We left St Maarten rather quickly, before Mardi Gras, because we discovered that Bill’s flight out from St Thomas left two days earlier than what we had remembered. Good thing he double-checked! We exited the lagoon at the last scheduled afternoon opening of the bridge. (You can arrange an unscheduled opening, for $1,000.) We anchored outside and went ashore for dinner, and got underway just as it got dark.

At daylight we were approaching Virgin Gorda (British Virgin Islands). We cleared in near Leverick Bay and then crossed Gorda Sound to the Bitter End marina/resort. Expensive, but very nice. Hot showers @ $4 for five minutes. Delicious “painkiller” drinks. Kite boarders showing off their amazing stuff nearby.

Bill had one more full day aboard, so he got to choose what was next. We sailed to Monkey Point for some good snorkeling, and then moored in Trellis Bay, where he could arrange a morning taxi to his ferry. Farewell to Bill. I’m glad that it worked out for him to sail with one of his daughters in the Caribbean. That was one of his dreams/goals at the outset of this adventure.

Hallie, Nora and I now had a couple days before Jesse (my son) and Chelsea (his girlfriend) were to arrive. We beat upwind to Spanish Town; we visited The Baths; we moored in The Bight of Norman Island; and we parked at Soper’s Hole where we met their ferry. Soper’s Hole was kind of fun, for a developed place. Voyage Catamaran Charters is based there, and I registered for their drawing for a week’s charter aboard their new 48 footer…

Then off to the US Virgin Islands. We cleared in at Cruz Bay on St John, and then motored around to Lameshure Bay on the south side of the island, to find shelter from the extremely strong NE winds. Luckily someone in Cruz Bay told me about the senior pass for US national parks, which includes a 50% discount on moorings in national parks, which includes most of St John.

We motored into serious wind and waves, but only for an hour or so, to Coral Bay, where we found a nice anchorage. Then to Charlotte Amalie on St Thomas, where J&C could easily get to the airport. Their Caribbean experience was unfortunate, in that the wind was howling during their entire visit. I think they still had a good time, but it wasn’t the relaxed and pleasant paradise that gets advertised!

Steve, my good friend and new crew, flew in with his wife Donna, and they stayed a few days in a fancy hotel. Hallie and Donna flew home on the same flight. After they were in their taxi to the airport, Nora and I went to Steve’s vacated room and took luxurious long hot showers!

With Hallie gone, I felt like our month of “charter operation” in the Caribbean was over, and Nora, Steve and I could focus on sailing on again. First a big provisioning run, and diesel and water, and we were ready. But we wanted to rendezvous with Tahawus, as they had just arrived in St Croix. I had planned to sail to St Croix, as I haven’t been there, but Norm/Klaudia were planning to move on to St John. So we sailed to Francis Bay on St John, and then the next day moved on to Lameshure Bay (again), where we arrived about ten minutes before Tahawus.

We just had a delightful time together, drinking too much wine, enjoying conch ceviche prepared by them (conch caught by the boys), and a key lime pie we made in honor of Veronica’s 21st birthday. I think we will stay here tomorrow, and doing nothing. Then probably sail to the Puerto Rican island of Culebra…on our way to the Bahamas.

[Note to ‘subscribers’ who receive posts via email: nine photos got truncated from the email of my previous post about rushing through the Eastern Caribbean. In case you are trying to absorb every beautiful detail, go to the http://www.zekethesailor.net web site to see them. The posts look better there than in the emails anyway!]

We did slow down after our mad dash to Antigua, though maybe not enough really. Antigua, Barbuda, Nevis, St Kitts, Statia, St Barts, St Maarten…seven islands, five countries in this chapter. After our initial stay at Falmouth Harbor, we sailed up the west side of the island to Jolly Harbor. We went into the marina for fuel and water and showers and a visit to a wonderfully stocked (and extremely pricey) supermarket.

Then around to the north side of the island, inside the barrier reef. We anchored in a pretty bay off of a resort on Long Island, where we had the bonus of wifi from the resort. Next day we moved a little further in behind the reefs, anchoring in a remote spot between two islets that are unnamed on my chart. Here I hoped we would find some good snorkeling, but it was so-so. Still nice to spend some time in the water.

Next morning we retraced our steps out of the reefs, and made the 25 mile crossing to Barbuda. Hallie and I have fond memories of Barbuda from 30 years ago, when we were the only boat anchored there among the coral heads. This time we had some companions, but still it was remote…and beautiful…and the best snorkeling so far in the Caribbean. Anchoring behind the reef here has been a Caribbean highlight for me.

