Saw the ship rigged schooner that was the school ship in White Squall. Attractive wooden ship… does mostly day sails out of Rodney Bay but we also saw her in Bequia. Beautiful ship.

12/28/2002

After all the visiting, boat to boat, and all the wonderful meals ashore in Bequia, we were ready for a break. On Christmas, we stayed aboard. I lazed the day, reading and watching movies on television, reaping the benefits of recent between boat trades, while Shirley performed magic yet again in the galley. It was another wonderful, traditional holiday meal with roast turkey, dressing, and all the fixins.

With regrets, we pulled up the anchor and departed Admiralty Bay, Bequia, a truly wonderful place much enjoyed, for Rodney Bay, St Lucia on the 28th, departing about 0300. This is a 70 NM trip and we wanted to arrive in good daylight so the early departure was a must. It was indeed a black night. Many of the boats anchored around us had lights on… some did not. One boat had on their emergency strobe. The radar, scaled down to very short range, did pick out all the boats but maneuvering in and among them was still a bit tense. Once out in the main channel we relaxed, got up the sails, and settled in for the trip north.

We traveled north with s/v PASSION, a Morgan Out Island 41' crewed by Don and Marsha, and enjoyed the relatively rare "buddy boating" and opportunity to chat on the radio during the night.

Conditions varied depending on sheltering land masses. In the lee of an island, even a few miles off shore, the trade winds will generally be less but more gusty. Between the islands, stronger winds, strong currents and confused seas are the norm. We had sustained winds of about 20 kts, gusts up to mid to high 20's, and generally 6-8' seas, all from the ENE. AT EASE was active but manageable. Had we fallen off our rhumb line we could have sailed but that would have left us a thrashing run to the east when we arrived off St Lucia so we opted to motor sail much of the trip.

Just off St Lucia I noticed some bursts of spray, rolling bodies and broken water a few hundred yards off our port beam. It appeared to be either a large group of dolphin or a couple of whales... there were two distinct blows. Both Shirley and I watched this as it moved down our port side and had about given up when suddenly both whales sounded, flinging their tails abruptly into the air in an impressive display of synchrony. They really should give some warning before presenting such a strikingly photogenic moment.

The arrival was uneventful. We motored in to the inner lagoon and tied up at Rodney Bay Marina, our first marina stay since St Maartin some six months ago. Very professional dock hands and dock master. Lovely time… so nice we extended our stay through New Year's.

This is a rather urban island, complete with malls and resorts and cruise ships and all the tourist-related businesses to separate money from sunburned bodies. We did take a taxi tour of the island, visiting the Pitons, a natural park area, and the steaming and bubbling volcano which is now mostly a hot sulfur spring with evidence of relatively recent mud eruptions. More interesting to me were the ruins, some restored, of the old British fort on Pigeon Island, protecting the entrance into Rodney Bay. There is the typical stone redoubt on the hill top but also some remaining 18th Century buildings on the lower levels. The old officer quarters has been partially redone and now houses the museum. There is a wonderful, rustic restaurant on the beach overlooking Rodney Bay, and a marvelous English pub in the restored basement of the officer quarters. Original stone walls and arches, very low ceilings (average height then was 5'2") and exposed beams lent a wonderful quality to it all. We celebrated New Years here, both dinner at the restaurant, lamb stew, memorable for its profusion of roaches running across our feet as we sat on the outdoor deck, and later drinks at the Captain's Cellar where we played darts and had a great visit with its colorful English owner.

Well past our bedtime, about 2230, we returned to the boat and napped until midnight when we watched fireworks. Our location allowed us to see three different displays, all using beautiful Rodney Bay as a backdrop. Our friends on PASSION sounded the New Year on their conch horn… we had to rely on a more conventional horn, but sound we did. Then to sleep, perchance to dream, under this beautiful tropical sky, dense with stars, and bathed in cool, dry air that made snuggling under a sheet a delight.

A belated Merry Christmas photo from Bill & Shirley aboard At Ease!

12/25/2002

Stayed aboard for a wonderful, traditional meal prepared by Shirley… turkey and all the trimmings. A lazy day of movies and reading and digesting and enjoying the holiday alone. Our social life here has been very active with visits here and there and many enjoyable outings on the beach.

12/24/2002

Christmas Eve dinner ashore at the Frangiapani Hotel. Beautiful location, good steak meal, and dancing later to live music from a local band. We had earlier turned the island via pickup "taxi" and seen the Whaling Mueseum and Turtle Sanctuary and other points of interest.

Great evening celebrating, once again with crews from BONNY LYNN (Earl and Bonnie), HONEY (Dave and Cindy), and PASSION (Don and Marsha). Our stay here had included numerous outings with all, and numerous visits to one another's' boats for sundowners and conversation. We also did a taxi tour of the island, out to the Turtle Sanctuary, and around to Friendship Bay to look at the beaches and resort hotel there. This included a brief stop at the Whaling Museum, really a room in a local house with a few pictures and artifacts residual from Bequia's whaling history.

BONNY LYNN is a 57' topsail schooner from Maine and is in the charter business. She's a beautiful, modern steel ship but built in a very traditional style with a truly impressive sail potential. She charters from Maine in the summer, the Caribbean in the winter.

HONEY is a 45' steel sloop, newly purchased by Earl and Cindy in Trinidad and now making her way back to the US.

12/21/02

Snorkeled off of Moonhole, Bequia. Weird rock houses into wall of steep cliffs but pretty water. Lots of rocks, some coral. Pretty fish.

12/23/02

While in Admiralty Bay, Bequia, Shirley and I rescued a wind surfer, a Swiss woman visiting (chartering?) aboard an anchored boat. She was bikini clad, sitting on her board with no floatation, already at the mouth of the harbor channel and outbound with the tide and wind, apparently underway to Panama. We passed somewhat near her in the dinghy while on our way to another boat for cocktails. She made no signal at all, certainly none of distress, but just looked done in. I asked her, actually three times if she needed assistance, even turned and went back to satisfy myself she was okay, and got garbled answers that she was waiting for others from the boat she was on to come and get her, but also said there was no one on the boat… all ashore.

We took her under tow, later transferred her to the dinghy and towed the board and sail, in to the anchorage where she surprised us by not being able to identify the boat she was visiting apart from its flag (British) and the number of masts. We motored around among the 70-100 boats, searching out British flags on two-masted vessels and finally found a likely looking one where we dropped her off.

Later, we went back to the boat and spoke with the embarrassed captain who said she had been aboard one day, had misrepresented her skills, and had not told him she was going off on her own. He seemed more than a bit "put out" with his guest and graciously offered to buy us a beer in appreciation. We took a rain check but I had to wonder… if a Swiss woman in a bikini is worth two beers, how much would a similarly attired Swedish masseuse, or a Spanish dancer, be worth?

12/16/2002

On Saturday, we came north from Tobago Cays to Admiralty Bay on Bequia. What a wonderful sail! We had a marvelous 15-20 kt wind from the east, largely on the beam with some backing to the ENE as we moved along the 24 NM track. Seas were from the NE in the 4-6' range with a comfortable long swell apart from a few confused areas created by the inter-island channel currents. Bright sun, blue skies and a few scattered rain squalls off in the distance made it all the more beautiful.

We rigged a reef in the main, actually that's the normal state down here, and rolled out both the headsails, then just kicked back in the cockpit and let the autopilot do the work. Boat speeds over ground were in the 5-6 kt range throughout the trip. The boat's motion is always more natural under sail than with the engine so the ride was comfortable… a real delight to all concerned. Even Saylor abandoned her "foul weather position" down in the well of the cockpit and stood on the foredeck watching the world go by for part of the morning.

We decided to bypass Mustique, off to the east of our route but well within visible range, because of its notoriously expensive and somewhat inhospitable reputation. Mooring or anchoring in its harbor has a fee of $20 US the first night and $12 US thereafter. Ashore, prices are very high indeed. One has to think it is a deliberate attempt to keep away many boaters such as ourselves. Mustique is known as a vacation haven for the very wealthy who apparently require a good deal of exclusivity. Some "do" Mustique in an effort to catch a glimpse of a celebrity. I'm afraid we would not recognize most celebrities without a program or guide so suspect we would be wasting our time.

On the other hand, Bequia is absolutely delightful. Admiralty Bay is very large and well protected by high ground all around. It is filling slowly with cruisers and charter boats, including some beautiful schooners and at least one a square sailed schooner . The hills are forested, but don't seem especially jungled, and steep, falling off to white sand beaches and beautiful light blue water over a sandy bottom. The beaches have the requisite palm trees swaying in the breeze just to remind us we are in paradise. The village, Port Elizabeth, lines the bottom of the Bay and moves back up the surrounding hills enough where one just knows each house has a spectacular view. There is a commercial pier used by ferries and inter-island steamers, and a number of dinghy docks sponsored by various local businesses; a hotel, restaurants, bars and dive shops. Curving along the very edge of the beach is a little walk way, sometimes only a path on the beach, which is shaded by trees or flowering shrubs and which is the primary access to the various businesses around the harbor.

