracuda, Surgeon Fish, and more. I am so happy that Monique was able to experience the rich array of life beneath the ocean surface.

We anchored away from the throngs of charter boats off the northern most island of Petit Rameau. As Rob pointed out, in the Caribbean we are surrounded by charter boats, mostly catamarans, out for their annual 1 to 2 week sailing holidays. Up until now, we have met circumnavigators, like ourselves, or at least, long haul sailors - a very different set of people. 

We are all experiencing an excitement but also a sense of loss, as we near the end of our epic journey. We are, of course, looking forward to returning to land life and our families, but it is hard to imagine a life off the boat in a house that does not move. 

In Tobago Cays we meet up with the crew of Black Lion, a welcome reunion. We dine together ashore for another two beach barbecues with chef Elizabeth. The second day, she kindly barbecues two Australian legs of lamb we have had in the freezer since La Réunion. 

Today, 14^th March, we are heading northeast towards Bequia – a slightly longer sail, and with winds of 14-17 knots, we have had a fun time. Monique had a stint on the helm, coached by Rob. We expect to anchor in the sheltered Friendship Bay, on the east side of the island in time for lunch at the Bequia Beach Hotel.