Next day we motored around to the west side of the island and anchored off of the long, empty beach. There was a pretty resort there, but when we dinghied ashore we found that it was closed, and for sale. This presented a problem, because we needed to check out of Antigua/Barbuda, which required that we get a water taxi across the lagoon to the town of Codrington, and it wasn’t clear how we were going to find a boat to take us. But as we wandered around the closed resort, a voice eventually hailed us, and the person maintaining the place called a water taxi for us.

Checking out was still a challenge, as it was Friday afternoon, and when we walked to the Immigrations office, it was locked. There was a phone number on a sign, but we don’t have a local phone. We decided to walk to the Customs office, hoping for better luck. It was locked up, too, again with a phone number. We went into a shop across the street, bought eggs, and convinced the proprietor to let us use her phone to call Customs. No problem, Customs was open a few minutes later, and the Customs man called Immigrations to tell them we were coming. We got back there at 5 minutes before closing, and completed our formalities.

Our water taxi man then took us up the lagoon to see the nesting ground of the frigate birds. He says it is the largest nesting area in the world, and that the birds we saw there are the same ones we saw in the Galapagos — they migrate back and forth! It was pretty cool to see the birds, though I had some sticker shock at the price of our boat ride. Everything is crazy expensive in the Caribbean…

Next stop: Nevis. A beautiful volcano (not active, although the one on the next island, Monserrat, was smoking). We took a mooring and headed ashore for dinner, even though we weren’t legally cleared into the country yet. We met a delightful family (children ages 10, 9 and 7) from the boat on the next mooring, and we drank “killer Bs” and had a tasty dinner with them. A fascinating couple…she wrote a book about traveling the country with her dog in a VW bus, following the path of John Steinbeck. I downloaded a copy of the book, which I am now enjoying.

Our outboard motor wouldn’t start. Unfortunately it is a Honda, which is pretty much unknown in this part of the world. No dealers or service centers anywhere in the Caribbean! But the Customs agent gave me the number of a guy who might help us. We dragged our too-heavy dinghy up the steep beach, and carried our too-heavy outboard to Sarge’s taxi. Next day we reversed the process, no easier for being $375 lighter. The engine now starts, but it frequently stalls…

The weather then got weird…the wind clocking around to the south and then the west. With a west wind the island provides no protection. Very uncomfortable on the mooring. Boats were leaving in the morning, and we prepared to do the same. I noticed two guys in a dinghy headed toward shore…one struggling to light a cigarette in the wind. It made no sense that they were headed ashore, as the waves from the west wind made it untenable to land on the beach. Only then did I notice the rest of the scenario. A boat had broken loose from its mooring…was blowing toward the beach…and these guys were about to try to rescue it. I was convinced they were too late…the boat appeared to be already broadside in the cresting waves. But they grabbed the frayed mooring line and hauled the bow around to face the waves…and then they were able to slowly tow it away from the beach. Apparently there was no one aboard. The boat bucked in the waves, violently jerking the dinghy, yet they towed it back out to a mooring. But then what? It was all they could do to pull on the mooring line to hold the boat into the wind…they couldn’t get any slack to tie the boat to the new mooring. So one of them climbed aboard (also challenging in the conditions), and opened the anchor locker, and as the wind carried them back toward shore he managed to deploy the anchor. And it held.

We signaled our congratulations to the two, as we dropped our mooring and headed for a more sheltered spot. We saw the harbor police boat arrive at this point…too late to help. Whoever/wherever the owner of the sailboat is, he owes a huge debt to the two lads in the dinghy. I’m still not sure where they even came from, or how they noticed the situation and responded in time.

We took shelter at the south end of St Kitts. Our cruising guide made the facilities ashore sound attractive, but it was just a touristy restaurant. The book said there were showers. Hallie asked our server about that. She nodded toward the beach and said: by the surfboard. Hallie indicated that she was looking for a REAL shower, not a rinse on the beach. Our server pointedly replied: this is a beach bar, not a hotel!

Next day we motored around to the west side of the island, to Basseterre. Cruise ships and a landing area catering to cruise ship people…shops and taxis. We paid $5 to land our dinghy at the marina, but that was okay because the fee entitled us to use there (real) showers. The rest of the crew toured off to see the largest old British Fort in the Caribbean; I cleared out with Customs and went for some alone time on the boat.

My alone time didn’t last long, though. A dinghy passed by and we waved at each other, and they stopped for a chat. Four Minnesotans (Pete and Kate and friends), who had been on a mooring near us in Nevis, and left about the same time we did to escape the waves. I invited them aboard, but they had groceries…so they invited me to join them instead. In fact, they invited all four of us to come for dinner. I said I didn’t know when the others would return, but I accept in any case. We did all join for a very enjoyable dinner. And we pumped Pete for local knowledge.