One is struck by how clean and neatly arranged it all seems. The businesses are colorful, the people openly friendly and attractive, and there is less sense of poverty, less intensity and intrusiveness in salesmanship, than is evident on so many other islands. We went out for drinks and dinner and to meet other cruisers ashore. The bistros along the beach are open to the air, and to the spectacular sunsets, well appointed and comfortable. Prices were probably about the same as the US but certainly cheaper than Florida and other "resort" locations. The quality of food and service was excellent… more a European standard. Some live music by quite good local groups provides a pleasant background to conversation without the fierce competition among various bars with amplifiers found so often elsewhere. Perhaps most telling… customers certainly included cruisers and tourists, mostly Europeans, but also included significant numbers of Bequians and their families out for the evening. The blending of all seemed quite effortless.

Bequia has a strong maritime tradition. Whaling brought many people to this island way back when and many stayed. Traditions continue, even some whaling. At least one of the bars used huge whale bones for a fence and arched gateway, and the bar is built with whalebone. They build their own sailing vessels, typically single masted with gaff sail rigs, ranging in size from small fishing boats under 20' up to schooners as large as 130'. There are still commercial sailing vessels plying these waters hauling cargo between the islands. There are numbers of local boats drawn up on the beach, obviously actively used, and we happened to see a local race of some of the smaller boats launching from the beach and flying down the harbor rigged wing on wing then turning to beat home tack on tack. They seem overpowered but under control from the large crews scrambling to counter the pronounced heeling in the gusty air.

There is a tradition locally for celebrating Christmas, called Nine Mornings, which involves very active partying as well as very early (0400) morning Christmas caroling. Now I don't think this is folks getting up at 0400 to sing… I think this is the end of the party the night before. Apparently the festivities move from location to location over the nine days, and maybe there are some theme differences each day, but I get the sense that the partying is pretty well the same. This is all much past our bedtime, although we did stay up until 2130 last night.

All in all, we love Bequia… certainly among our favorite places. We will stay here over Christmas, do some touring ashore, and then move on north.

12/13/2002

Tobago Cays… truly a paradise! We are anchored just inside a crescent reef protecting us from the Atlantic and easily marked by the consistent line of foamy breakers. Around us are several islets with elevations of 20-30 feet in places but mostly just white sandy beaches and scrub, mangrove-like brush, with palms standing over all. We're anchored into the wind, almost due east, with 15-20 kts of trade wind cooling the boat and producing beau coup energy, but with only the most gentle of boat movements, rocked by a loving mother-sea, in these surprisingly calm waters. Simon and Garfunkel are serenading us on the stereo, happy hour has been declared, and all is right with the world.

The entire area of the Cays probably includes some 1500 meters square and there are something like 20-30 boats anchored at any time, 80% charter boats, lots of Germans and French, a few British and Yanks, and there is no sense of being crowded at all. The water is every bit as clear and sparkling as in the Bahamas and the reefs are stunning with alternating patches of brightly colorful coral and clean, white sand. Standing tall in the cockpit, one can maneuver around the coral and onto the sand beds, to anchor. We had a wonderful swim, snorkeling over the coral, drifting with the current and towing our dinghy along with us. There are abundant fish, not only the large reef fish, but a profusion of small, brightly colored tropical fish. Everything from grouper to lobster to see, all protected so no harvesting please. It really is like snorkeling in an aquarium with the fan, brain and staghorn coral, and more exotic coral species I don't know, up close and personal. Both of us have smallish abrasions to prove it.

"Boat boys", locals with wooden fishing boats and outboards who can, or at least do, fish these protected waters (we can't), are in and out of the anchorage selling freshly caught fish and lobster, produce and fresh bread, daily. They're not intrusive… just actively selling a service. But it isn't cheap! We cruisers tend to think the charter boats have inflated prices. The vendors want essentially US prices for fish and lobster. We cruisers want Trinidad costs. I suspect we are the ones that are unrealistic.

Saylor, our erstwhile crew dog, has had her run on the beach again today. She charges ashore, does donuts in the sand, rolls until covered in sand, then charges into the surf to refresh. We tried to play "fetch" but she is either rusty or extraordinarily proprietary… sticks, once acquired, never came back. Tomorrow, she'll lay around all day, recovering. We probably will too. We will read… she will sleep and hope that someone will show up that wants to rub on her.

Christmas looms on the horizon. Cruisers down here congregate either at Martinique or Bequia for the holiday. We're going to struggle with another tropical Christmas, with no real access to the shopping frenzy associated with the holiday. We do hope to find some boats/crews we know in Bequia… seems like Christmas needs friends if not family. If we strike out there, we will move on to Martinique and hope we find kindred souls there. Many of the folks we have cruised on and off with have moved on west, toward the Canal, with Pacific stars in their eyes. But there are those heading back north, at their own paces, and we just have to hope we'll cross rhumb lines soon as we make our individual decisions about traveling weather, islands to visit, where to linger, and do we really feel like sailing today.12/10/2002 We motored out of Hillsborough, Carriacou to Petite Martinique where a promise of cheap(er) fuel beckoned. This was a 10 NM motor around the northern end of Carriacou against foul wind but with smaller seas. Even Saylor, our salty crew dog, felt comfortable enough to stand on the foredeck until we turned due east and the spray started coming aboard. Fueling was relatively uneventful with a T-pier in deep water and with prevalent wind holding us off. It's hard for me to call fuel at $2.32 per gallon US cheap but there you have it. We departed to motor around some offshore reefs and shoals, then turned north to run into Clifton, Union Island, part of St Vincent and the Grenadines.

Entering this harbor was trickier. There are a couple of markers showing the entrance but the reefs are obvious in good visibility. There is even a reef through the middle of the harbor, well marked by a local freight hauler laying on its side, that separates the two anchorages. This is a "major" day charter market with large cats predominating, and a commercial pier where inter-island steamers offload consumer cargo. The day charter boats are in and out throughout the day and move rapidly through the tightly packed boats, mostly on moorings. Many of the moorings are marked by floating gallon jugs of one variety or another. Some are available, many are private (for charter boats).

As we turned to enter the harbor, a 20 foot outboard, typical fishing boats here, came charging out with the pilot yelling and waving. We thought at first we were threatening his nets but the real motivation was to lead us to a mooring (or sell us fish, ice, lobster, and probably a t-shirt or two). He buzzed around and across our bow, aggressively ignoring our calls that we would anchor, leaving us only to go pester another cruiser coming in with a square rigger and underpowered diesel. I know he appreciated the attention. This was our first real exposure to the very aggressive "boat boys" which will proliferate from here north.

We had towed the dink, sans engine, over this short trip but dropping the engine onto our dink, in this wave-tossed harbor, was pretty active. The harbor is only protected by a reef. It breaks the ocean swells but not the wind and there is enough fetch to create a confused pattern of white caps in the harbor. I went ashore to clear in, filled out the usual set of official forms overseen by officious and uniformed functionaries, and was informed I would have to check in my shotgun. I resisted… I had no intention of heading back south to clear out before leaving St Vincent waters. I was prepared to just depart but surprisingly we found room for compromise. The senior officer accompanied me back to the boat (and got more than a little wet from spray), and attached a seal (numbered nylon band) through the open receiver so the weapon would be disabled while in their waters. How nice of him!

Exploring ashore, we found a more cosmopolitan community than expected. The French influence is surprising and produces wonderful breads and cheese as well as good French wines. There are a number of restaurants but even more markets selling a good variety of food, and the now expected stalls selling fresh produce. Prices are higher than we would like. The large number of charter boat customers has apparently been inflationary.

We're having a bit of a lull in the weather. For the last few days we have had to turn on equipment and turn off the wind generator to manage the high charging levels of energy going into our batteries. The wind is laying a bit… down to 20 kts and maybe down to 15 kts by tomorrow. We'll take advantage of that to move out to Tobago Cays. The reefs and water there are reportedly beautiful but protected from the open Atlantic only by low reefs. They should be manageable now with the reduced trades. If not, there is a sheltered harbor within miles… and another wonderful restaurant awaiting.

12/10/2002

We motored out of Hillsborough, Carriacou to Petite Martinique where a promise of cheap(er) fuel beckoned. This was a 10 NM motor around the northern end of Carriacou against foul wind but with smaller seas. Even Saylor, our salty crew dog, felt comfortable enough to stand on the foredeck until we turned due east and the spray started coming aboard. Fueling was relatively uneventful with a T-pier in deep water and with prevalent wind holding us off. It's hard for me to call fuel at $2.32 per gallon US cheap but there you have it. We departed to motor around some offshore reefs and shoals, then turned north to run into Clifton, Union Island, part of St Vincent and the Grenadines.