With the wind still weird…very light from the south…we motored to Statia (Sint Eustatius), even though Pete didn’t think highly of the island. We planned to stay just one night, but of course we had to clear in, then pay our $35 harbor fees, and then clear right back out. Then we discovered there is an additional $10 national marine park fee. Then we asked about getting a map of trails on the island. No problem…$2…but also if you actually walk on the trails you need a “trail tag” which costs $10 per person. It’s good for a full year though…

I like this island…off the beaten path…only a handful of boats here…no cruise ships…no hawkers…no pushy taxi drivers…people very friendly. But the “nickel and dimming” is a little hard to take. Too bad we weren’t staying longer — we’d get trail tags…

Next day we set out early to take advantage of some wind, still from the south. We considered St Barts or St Martin, but both would be busy harbors, and I wanted a quiet place for a swim. So we decided to go to Isle Fouchue, between the two (legally part of St Barts). Lots of turtles…pretty good snorkeling…only a handful of boats…a beautiful starry night.

And then St Martin (or, since we came to the Dutch side of this Dutch/French island, St Maarten). We are anchored inside the lagoon, very protected. We wondered if we could locate Pete and Kate here, and we found them immediately on our way in. Thirty years ago I flew home from here for a job interview, leaving Hallie and her mother aboard the Ace of Hearts. The lagoon is of course just as secure today as it was then, but now there are marinas right and left, festooned with superyachts. It doesn’t feel as classy to me as English/Falmouth Harbours of Antigua, but here the sheer number of mega boats is astounding.

We hear that the French side of the island celebrates Mardi Gras Monday and Tuesday. Maybe we will stay for the party Monday night, before setting sail for the British Virgin Islands.

We’ve had a busy week, trying to enjoy as much of the Eastern Caribbean as possible, while getting to Antigua in time for Harry’s departure and Hallie’s arrival — both today.

From Barbados we sailed overnight to Prickly Bay, Grenada. I was a bit taken aback by the crowd of boats in the bay. But we found an empty mooring. And clearing in was pleasant, and there was good pizza and draft beer and showers and music and great internet. What’s not to like!? Next day we met a taxi driver who put together an island tour for us. The first stop was the Spice and Herb Garden, with a guide and straight-from-the-plant samples of everything — nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, black pepper, clove, tamarind, cacao, and plenty more that I can’t remember. Loved it! Then a hearty lunch where the locals eat, followed by a hike to a waterfall for a refreshing dip. On the way back we passed through the old downtown of St George. Everywhere we saw fresh red, yellow and green paint — the colors of Grenada — in preparation for Independence Day approaching.

The island was much prettier than Barbados, the sights more interesting, the prices lower, and my sense was that the people were more “real.” Would be nice to linger, but no time for that. In the morning we began our trek north.

Carriacou is only 30 miles away, but it was a beat to windward. It took us longer than expected, and we arrived at Tyrell Bay after dark. It looked like an easy approach on the chart, but again we were surprised by the number of boats in the anchorage. We had to thread our way among them in the moonlight to find a parking space.

In the morning we went ashore and the others found some fruit and veggies while I waited in line to clear out. Then we had another breezy beat to windward to Union Island, just 9 miles away. We enjoyed sailing past several other boats, and we enjoyed watching a much larger and very sleek boat zoom past us.

An interesting thing happened along the way. Another sailboat hailed us on the VHF radio distress channel. They had engine problems, they said, and they were having trouble sailing into the strong wind, and they asked if we would give them a tow. A tow?? This got me angry, and it took me a while to sort out why. I stayed off the radio, while Bill talked with them and basically said it wasn’t feasible for us to tow them. But if I had been clear about my reaction, I would have said this: I will of course provide whatever assistance I can in an emergency; but this is not an emergency. You are sailing okay even though you are making limited headway; you can turn downwind and head for an alternate anchorage; you can turn back to Carriacou. Trying to take you in tow is risky, and likely to turn a challenging situation into a dangerous one.

What made me angry was their putting me in the position of making a judgment call about their level of “distress,” which they should have made on their own. In the end, they turned back toward Carriacou.

We arrived at Clifton, on Union Island, late in the day, and took a mooring in the crowded harbor. Ashore I got to wait in a long line for the second time that day, to clear into St Vincent and the Grenadines. The cumbersome formalities plus the substantial fees are annoying; add a long wait and it gets old fast!

Next morning we are off to the fabled Tobago Cays — a maze of reefs and tiny islands that are (or at least were) remote and unspoiled and beautiful. Unlike 30 years ago, when Hallie and I visited, the anchorages behind the islands were packed. But there was plenty of open space on the windward side of the islands, protected only by the reef. I love behind-the-reef anchorages, and I liked this one, but it was very windy and rather bouncy.