Entering this harbor was trickier. There are a couple of markers showing the entrance but the reefs are obvious in good visibility. There is even a reef through the middle of the harbor, well marked by a local freight hauler laying on its side, that separates the two anchorages. This is a "major" day charter market with large cats predominating, and a commercial pier where inter-island steamers offload consumer cargo. The day charter boats are in and out throughout the day and move rapidly through the tightly packed boats, mostly on moorings. Many of the moorings are marked by floating gallon jugs of one variety or another. Some are available, many are private (for charter boats).

As we turned to enter the harbor, a 20 foot outboard, typical fishing boats here, came charging out with the pilot yelling and waving. We thought at first we were threatening his nets but the real motivation was to lead us to a mooring (or sell us fish, ice, lobster, and probably a t-shirt or two). He buzzed around and across our bow, aggressively ignoring our calls that we would anchor, leaving us only to go pester another cruiser coming in with a square rigger and underpowered diesel. I know he appreciated the attention. This was our first real exposure to the very aggressive "boat boys" which will proliferate from here north.

We had towed the dink, sans engine, over this short trip but dropping the engine onto our dink, in this wave-tossed harbor, was pretty active. The harbor is only protected by a reef. It breaks the ocean swells but not the wind and there is enough fetch to create a confused pattern of white caps in the harbor. I went ashore to clear in, filled out the usual set of official forms overseen by officious and uniformed functionaries, and was informed I would have to check in my shotgun. I resisted… I had no intention of heading back south to clear out before leaving St Vincent waters. I was prepared to just depart but surprisingly we found room for compromise. The senior officer accompanied me back to the boat (and got more than a little wet from spray), and attached a seal (numbered nylon band) through the open receiver so the weapon would be disabled while in their waters. How nice of him!

Exploring ashore, we found a more cosmopolitan community than expected. The French influence is surprising and produces wonderful breads and cheese as well as good French wines. There are a number of restaurants but even more markets selling a good variety of food, and the now expected stalls selling fresh produce. Prices are higher than we would like. The large number of charter boat customers has apparently been inflationary.

We're having a bit of a lull in the weather. For the last few days we have had to turn on equipment and turn off the wind generator to manage the high charging levels of energy going into our batteries. The wind is laying a bit… down to 20 kts and maybe down to 15 kts by tomorrow. We'll take advantage of that to move out to Tobago Cays. The reefs and water there are reportedly beautiful but protected from the open Atlantic only by low reefs. They should be manageable now with the reduced trades. If not, there is a sheltered harbor within miles… and another wonderful restaurant awaiting.

Web Posted December 9th, 2002

We departed Prickly Bay, Grenada on the 5th, and motorsailed up the west coast before jumping off across the channel between Grenada and Carriacou. The route took us probably over the site of an underwater volcano, Kick-Em Jenny, which has been inactive since 1989. Weather conditions are seasonally normal. This is the time of the "Christmas Winds", a higher than normal trade wind that blows 20-25 kts, up to 30 kts, generally from the E or ENE. Most travel up and down on the west coast to take advantage of the lee of the islands, but moving across the channels between islands gets plum boisterous, with wind and waves and swell and currents, under essentially all conditions.

We were not able to clear out of Grenada until 0930… I had to wait for the Customs Officer to return my shotgun before I could leave. That pushed us a bit, time wise. For our trip, an 8 hour run, we had to contend with a wind more from the NE, with relative speeds in the 25-30 kt range, and somewhat confused seas given the prevalent swells and the wind-generated waves. We wanted to sail but the wind was just too close to the rhumb line. To fall off and sail, tacking back and forth, would have taken too much time and we would have had an after dark arrival in Carriacou. Entering unknown anchorages, through reefs and shoals, is not a pleasant activity once that sun is down. Southbound boats, mainly charter boats, had a spirited down wind sail and were really tearing by. We, on the other hand, had a reef in the main and were banging and crashing, keeping a plume of spray over the boat, both huddled under the dodger as sheets of rather cold water crashed against the canopy. Even with the pitching, bucking deck all day long, it was a wonderful ride but one did have to hang on. Once we had the ETA pinned down a little more accurately we were able to back off the speed and make the ride a bit less athletic.

The amount of water that came aboard was considerable and the force on the foredeck must have been impressive. After our arrival, I went forward and noticed one of our dorades, a large stainless steel ventilator, had literally unscrewed itself from the dorade box and was lying loose on the deck. Once, on an earlier trip, the water coming aboard had unscrewed the top from a water jerry can and them filled the upright can with sea water. As usual, AT EASE took it all in stride and gave us a great ride. The autopilot and navigational system performed well. We monitored instruments, and watched the beautiful scenery… the water, flying fish, porpoise, passing boats and the distant island.

We arrived at Hillsborough, Carriacou and got the anchor down less than 15 minutes before it was too dark to see. The next day we moved around to Tyrrel Bay, a more popular anchorage for cruisers, where we anchored again off of the Yacht Club. Like many of the Yacht Clubs down here, it is really just a business, but a business that is especially gracious to transient cruisers providing a dinghy dock, convivial bar and nice restaurant.

Carriacou, an island just north of Grenada, is as different from Grenada as Tobago is different from Trinidad. The sailing guidebook describes it as an island with "over a hundred rum shops and only one gas station." The anchorages are pleasant, flanked with both sand beaches and rocky faces, with offshore reefs for diving and snorkeling. The hills are lush and green but not nearly as high as the mountains of Grenada. The people are actively friendly and eagerly developing their tourist economy. Prices are higher than expected… charter boats and their vacationer crews seem to have been inflationary. Cruisers are much tighter with the dollar. A local fisherman pulled along side to offer fresh limes, oysters or lobsters but all at stateside prices. For example, he wanted $6 US a pound for lobster.

This is the peak of the charter season and charter boats are numerous everywhere one turns. They are conspicuous by their bare hulls… no extra jerry cans of fuel or water and no radar or wind generators. Many do have a few solar panels, probably just to keep the batteries topped off while awaiting charters. They pull into the anchorages in the early afternoons, drop anchors hither and yon, frequently on top of other boats already anchored, then flock ashore to eat and drink in the local bistros. They are obviously having a ball… and why shouldn't they. Both the island and surrounding water easily qualify as paradise.

We have explored ashore and will do some exploring by dinghy today. I have some chores… need to grease the windlass and get my scuba tank refilled. There is a French restaurant ashore that has a good reputation. Then we return to Hillsborough, clear out of Grenada waters, and move on into islands controlled by St Vincent.

AT EASE is moving again and how delightful it feels. We're off to Tobago. The 80 NM distance really is just too long for a day and most avoid arriving at strange harbors in the dark, so we planned an overnight trip. We departed Chaguaramas, Trinidad about 1400 on Monday and motored along Trinidad's north coast until we could turn to directly cross Galleon Passage, the 20 or so mile channel between Trinidad and Tobago. All this was into a brisk 15-20 kt wind and 5-7' seas, all directly on our nose as we moved east. I did use the staysail just to stabilize the boat and reduce some of the rolling but it was really just a motor trip, about a mile off the coast to minimize the adverse current. The Equatorial Current is quite strong in these waters, anywhere from 1.5-4 kts, and can make for some very uncomfortable passages but we really had a delightful trip. The waves, really more swell, were of the long interval, Atlantic variety and made for a nice motion most of the time. The autopilot managed all the tricky steering that the current demanded, and the radar did a pretty good job keeping watch... but only pretty good. Fishing is a significant part of the economy for both Trinidad's north coast and for Tobago and the boats were out.

These boats are open, high prowl, wooden boats of 20-25' length, powered by outboards. They have little radar signature, no lights unless they shine a flashlight when one approaches dangerously near, and are invisible much of the time down in the trough of the swells anyway. They make a watch demanding when within a mile or so of shore. I can only imagine how terrified they must be at the close misses… but then maybe not.

We intended to clear in to Immigrations and Customs at Scarborough harbor, on the south coast of Tobago, but when we arrived about 0800 the next morning, we found the anchorage there really unsafe with what felt like a solid rock bottom and too much commercial activity. We got some unsolicited help from the Coast Guard pier, one person yelling directions and gesturing wildly, but not understandably. Shirley asked him to call on VHF radio but he replied "Nah man… the receiver don't work." Yeah… that's their Coast Guard. I tried twice to get a good anchor down but just felt, and could even hear, growls from the chain as it drug across the bottom. We drug until it grabbed something but wouldn't take much load before it wanted to slip again. We dared to drop the dinghy to quickly go ashore and clear in. Next discovery… no dinghy dock. We had to walk several blocks around the harbor to the appropriate offices and this through a community which seemed very much like the frantic exploit-the-tourist sort of environment one finds in places like Nassau. We changed our minds. Back to the boat, up anchor, and off to Man of War Bay and Charlottesville, on the extreme NE point of the island. Again, to minimize contrary current and seas, we went to the north coast and stayed within a mile or so of shore and motored using only a staysail for stability.

Man of War Bay is a beautiful crescent bay, deep and protected from anything other than a north wind, surrounded by the same sort of very steep, heavily jungled elevations found in northern Trinidad. The Inter Tropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ) is active this far north of the equator and the wet air turns to clouds as it rises to these elevations so the trees seem to be wrapped in streams of wispy clouds moving along the heights. Nestled into one end of the bay is Charlottesville, a small community of no more than a couple of thousand, maybe less, who live mostly by seine net fishing in the Bay and near offshore waters. I understand they put spotters in the hills who note feeding clusters of fish and then direct the boats to surround them with nets. The waterfront is fringed with small shops or stands, each selling produce or fish or whatever, and the typical bars with loud mixes of calypso and rap music. The community has no bank and only one gas station. Today... no gas. Today... a town wide shortage of currency for change.

The water is clear again and I understand the snorkeling and diving is excellent all along the coast with rocks and reefs and coral and abundant fish. It is all quite beautiful with the colorful houses in amongst the thick foliage, the palm trees adding their bit of exotica, and the dozen or so international cruising yachts riding at anchor in the aqua water. We feel renewed.

Bill and Shirley

Charlottesville, Tobago, WI (West Indies)

Web Posted November 21st, 2002

Clearing in to Immigration and Customs here in Charlotteville is a story itself. I always feel some pressure when clearing in simply because bureaucrats are pretty arbitrary and have frightening power to complicate one's life. They usually make a big thing out of reporting to their offices as soon as possible after arrival. This is complicated here because Trinidad and Tobago require firearms to be surrendered ashore for the duration of one's stay.

It's a rainy, cloudy morning with intermittent squalls. We drop the dinghy, mount the motor, grab our papers, don foul weather coats and head for the town pier to search out the authorities in their lairs. I chose not to bring our shotgun. I thought wandering around the community obviously armed was just a bit provocative and perhaps after I knew where I was going I could go more directly with less spectacle.

At the head of the pier was the first of two large signs demanding visiting vessels "report forthwith" to Customs and Immigration. We asked a young lady on shore for directions and she walked with us a block or so until she could point out the building. It was in an old post office building, just next to the police station, and immediately across from the fine new library which is the community's most modern, and air conditioned, building. It was already 0930. Opening hours are posted… 0800-1600. No one was there. I checked with the police station where the desk officer asked us to wait there as someone would come. Then he leaned out the door and yelled for someone to go get "the man" for the yachties. We waited about 45 minutes and then the Customs man arrived. He was dressed in a tee shirt and slacks but was obviously official as he carried a small brief case. One would have to assume that his night of drinking had only just terminated. To be charitable, we could say he was confused. I must have told him 20 times what time we had arrived. He seemed to stare at our papers but obviously wasn't reading them as he asked over and over for the very information they contained. He called the Immigration officer at his home to tell him he had people waiting. The Immigration officer just had him fill in a log book for him and had him tell us he (Immigration) would do the rest when we cleared out.

Customs man then told us it was all done and to leave. I reported that I had a firearm on board and wanted to bring it in. He became animated… asked a rapid series of questions about what kind of weapon and that it had to be declared… wanted the serial number and make and such and was adamant in telling me it should be on the document I submitted. I moved along side him, pointed to where it was all entered and, as quietly as possible, said "You mean like this".

I fetched the gun. He became even more animated. I repeatedly pointed out where the serial number was imprinted, where the manufacturer was identified and the model number. I helped him count the ammo several times. It was a struggle to keep him from making incorrect entries… several times I had to say "Sir, you're about to write down incorrect information." We finally finished and I got the gun back in the case. We had to carry it to the police station where it would be locked up until our departure. We had to wait for the rain to stop. It didn't. I finally got Shirley's umbrella, she was across the street in the library browsing, and he carried that for the trip to the police station where we did it all again.

Now, with receipt in hand, and all documents duly stamped and signed with official flourish, I assumed it was over. Not so! Mr Customs needed my umbrella to walk an additional half block to a raucous neighborhood bar already doing an active pre-lunch business on this rainy day.

Bill & Shirley, Tobago

Web Posted November 7th, 2002

We are ready to leave, but apparently not yet. We departed Trinidad on Thursday evening (in a heavy rain squall) and immediately had problems with electronics which had me down below troubleshooting wire for 30 minutes or so. After that (now it is deep black) we slipped between a couple of small islands and entered the Caribbean basin where long Atlantic swells from the NE rolled us through about 50 degrees. We motor sailed NW in 15 kts with 5-6' seas, dodging heavy commercial traffic with the aid of our radar, until about 2100 when a bang occurred and the autopilot stopped responding (broken mounting bracken on the drive motor). I deployed the Monitor self steering wind vane and we continued. Around 2200, while dodging an especially intrusive freighter, I discovered I couldn't turn to starboard. Unwilling to simply give up on half the world, we explored the netherworld down below and around our steering quadrant. Behold, the autopilot motor and drive were adrift and, with sharp edges on the broken mount, it was threatening a thru hull hose and our radar cable... also jamming against a bulkhead and preventing starboard turns. We freed that and established a watch so we could prevent further steering jams. A bit of duct tape sort of held it all together. We had emptied the lazarette locker and piled the mass of miscellaneous gear here and there in order to be able to open an aft inspection port and watch the broken drive as it danced around.

It didn't take long to make the decision to return to Trinidad... about 20-25 Nm. We had the steering under control, sort of, but didn't really want to get into any tight situations where rapid or dramatic steering would be needed. It seemed more prudent to return than continue toward Venezuela. Returning meant running into a 15 kt wind, 6 foot seas and a 1-2 kt adverse current. It took longer but we slipped back in between the islands and around to our old anchorage in Carenage Bay, just east of Chaguaramas, and got the hook down by 0300.

Repairs will be simple... just fabrication of a stainless steel (versus aluminum) plate for mounting the autopilot. I found I need to clean my raw water strainer also as the engine began to heat up if we ran it over 2200 RPM. That shouldn't be a surprise... a neighbor has to clean his generator strainer every week in these waters. Lots of stuff growing down there.

However, even after repairs, we are not likely to try for Margarita or Venezuela again. The last folks back told us that petty crime is now so bad that the 170 or so boats in Margarita are taking extraordinary security measures. Outboards are taken off, lifted and locked on the boat, dinghy's are then lifted and locked separately. Everything has to be taken out of the dinghy and off the boat's exposed decks and taken below to be locked up. Even shoes or sandals left in the dinghy will be stolen. The problem is overwhelming. There is simply too much expensive "stuff" exposed on a sailboat's deck to every get everything secure and then it is only as secure as a lock. Folks are going to stainless steel locks and large diameter chains. The authorities seem to have just given up. Even ashore, folks carry only copies of ID and passports, no jewelry or watches, no cameras, limited cash and no credit cards. And Margarita is considered "much safer' then the mainland!

We ask ourselves why would we want to go there? The folks who return to tell us about the precautions necessary typically end their tales with "You'll love it there." I can only assume they believe the low prices justify the increased risks. Not us! Not now! That's just not what we came out here for. There are risks everywhere and we accept that, but the situation in Venezuela now is just bizarre.

I think we will get everything shipshape, then wander off to Grenada, maybe Tobago, and wait out the rest of the hurricane season there before heading on up the islands. No real hurry... still some potential for storms during November.

Web Posted October 28th, 2002

Shirley and I joined a large group and went to the finals of the International Pan (steel) Band Competition. It was delightful… but way too long. The finals involved eight bands, each playing two pieces, one being calypso or island music and the other being classical. We heard bands trying everything from Romeo and Juliet to American in Paris. I thought I would have to take a book to deal with the boredom but was actually pretty entertained. It did go on and on… from seven to about one in the morning.

We made a decision… we're leaving Tuesday (the 29th) to sail to Los Testigos, then to Margarita, both offshore island's of Venezuela. Our stay here in Trinidad has actually been very nice with opportunities to get all sorts of boat projects completed and also plenty of things to do ashore. Yesterday we disassembled the salon hatch and frame, replace broken hinges, and rebedded the beast with a black bedding compound that gets on everything. That should be the last of the projects which impacted our seaworthiness.

The social life among the cruisers is very active… one has to make a conscious decision to stay on the boat and do nothing just to get a night off. The restaurants ashore are actually very good and very inexpensive, and the transportation system, the Maxi-taxi's (vans), make it easy to move about safely. Tomorrow, along with three other boat crews, we will do a bit of Americana… brunch at the Hilton in downtown Port of Spain. That will be our Bon Voyage Party.