The snorkeling here has a great reputation, but it was a bit rough to appreciate it. The more intrepid of the crew swam out to the coral heads by the reef. The rest of us still got to watch sea turtles feeding. A local came by in a boat selling T-shirts, which didn’t grab me. But he got my attention when he said he also had banana bread, which we bought. Then I asked if he couldn’t bring us a lobster dinner, too, and he said he would contact his buddy Free Willy, who would provide this service. The price tag was high, but we decided it was too good an opportunity to pass up. Willy came by later to confirm our reservation. But when our scheduled 6pm came around, no Willy. As 7pm approached, I started water for pasta, but just then a boat approached. Let’s just say that it was worth the wait, as well as the cost. Big lobsters, somehow still hot, plus baked potatoes and veggies and rice. A feast!

It would have been nice to stay in the area longer, but we had no time to spare. In the morning it was on to Bequia, where we could clear out of the Grenadines. Bequia has a huge and beautiful yacht anchorage, and yachts seem to be the primary business (only the occasional relatively small cruise ship). Easy anchoring, easy dinghying ashore, a nice boardwalk into town, the best burger I’ve had outside the USA, and excellent smoothies. The woman doing smoothies gave me a long stare. She said I look so much like her father that she thought I was him. (I have a tan, but not close to her skin color, but who knows what color her father is?) I asked about the white hair and beard. Yup, the same as her father. I didn’t think to ask her if she had a photo; I wish I had.

As dusk set in we were off again, for an overnight to Martinique. Another hard slog to windward, but at least we could make it on a single tack. We found a nice anchorage off of downtown Fort de France, and headed ashore to clear in and find croissants. Clearing in was a pleasure! You go to the marine supply store, they point you to a computer kiosk, you fill in the info, they print it out and sign it, and you’re done. No cost! No passport stamps (which I appreciated because I’m out of room in my passport)!

In the bakery a man gave me the hearty hello of an old friend. I gave him a blank stare back…and asked if he was on a yacht. No, he lives in Martinique…and he continued to insist that he knows me. Instead of walking off mystified, I wish I had had the presence of mind to ask if he also knows my daughter who makes smoothies in Bequia!

I enjoyed being in the French city, and would have liked to spend a week there. But we had six hours only, before embarking on another overnight to Antigua.

We made it late the next day, and anchored in spacious Falmouth Harbour. And then we had a full day to check in, explore ashore, gawk at the many superyachts and superduperyachts, get Harry removed from our crew list, and Skype with Hallie. There have been some stresses back home, plus a snowstorm threatening her flight out, and Hallie was looking for some understanding and support from me. But I had no space for hearing about her concerns, and I went into a rant about the crazy stresses I’d been through for the past week. I hadn’t realized how much the constant moving and dealing with the formalities and trying to keep to the schedule had got me wound tight, until I lost it on that call. And Hallie of course had no idea that I hadn’t spent the week enjoying rum punches in the sunshine by the beach. My rant was cathartic, and luckily Hallie was understanding. All ended well.

In the evening we took the long walk up to Shirley Heights. We had been told there would be music and a big barbecue there, but we were a day early. Arriving just after sunset, almost everyone else had left, and we were the only ones dining there. This worked out just fine. We enjoyed chatting with Danny, the bartender/server, and Harry treated the rest of us to a delightful celebratory meal. Beautiful view of the superyachts in the harbor below. And a pleasant walk back down to sea level after our feast.

A little story about Shirley Heights… When Hallie and I sailed to Antigua 30 years ago, before navigation was revolutionized by GPS, we approached the island in the dark. We were sailing in tandem with another boat that had radar, and they thought with radar they would be able to find the entrance to English Harbour. But the entrance was not discernible on radar, so we had a problem! The other boat made a call on the VHF radio distress channel, asking for help identifying the entrance. To my surprise the call was answered by the bar/restaurant atop Shirley Heights, adjacent to the harbour. They said they would flash the lights of the restaurant to help us locate the entrance. They did, and we got in okay. Apparently they have done this for other boats needing help as well. No longer though, as the bar no longer monitors the VHF distress channel. Of course, with GPS and a chart plotter there is no longer the need, as boats know exactly where they are (assuming the electronics are working).

Harry got to the airport; Hallie arrived on time despite the snowstorm in the Northeast, and she still loves me. The crew (now Bill, Nora, Hallie and me) had another fine dinner ashore. Tomorrow we need to make a plan to do some (relaxed) cruising!