Crime really hasn't been much of a problem here. There has been one mugging on the main street just outside of one boatyard, and reports of a dinghy missing here or there, but given the concentration of boats (hence potential targets) that has been little indeed. Both Shirley and I are a bit worried about Venezuela, even the offshore islands which are supposedly safer, but the fact is that quite a few boats go there and only a few are victims. I suppose it's all about probabilities. We've adapted to typical precautions… things to "harden the target" and make it more difficult for thieves. We hoist the dinghy and outboard every night and have chain and steel cable to secure everything with locks. We have air horns, flare guns, pepper spray and clubs below deck, and we have a dog who will certainly greet anyone boarding, day or night. She refuses to bark… I think she sees this as immature… but we believe the sound of her greeting, her wagging tail banging into deck fixtures, will wake us up.

AT EASE is in wonderful shape, but new equipment and systems will need sea trials to work out the bugs which seem to be inevitable. I've rewired my GPS-Computer-Autopilot so that I can drive the boat and computer from either GPS and can drive the autopilot directly from either GPS without the computer. This was all to build in more redundancy in our critical systems. Lots of wire… lots of terminals… lots of opportunities for something to work loose. At least I know where the likely culprits will be hiding now.

I haven't written much lately. There has been little to talk about other than maintenance issues and how exciting can all that be to anyone other than a dedicated boater. Maybe once underway there will be more interesting things to share.

We love hearing from you guys…

Web Posted October 23rd, 2002

We moved about 8 NM out from Chaguaramas to and island called Chacachacare, home of an abandoned Leper Colony that is being rather quickly eaten up by encroaching jungle. The colony was abandoned in 1984 after a cure for leprosy was discovered. It would appear that folks ate lunch one day and then just got up an left... everything. The old buildings have been looted some, I'm sure, but there remain old steel or iron beds and springs, mouldy mattresses, tables and such. There are medical records and old X-rays here and there. The roads and paths of the old village, even those covered in asphalt, are very difficult to identify now given the jungle and a machete is a handy aid to exploration. The only inhabitants of the island are the two Trinidadian Coast Guardsmen who stand watch at the lighthouse on the island's crest.

Like northern Trinidad, this island has very steep slopes, with here up to 800 feet of elevation, and is all densely jungled. We've walked the only maintained road up to the lighthouse for a spectacular view of both Trinidad and Venezuela which is only 7 NM away. We have explored the village pier and store area, the old generator building which produced island electricity, and various administrative and living areas. Many of the patients lived in duplexes of poured concrete set in niches carved out of the steep hills. They generally have pillars somewhere on the houses compensating for the lack of level ground. Water supplies seem limited to cisterns. The nuns lived on one side of the bay in three rather prominent houses. Local legend has it they ran the place like drill instructors and had one semi-mutiny by the patients at one point. There are several doctor's homes on the other side of the bay. One doctor's home, the most prominent and attractive, has been shot up pretty bad indoors, apparently by shotguns and buckshot. I suspect some military exercise rather than vandals given the number of rounds expended, pattern of shots, and the expensive ammo used. There just aren't the good ole boys with pickups and shotguns here that one would find in South Arkansas.

There is a large, crescent-shaped bay which opens to the south and within the bay are numerous inlets providing for relatively isolated anchorages. The bottom is rocky or coral covered and drops off of narrow shelves of 10-16 feet to depths of up to 100 feet even very close to shore. This is the best swimming and snorkeling we've had for some time. Some folks drop one anchor over the shelf and tie a stern line ashore. We opted for a single anchor, a Fortress, with some chain and then nylon rode, 250 feet total given then different depths. That leads to a pretty good swing as the wind backs, a daily event as the thermal convection marches through, but with one anchor we do swing to the wind and the boat is more comfortable. A boat accompanying us had to spend most of yesterday retrieving their anchor chain from around and under various rock or coral bottom obstructions, at depths from 18' to about 40'. We broke out my SCUBA gear and used pretty well the full tank of air before we finally got the anchor up and moved him into better water. AT EASE seems to be swinging well to the full rode so I think we are not fouled... won't know for sure until I lift all that up in the next couple of days.

We'll move back to Chaguaramas, Trinidad for a week or so before clearing out for Margarita, and island off the coast of Venezuela. Trinidad has been difficult to leave... there is so much going on. We still have to attend a (steel) pan band concert, the finals of an island wide competition, this coming weekend. The range of orchestral sounds a good band is capable of producing is truly amazing. We're expecting to hear everything from jazz through classical and, of course, calypso. Another factor driving or extended stay here is the need to stay south of 11 degrees latitude until the end of the hurricane season and the limited options that allows for travel. Everything interesting to the south is very far... 700 NM to Suriname and 1200 Nm just to the northern border of Brazil. The only thing immediately west is Venezuela and the domestic crime and political instability are pretty off putting. Crime there is rampant and is becoming even more common on the offshore islands where cruisers have felt safer heretofore. That is not a particularly attractive incentive to visit.

But we will be leaving Trinidad soon... there are parts of paradise that do beckon and we are indeed restless and eager to travel again. Even the short trip from Chaguaramas to Chacachacare was exciting. Just to be under sail again, and to have AT EASE electronics up and running, and to know we are still seaworthy, was delightful. Of course I did have to quickly repair some 12 volt wiring to get everything running again, but that's what sea trials are all about, isn't it?

Bill and Shirley

s/v AT EASE

Chacachacare, Trinidad, West Indies

Web Posted August 11th, 2002

We decided on another interval on the hard (in a boatyard) so selected the Power Boats Yard in Chaguaramas and were hauled on Thursday, the 8th. There are several issues. I needed to replace some thru hull fittings that were showing signs of corrosion and weeping, and Shirley wanted some help with stripping the teak and buffing/waxing the hull.

In the course of preparing for hauling, I also discovered that the boat's bottom was absolutely covered with barnacles. The prop was so covered I couldn't even generate enough energy to move the boat and had to dive and clean the prop before anything else. Sailors among you will also appreciate that the anchor chain itself, for the 10-15' immediately under the surface, also had such rich barnacle growth that I had over an inch of shell to scrape off as I hauled in the anchor. That was four weeks growth. Scraped off the hull, they made a significant pile of shells on the shore. Even then, the little white circles, calcium rings where they had adhered to the bottom, are so numerous on the bottom the affect is just staggering.

The Interlux CSC antifouling paint that worked so well in the Bahamas and on the east coast absolutely has failed this far down. Granted, Trinidad waters are notorious for their luxuriant barnacle growth, among the worst in the world, but the paint just has done nothing. So added to the boatyard list… new bottom paint to inhibit barnacle growth.

There is a paint, outlawed in the US, that will likely do the job and that's what I will have applied. Even to apply it to my bottom I will have to apply a primer to seal the bottom paint already present, then put on a couple of coats of the new product, Micron 44. It's the tin additive that makes it effective and has led to its being outlawed in the States.

I am also having the shaft of our 45 lb CQR anchor straightened… it was bent retrieving it from rocks in the Dominican Republic. I had anticipated that would baffle folks but apparently was done very easily. I accused the Trinidadian mechanic of just bending the blasted thing across his knee. He had it back that quickly.

A Chinese gentleman, who came with good recommendations from a friend, showed up to dismantle and rebuild and lubricate my winches… very reasonable it seemed. As part of his sales pitch, he had pictures of himself dismantling and rebuilding various winches, all on his kitchen table. Okay, one more item.

I will need an out of the water survey, a close inspection of the boat by a qualified, independent surveyor, before I renew the boat's insurance in January, so will go ahead and get that done here also.

I know to avoid "Boatyard Creep". That's the process of adding to one's work list, over and over, because it is just so reasonable and relatively easy, apart from the money involved, to get things done in a setting where services are so clustered. Sort of like going to Walmart and leaving with a shopping cart full when all you thought you would buy was light bulbs. But knowing to avoid boatyard creep, and then avoiding those impulsive decisions, is something else.

I made the mistake of talking to a German who manufactures and sells Echo water makers here. Pretty convincing fellow. Off the shelf components, modular assembly and 8 gals per hour with 19 amps of power. Cheaper than most water makers but still a major investment. Our existing unit makes only 1 gal per hour at a cost of 5 amps, and I think it may be approaching the end of its productive life. The pump housing is pretty corroded. We use about 5 gallons a day without working very hard at conserving, and carry 120 gallons so usually have plenty of water. However, to make our needs, and then some, in only one hour seems a bit like luxury. Next thing you know we'll be taking fresh water showers more than once a week. I think I will have the water maker installed.

Enough… I told the boat yard folks I would be here a week or less. I think now I will likely be here more than that. "No problem", they said in their West Indian best, all for a fee of course.

A comment on languages. Trinidadians speak English, probably better English than many of the other ostensibly "English" islands of the West Indies. Yet to consider this West Indian "English" and American "English" the same language is just bizarre. The only thing that makes it manageable is the tolerance displayed by all when the inevitable "What?", or "Huh?", response leads to a need to say it all again, sometimes over and over, until some combination of language, inflection, gesture or even plaintive moan produces an approximate guess as to meaning. The opportunities for misunderstanding are rife. The opportunities for goodwill in the face of adversity are even more plentiful. Somehow, it all works.

Boat yards are uncomfortable. The restrooms are a distance away and the boat's head is not functional outside of the water. Because the boat is setting on stands, and boat yards tend to be built in sheltered areas, the wind is unlikely to cooperate by blowing down the long axis, hence cooling the boat, as it does when anchored out. It is hot… humid… dusty… miserable. This is the general rule.

Air conditioning can be rented. Let's see… how long will it take me to make that decision? "There's a problem", they say, "we only rent air conditioners if you are staying for 10 days or longer."

"What might it cost if I did stay 10 days, or just paid for 10 days?"

"Oh… that might be as much as $25 dollars", they said.

If we skipped lunch, if Shirley did her Bubbles dance while I passed a hat, and if I didn't buy that new Makita grinder I've had my eyes on, I think we just might make it.

Here I sit, typing away, with an air conditioner blowing so cold I'm thinking about a sweater, obviously running the risk of a serious chill, while Shirley is out on a day's tour of swamps and jungle riding in a boat with a bunch of other cruisers, swatting mosquitoes and maybe trying on Dengue Fever.

Does she appreciate the sacrifices I make for her?

Around Trinidad, the water is a dark green… black mixed in with the aqua marine of the ocean. Scooped up, it is a weak tea, not truly dirty but neither is it the pristine, the starkly clear quality of the island waters along the way. The Orinoco River, that huge land-based power that must easily rival the Mississippi, whose complex delta is over a hundred miles south, still colors the ocean with its brush and body.

The mournful song of the wind, singing high then low, embracing, caressing the mast and rigging, while creaks and pings and slaps and bumps sound their own rhythm in accompaniment as AT EASE swoops and settles in the ever marching swells sweeping into the Carenage Bay, Trinidad anchorage on this southeasterly wind.

At anchor in Trinidad, looking east to the mid morning sun as the clouds build and billow over and around the green jungled hills, and wisps of fog and rain are clearly seen in the higher valleys, and it all marches inevitably west, this daily rain, to cross the bay, to splash and splatter on the anchored boats, all with their awnings and curtains and canvas, and faces looking out of hatches as the boats swing to the sudden wind.

Walking along the road, from place to place, careful not to look at the honking maxi cabs else they will think you want them to stop, recognizing other cruisers by their uniforms…tans, the wide brimmed sun hats, sandals and the ubiquitous backpacks, and their brightly colored bags from marine stores. Making eye contact and smiling, even saying hello to kindred souls, some of whom speak English but all of whom speak boat.

The Dinghy Dock, whether in the Bahamas, St Martin, Gernada or Trinidad, probably around the world, crowded with its confused mass of hard dinks, soft dinks, apparently abandoned and water filled dinks, and Caribe RIBs by the numbers, with short tethers, and long tethers all twisted and crossed and confused tethers, all pitching and thumping one another, as another dink arrives to play "bumper car", nosing in and among, to reach the dock and add to the congestion. "All ways room for one more", someone calls. They're right.

The Beach/Marina Tiki Bar, magically duplicated ahead of us, always there before us and open for business, and always the same with its small bottles of local beer, its coterie of dedicated, mostly grizzled, sun-dried cruisers of indeterminate age and sometimes gender, with an eager stereo playing something energetic, usually too loud, and the hopeful, the transient, the explorers pausing in their search to see if here there might be something different.

White plastic bags, tops dancing in the wind, and boxes, and bundles and cans and bottles and veggies and loafs of bread, and jugs of water and fuel, all heaped and crowding the dinghy dock, and all proclaiming another cruiser leaving for the next port. A window, weather-wise, to the world, beckons.

A forest of masts, dipping and dancing, rolling and waving, with wind generators twirling, and solar panels flashing… colorful flags of places only imagined announce and proclaim… and dinghies dash here and there on madcap errands, twisting with long white tails within the anchorage. Another dawn lights up a bay where cruisers pause to meet.

Lunch time, and hot and sweaty, entering Joe's Pizza, run by an Italian, populated with Trinidadian Indians, and European-American wanderers, eager for the spicy, cheesy treats of sandwiches and pizzas, Mexican beer and Diet Coke, but asking "Please, may I sit by the fan." What joy!

A daily ritual, the Trinidad Coast Guard Patrol Boat, on their every four hour ferry run to change the shift at offshore oil rigs, this time pausing alongside AT EASE, at anchor, to not miss the foredeck show, one Shirley (AKA Bubbles) soaping down and hosing down, a somewhat clothed body, with salt water. Tis the only time the Coast Guard hasn't rocked us with their wake.

A dinghy, on the beach and flipped for cleaning, engine leaning against a wall, each encased, a half inch deep in places, in barnacle-armor, a mere three weeks submerged. Off the beach, a parade of dinghies, each slowing in turn, with crew's sad smiles and empathic shaking of heads, and a few with all too cheerful and smugly vicious, "Have a nice day!"

Web Posted August 1st, 2002

All is well with my man, boat, and dog, and it is as hot and humid as Arkansas on the boat. When there is a breeze on this trade windless island, we are fairly cool, but when the wind quits blowing, we are steamy. It sounds terrible, but really isn't so bad. I had my first air conditioning in 1987 after starting to college and remember well those torrid days of canning vegetables without the benefit of cold air. Now instead of canning, I spend the hot of the day laid out on the fore peak with a good book and a cold bottle of water wearing as little clothing as possible but mindful of boats with children aboard. Sometimes a nap even sneaks up on me. When even the lightest of breezes fails, I join Bill below to hug the fan.

We caught a maxi taxi for the short ride into Chaguaramas Monday to check me back into immigration. On the mile or less walk back we were greeted by workers who had pulled their trucks in the shade for a brief mid day nap and by several Indians who were swimming and fishing on the banks of the bay. One couldn't really call the shoreline beaches. The water here is dark and white sand beaches are nonexistent. The shoreline is filled with litter that is later carried to sea by rains.

When we returned to Chaguaramas later that night for dinner with friends, probably 25 or more vehicles lined the short span of shoreline, and Indian families were swimming and fishing. Most Indians cheerfully returned our greetings, and one group even put on a playful display of banter with each other for our benefit.

Yesterday we caught Jesse James, famous among the cruisers, for a free maxi taxi ride into Port of Spain to shop at Shop Smart. Jesse, a young man expecting his first child, is truly an entrepreneur who manages a fleet of taxis for the cruisers. He arranges tours, for which he is paid, and free trips to Shop Smart, alias Sam's, and to the IGA. He does not charge for these trips and seems to have an arrangement where the store gives him a percentage of money spent. Jesse's system of managing all the cruisers and their groceries must have taken a while to work out. He announces the Shop Smart trip on the local cruiser's net prior to the day of leaving. Cruisers who want to shop call Jesse on the VHF and arrange to be picked up at their various marinas.

At 9:30 in the morning Jesse arrived at TTSA with two vans (the number of vans depends on the number of cruisers), and dropped us off at Shop Smart. Going through the cashier's counter, we were asked for our membership card, as you would be at Sam's Club. The password was, "I'm with Jesse". The cashier noted something in a small notebook, took our money and pointed us to a place to borrow a marker to note our boat name on our bags. Other cruisers encouraged us to count our bags because they would be delivered by another van to the appropriate marina. Following lunch at the store, with shopping carts parked around us, a driver asked for the cruisers tickets for checking at the exit. After our tickets returned, we mounted the taxi for the trip back to the marina where we waited in the shade at the pavilion until the packages were delivered. Cruisers lined up to carry the bags to tables where they were arranged by boat name. Jesse, not of the West, had done it again.

We boarded our dinghy last night and motored through lumpy seas to join other cruisers at the marina for a showing of "Shipping News" on TV. Because we were barely on time for the movie, the white plastic lawn chairs were all taken under the open pavilion so we raided the adjoining bar for chairs. The volume on the T.V. couldn't compete with the music and laughter from the bar so we moved our chairs toward front, ocean side. Two cruisers did their best with the sound, and the movie commenced with a notice running continually across the bottom of the screen that this movie was for demo only and could not be copied or sold. As the movie progressed, and I was caught up in the plot, I soon paid less attention to the warning, the music and laughter in the bar, and the racket of a child's toy on rough concrete. At times the sounds of the night broke through my concentration, but foremost I was aware of the sound of ocean waves racing to shore, reminding me once again that we are living the life others dream of.

Stay cool and in touch.

Shirley

Web Posted July 21st, 2002

The conventional wisdom here is that one must keep after contractors and watch them closely in order to get work done and done in a quality fashion. Those who leave their boats, and a long work order with contractors, and then fly home are frequently very disappointed on return. My experience is that folks don't seem to do what they said they were going to do, when they said they would do it. Clocks, and calendars, run on Island Time… sometimes also known as CEST (Caribbean Energy Saving Time). I have two small jobs… to replace some leaky teak and to sew anti-chafe on my mainsail.

I have managed to get them to come to the anchored boat with me providing the dinghy taxi services. They, of course, want me tied up along side in the marina. This is to avoid the possibly five minutes of time lost in their busy schedule. Remember they are on CEST. I explained… I am anchored and the hook is securely down, it would take me close to an hour to pull and clean the chain of its malodorous growth and mud, then I would have to single handedly maneuver into the marina, position along the pier and tie myself off (a great opportunity to screw up and tear something asunder), wait until they were done and then maneuver back out to re-anchor, hoping the anchor would securely set yet again. It's a difficult decision, but I think I'd still rather have them come to me.

The sail folks were going to come and going to come, each time they agreed to call me on the radio if they couldn't, and each time nothing happened. Finally, the man who was supposed to arrive at 1400 did arrive at 1620 to visually view my sail deployed so he could know where to put the anti-chafe patches to protect it from the shrouds. We then took the sail down, pulled out the battens, and he packed it off to the loft for repair. I said my sad goodbyes to the sail, picture a single tear creeping down a sun wrinkled cheek, not knowing when I might ever see yon sail again.

Yesterday morning, promptly at 1000, after previously being told by email to expect him next Monday, but then being told by VHF radio to expect him at 1000, the woodworker, a gentleman by the name of Sterling, actually arrived. He quickly built a template of the deck teak to be replaced, took a sample of the teak so he could duplicate it, and away he went to build the pad for installation on the following day. Wow! Pretty fast really… if it had happened, but of course it didn't. I was standing by as directed at 1000 on the dock, near the cable TV at the dockside bar. The only thing I saw moving was the Dow Jones Industrial Average… heading down, down, down. By 1100 I had returned to my boat. By 1130 I got a call on the radio. Sterling will now be expected on Monday… again at 1000. Right… an appointment it is… but definitely done in pencil.

I must be bored. After taking off hardware so they can get to the teak I answered another cruiser's radio call for help with his computer. Wouldn't boot after he had installed some new software. Of course he had a bootleg copy of Windows 98 operating system, in Flemish, which he had to translate for me as we worked. We finally played around with a crash disk and got in his hard drive and deleted some troubling files, including the new software he had installed that caused the crash, made some room on a crowded drive, then had to reinstall Windows 98. Turned into a 4.5 hour exercise. I'm remembering my drill instructor warned me against volunteering, but even he thought I was a slow learner.

So back to the boat, rummaging among the bookshelves for that as yet unread volume, and even considering reading a mystery before I found Wilbur Smith and his view of ancient Egypt… that will keep me on the edge of the old settee for some days. Here comes the weekend and (shudder visible but groan suppressed) the loud, THE LOUD, hard rock band from the bayside pavilion.

What an interesting country, this Trinidad, a product of importations of agricultural workers from several different eras. First the Europeans who battled each other for possession from the original South American natives, then African slaves, then large numbers of Indians, then Orientals, apparently largely Chinese. Each of these groups has blended over the years and the product is a handsome people, generally open and friendly and where all ethnic groups seem relatively well represented in government and business. One gets the feeling that the Indians are more numerous… not only from the original levies of workers imported but also from their subsequent efforts to bring over members of extended family. The country seems quite tolerant of different groups, different religions, and even of us nomadic sailors. English is the official language but it is clearly a West Indies English and one has to work to sort out the accents and dialects of the different cultural groups which are obvious. I've been struck by the efforts of the newscasters on local television to enunciate in an exaggerated fashion, hence minimizing dialect and accents.

There is a Trinidad Coast Guard Station on the southern side of this bay, with several boats tied up but apparently only one patrol boat which regularly operates, passing within 20'-30' of AT EASE at anchor. This boat, probably a 60 footer, makes about six round trips daily around the point into Chaguaramas with a deck load of young men, mostly in mufti. Shirley came close to figuring it out… they must be relaying shifts of sailors back and forth to the main harbor/ I later learned they ferry workers out to the offshore oil platforms near the harbor. The Coast Guard has found a way to make a few bucks by operating their ferry service.

Other typical water sounds abound. Cruiser dinghies motoring in and out of the marina off of which we are anchored and the sounds of the boat and rigging and even some hammering and banging from a somewhat distant boatyard around the bay. Just inland from this bay, the land climbs steeply into heavily forested hills rising several hundred feet up. In this jungled area, howler monkeys rule. One can't hear them from the boat, or when near the heavily traveled highway just ashore, but a short walk inland, up a forest road, usually is sufficient. There is a Trinidadian military base inland from here and yesterday I awoke to distant sounds of small arms from a firing range.

And now the weekend is upon us again, along with those weekend only sounds… that penetrating whine of those damn jet skis suddenly arises, always interspersed with the full-throated rumble of idling or roaring ego boats, the ones with the big, exposed chrome plated engine blocks and intentionally inadequate mufflers, 40' long with two seats and bows as pointed as the heads of the drivers. That's not the worst.

To the west, the very back of this bay, there is some sort of bar/restaurant open only on weekends which starts the live music about five on Friday, takes a break Saturday morning from 0430 to about noon, then fires up again until 0200-0300 or so (finally fell asleep) Sunday, then fires up again on Sunday afternoon and night as well. Picture amperage that could cause California brownouts and speakers whose atmospheric pressure disturbances are felt in the ship's hull. Trinidadians, of course, as cruisers, all real cruisers, go to sleep pretty soon after the sun sets.

Saylor and I survived the weekend, worn but fit… but I do understand now why the Trinidadian Custom's insists that all cruisers surrender firearms while in local waters.

Woke up today to a faint howling in the rigging and a return of the familiar trade winds… blowing 8-12 kts out of the east but a bit gusty rather than that reliable, ever present force we have come to love. The Trades are not as consistent a force here in Trinidad. I suppose that's why hurricanes don't wander down here either. Yet, we do miss these marvelous winds that do so much to make life pleasant, even in the tropics.

The winds ventilate the boat, drying and freshening, fighting the humidity and helping to fight the moisture which collects on all things salty or exposed to salt. The winds dry and cool the skin so that even in this 85'ish degree heat, one feels cool, or at least cooler. The winds drive away the insects, both the mosquitoes and the even more pesky gnats which are somewhat bigger than the "no see ums" of the Gulf Coast but whose bite is reminiscent nevertheless.

Finally, the Trades drive that big fan on the stern, that marvelous wind generator now back in place, and I have the simple, yet immense joy of seeing the amp meter flashing bigger numbers as energy is produced… as electricity flows. Of course solar energy is nice as well, but for the really big numbers on that amp meter, therefore the really big joy, we need wind. With electricity, we have all those tools and toys that make day to day life so much more pleasant… fans, television, movies, computers, water makers, radios and email to name a few. Without, or with minimal electricity, we manage quite well doing more reading and visiting and napping and swimming and such. Now that I think about it, all that electricity may be a distraction from what we came here looking for, but I do love the distractions too, and would feel much more out of touch with those we care about if we didn't have email especially.

We track our friends on other boats using long distance radio and email, keeping in touch as they wander different ports and islands on different schedules. We share experiences and information and frequently make decisions to go somewhere, or skip somewhere, based on that information. We arrange meetings and then are able to look forward to those rendezvous and to friendships revisited. We are able to stay in touch with our friends and family from "home" using email, to hopefully share some of our experiences and to eagerly, hungrily, devour bits and pieces of news and views from those who we miss… and who we wish were with us.

I guess we want both the electricity and the simplicity. Greedy, us Americans… or at least those Americans finding a home in AT EASE.

Shirley's in Arkansas. What a change that makes in the feel of the boat and through the course of the day. We are confined aboard in such close quarters and we do together so many of the things we do off the boat… it all feels odd without her.

My sprained ankle is recovering. It is still tender and throbs if I am on my feet for long, and seems to do better with a bandage if I have to move about much. However, I can get about as needed. I am trying to avoid unnecessary time on the foot, trying to hurry recovery time, so have not really been doing much ashore, neither shopping nor exploring.

I did walk in to the KISS manufacturing plant here, really just a store front sort of building, and took them my wind generator for repair. They jumped right on it and two days later had checked it all out, gave me a new propeller hub and new blades, and thanked me for choosing a KISS. Doug, the developer/manufacturer/owner, is every bit as gracious and helpful as his reputation proclaims, and clearly went out of his way to make me a satisfied owner. It's really nice to get such service and support for an item as important to us cruisers. I could have used some help in reinstalling the unit. It is weighty and was awkward to stand perched on the stern rail, one leg hooked around the generator mast to hang on, while carefully running wire and threading the housing on its base, holding everything over my head, and all the while avoiding falling in the water. Now if we can just get some wind…

There are so many marine services here that it seems wasteful to just sit and do nothing while Shirley is gone. I talked to some carpentry folks about replacing/rebedding some teak and recaulking some of my cabin top teak, and talked to a sail loft about putting some anti-chafe patches on my main where the sail batten pockets and the sail rub against the shrouds when sailing downwind. That all seems worthwhile and is easy enough done. Not sure yet how much each will cost but the fact they can get on it as quickly as they can suggests they aren't very busy.

I haven't met many of the other cruisers… they seem to stay pretty much to themselves. Those in the marinas, or on the hard, seem to be involved with one another and I haven't really found a cruiser's hangout that I like myself, or that doesn't involve some walking on my part. The van/taxis here are certainly reasonable, but I just prefer walking as a rule, both for the exercise and out of orneriness, I suppose. I did go ashore for Friday's Happy Hour at the local Tikki Bar. There I ran into Doug (of KISS generator fame) and an American expat who operates several long line fishing supply stores here in the islands. It was interesting to hear their accounts of living and working here in the islands.

The cruisers here have their own morning VHF radio net which includes folks identifying items they want to sell. Now selling is not kosher given Custom regulations and local law, so there is always the caveat that only "barter" is permitted and that only between foreign flagged vessels. I offered our Dahon folding bike over this radio net, indicating that I would trade for three horses, two women… one if a hard worker…, and a future draft pick". No takers so far but when folks ask me what sort of response I have received, I tell them I had one but thought the horses were pretty feeble and turned them down.

The bike is an instrument of torture. Storing the damned thing, or moving it around in the boat, is a pain with it's bumps and corners and extensions and such that hang on everything else. Getting it out into the dinghy is awkward. Riding it is agony! I've ridden bikes various times in my life and for extended periods, once in the last few years. I like bikes… or at least used to. However, when one doesn't ride often the necessary muscles are simply not up to the periodic demand and they complain so exuberantly. Between the burning pain of temporarily over-extended muscle tissue and the rubbery, tremulous legs so evident when I get off the monster, I wonder if walking, even crawling, wouldn't be preferable. For cruisers, I think bikes must be like exercise machines… lots of used one's available for a song. I may just abandon this monster. Not quite sure how I'm going to stable and feed those horses but they have to be easier to manage and live with than this bike.

The St Georges Yacht Club had a four day Regatta from July 4-8 and we were enlisted as crew aboard Footloose, a 45' Morgan crewed by Cap'n Ron and Joanne. Actually there were four couples aboard so we had plenty of deck hands and rail meat. The four races were all offshore off Grand Anise, a crescent beach with some rocky, volcanic protrusions stretching about 10 NM along Grenada's SW coast. We were exposed to both typical trades (15-20 kts) and daily squalls with rain and varying amounts of wind. Interesting racing, and an opportunity to see different approaches to sail management among the various cruisers aboard and participating in the race. We managed to win our division in spite of a collision around a contested buoy (glad it wasn't our boat) and a violent squall which struck just a few miles from the finish on the last day. This squall came roaring offshore with winds sustaining in the 35-45 kt range and reaching 50 kts during one exciting period, the whole thing lasting about 45 minutes, or maybe it was two hours. Not quite a knock down but we did have the lower rail and deck underwater until we could get some sail off. We managed to avoid serious injuries but "boat bites" abounded (abrasions and bruising), and one sprained ankle, blossomed among the dauntless crew.

We rushed back to Prickly Bay both to assure ourselves that AT EASE had not left without us and to prepare to depart for Trinidad. It is an 85 NM jaunt, about 185 degrees magnetic, to Chaguaramas from Prickly Bay. To arrive during business hours, hence avoid overtime fees at Trinidad Customs, we departed about 1900 and motor sailed overnight, arriving about 1000 to tie up at the Customs dock and go through the bureaucratic shuffle of clearing in.

It really was a pleasant crossing. Recent weather has been quite squally with higher winds and seas but we happened upon a window of very comfortable weather. Winds were 10-15 kts mostly, from the east, and seas were 2'-4' up to 3'-5', about as good as it gets. We motor sailed with main and staysail, not because of the weather, but because we wanted to make a tank of water with our water maker and needed the electrical power. We picked up a few ships on radar, nothing approaching closely, and saw a brilliantly lit natural gas platform which loomed up like a small city with all its lights and structure.

The approach into Trinidad is striking. The mountainous, heavily forested terrain rises sharply from the sea and rounding the eastern end of the islands puts one into relatively narrow passes inside of small, rocky islands… these passes are called the Mouth of the Dragon because of the strong diagonal currents and conflicted wave action between ocean swell and tidal current. We could see the greasy slick on the surface of the water from the strong current and could feel AT EASE squirm and shimmy as she powered through.

Rounding back east into Chaguaramas, we motored into a huge, deep bay, largely protected by steeply pitched but small outlying islands. The harbor is commercial and busy. This was a large US antisubmarine base during WW II, about 30,000 based here, and included ship facilities as well as seaplane ramps and airfields. Some of that structure has been used since, but there is a good deal of new construction also. Large cable laying ships, general cargo ships and tankers abound, some commercial fishermen, and a veritable forest of masts from all the sail boats both at anchor and ashore for work or storage. Over the past 10-15 years this area has become a major cruising yacht terminus, as many as a thousand boats during the peak of the season, and has the richest cluster of marine services, boatyards, and suppliers probably in the entire Caribbean. Prices, once outrageously cheap, have been rising steadily and now may be more like Miami for many services, but the availability is enticing, especially for such hard to get staples as teak. We'll get our pesky wind generator, built here, repaired and will get some leaky teak on our cabin top replaced. Other than that, AT EASE is in pretty good condition.

We're eager to get ashore and explore. Thus far we have only been ashore to take care of various business issues. There are van/taxis, here called maxi-cabs, which charge $2 TT ($6 TT to a dollar) to ride to the various services and malls. We're only a mile or so from most of the marine services but the humidity here is awesome and not conducive to walking. June through August is the rainy season here. Typically, by 1000 daily, rain clouds build over the island and dump anywhere from misty rain to tropical downpours. We've dug out our umbrella but in fact the rain is a bit refreshing given the heat. However, immediately after the rain the humidity is so great that one is almost instantly soaked with perspiration in place of the cooling rain. Not much choice, all in all. One tends to stay wet.

First impressions of Trinidad… the land is mountainous and lushly green. The people are attractive and seem overall friendly, and speak that British accented West Indies English, with "No Problem" attitude evident. The restaurants are inexpensive and attractive with interesting décor, open to the outside with large louvered panels for outside walls, tables with sparkling white linen and with service that is much more European than up-island typical. Specialty shops abound in clusters, much like small malls, and one can pretty well get whatever is wanted and at prices ranging from inexpensive to about what one would pay in the US. Groceries are a bit more expensive and the range is more limited… some US brands but lots of South American and British labels also. Beef is expensive and what passes for steak here is pretty unappealing, at least in the stores.

Shirley flies home tomorrow so I will do some local exploring myself and visit with other cruisers. Guess I'll just have to sit around and talk about boats and sailing. Oh well!

Snapshots…

Lunch of "Fish n' Chips" sitting on a second-story veranda of the old Officer's Quarters, built in the early 1800's, overlooking Nelson's Dockyard in English Harbor, Antigua. Trade winds blowing so strong the placemats and napkins had to be anchored with silverware and drinks to hold them in place. A picture showing Eric Hiscock's boat anchored just off here in the 1950's.

A Grenada rum distillery, built in 1785 when the US itself was barely viable, with a waterwheel still powering the cane grinders and with individuals still manually stoking the boilers with dried, crushed, cane… other's ladling the scum off the top of vats of cane syrup and manually cranking pumps that brought the distilled rum up out of stone vats to put in bottles, each 150 proof clear rum. In one window, a one piece, carved wooden shovel (handle and blade) lay as a relic but one could see people doing obviously what people had done 200 years before while energizing this production.

Misty peaks of steep-sided mountains, shrouded by almost perpetual rains, sharply plummeting to the volcanic, crater lake below, fringed by palm and bamboo, backed by lush green hardwoods and all the verdant mass of tropical rainforest. On a wooden rail fence, a ripe banana, left as an offering to the monkeys who playfully exploit humans come to marvel at the Grenada highland vistas.

A plantation house, built in the 1800's, about 1200' above the northern coast of Grenada, with vista to the north of the Grenadines over rough and tumble Conception Beach, named by Columbus, and to the northwest the sharp cleft where the last of the Island's Caribes leapt to their deaths rather than accept capture and enslavement by Europeans.

Lunch, again! An Indian Roti (sandwich, pastry and