Log 45A - Grenada to Antigua

Written at: Cabeza de Torro, Dominican Republic

Jan. 11, 2008

Hi Folks,

All is well with us and we are off to Santo Domingo later today, with maybe a stop on the south coast of the DR on the way. I still have a month's of travels to complete which I will send in my next couple of logs, when I can. Here at anchor we are able to hook in to a local resort's WiFi, and send this.

Aubrey.

 

On December 5, after motoring from Hog Island over to anchor in the Lagoon at St. George’s, attending a charity book exchange at Island Water World, and fruitlessly trying to find a source to refill a propane tank, we departed for Tyrrel Bay at 1115.

We have a North American propane tank, and three European camping Gaz bottles that can also be refilled with propane at certain depots. Since our North American one was empty, we changed the regulators and re-installed a European one. The North American tank has to be kept on deck or in our ventilated propane locker in the cockpit. The European bottles, because they have recessed fittings that cannot leak or be damaged can be stowed below deck or in any cockpit locker.

Motoring and motor sailing through light winds we arrived after 32 miles, to anchor in Tyrrel Bay on Carriacou (part of Grenada). I caught a small (22 inch) Little Tunny which we prepared for supper. Shortly after anchoring, John (the name he presently uses or accepts; it varies periodically) came by to see if we wanted any mangrove oysters. We agreed for two dozen, if he shucks them. No problem! When he returned with the oysters and was shucking them beside Veleda, he was talking to Judy who was cleaning our Little Tunny, while enjoying a rum punch we provided. He asked if she was doing anything with the head. She was filleting the fish and was happy to give him the head and spine for whatever soup he could make of it. John was very pleased with this, and shucked a dozen or more extra oysters on our platter. Thanks John! We had an enjoyable seafood meal of raw mangrove oysters on the half shell seasoned with hot sauce, lemon and vodka and Little Tunny fillets sauteed in butter, Mmmm!

Next day we wandered over to the boat yard and signed up for a couple of days of WiFi for a small donation, did a bit of grocery shopping along the beach road, then went over to visit Windborne Three, with Rick and Carolyn, a retired couple whom Judy taught at Power Squadron in Toronto many years ago. Carolyn is a very sociable person who has spent considerable time in Tyrrel Bay over the years and knows many of the locals. She is a fund of local knowledge. We arranged with them for that evening to walk over to L”Esterre on the next bay over for a chicken and chips meal at a shoreside restaurant before going to a local elementary school Christmas concert. Beforehand we hired a taxi for a couple of hours in the afternoon to tour the island, as although we have anchored in Tyrrel Bay many times, we had not explored the island beyond the shores of the bay and over to Hillsborough, the main town. It is a beautiful island. We covered both ends of the island, and through the central hills. There were some lovely panoramas from the various summits.

We were impressed by the number of large houses, and asked if they were all for expats from Britain, Germany, Canada and the U.S. No, there were a couple of expat areas, but most of what we saw were returning Grenadians who lived and worked abroad and returned to Carriacou in retirement. They would build big houses, as they were given FREE land by the government and the large houses were variously for prestige purposes, or extended families that remained in Grenada, or to convert into apartments for locals or tourists to help pay for the building. One of the other values that locals have in regards to homes is to invest a proportion of the costs into attractive tropical plants. Even the smallest of houses would have colourful foliage around the house and property. We noted considerable use of “gingerbread” trim on roofs and verandahs. It is a most pleasant island.

The Christmas concert was something else! No one seemed to know the exact time it was supposed to start. Island time? Or what cruisers and expats refer to as GMT -- Grenada Maybe Time? We arrived about 7:00pm to the raucous noise of a loud adult nightclub-type D.J. playing full volume, pulsating Caribbean rock, reggae and soca music, with a couple of dozen 8 to 12 year old kids rampaging around the large central classroom/auditorium, some attempting undulating dance steps. We stayed outside on the concrete fenced-in play area to try to save our eardrums. There were no Christmas decorations, or Christmas tree, only a couple of red and white rosettes that looked like leftovers from Remembrance Day above the small stage. As the hall filled with more kids and then some parents, more chairs were brought in. Things finally started about 8:15.

Different grade levels did various skits, some songs and some traditional anecdotes, the words of which we had difficulty understanding. There was one, maybe two acts which were related to Christmas, and only one Christmas carol. The auditorium was crowded, noisy, but active with people coming and going, getting refreshments, including beer, sold at the back of the hall and outside. However the audience was enthusiastic, enjoying their children’s or their classmates’ efforts on stage. Frankly, it was painful to sit though, and we left at an intermission at 9:30 for a quiet walk back to Tyrrel Bay along the dark unlit shore roads.

After some debate about the weather, we left Tyrrel Bay Dec. 8 about 1400, having cleared out at Hillsborough that morning, and hoisting our mainsail before weighing anchor for an indeterminate passage up the island chain towards Antigua. We were unsure of how far we would go, as the total distance to English Harbour on Antigua is 295 nautical miles. We could do it in one, three-day direct passage, or we could break it up into shorter legs, anchoring off at other islands if we wished. Our course was mostly north, into force 3 to 4 NE winds, causing us to motor sail most of the way.

We decided to head diagonally up towards Martinique in case we chose to anchor on that enjoyable French island. This course took us well off the intervening islands of Mayreau, Bequia, St. Vincent and St. Lucia. At sunset, northwest of Mayreau, we saw another green flash as the upper orb of the molten red sun dipped below the clear, crisp, well defined horizon. We have seen a few green flashes here in the Caribbean. They are not dramatic rays flashing above the setting sun, but are iridescent green glows illuminating the upper rim of the sun for a few seconds, as it sinks below the horizon.

Watching sunsets and sunrises are most pleasant and interesting experiences, especially at sea where there is a full view of the horizon. Each sunrise and sunset has its own character of visual and emotional dimensions. Sunsets seem to be more muted with lingering crimson reds creating pleasant afterglows as if to say another day has ended, sometimes reflecting hazy rays between any clouds, or dramatically colouring the undersides of the clouds with radiant vermillion washes. At other times, in stormy weather, the sunset can be a threatening monochromatic disappearance of the light casting Veleda into unseen tossing seas, with each dark cloud overhead an uncertain portent of stormy weather.

In daylight the depth of the clouds can be seen, with no problems associated with light fluffy ones, which at night look as black as any threatening storm cloud. In daytime one can see the waves, estimate their heights, their point of overtaking the vessel and anticipate the effect on the boat. At night, especially in heavy conditions, the waves are hidden in the blackness of the seas, plunging unsuspectedly onto the boat, sometimes with a roaring frothy white breaking crest, at other times with an unexpected slap against the hull, cascading water over the decks and cockpit. Lights on the horizon, land or ships, if they can be seen, are blotted out by a black welling up of the sea as if some monster were gliding just beneath the surface.

Other times at night, in calmer conditions, the sea is a fantastic ink-black undulating canvas scattered by occasional whitecaps or surges from the boat’s wake, with sparkles of phosphorescence spreading out in vee-shaped ripples or creating a dusty trail the stern, like Tinkerbelle’s wand as the water rushes by the propeller and rudder. Sometimes the stars are so vivid they reflect off the water. The moon rising in the east pales out some of the stars and the phosphorescence, and paints the restless surface with Diana’s cool yellow and white washes on the eternally moving black waters. The moon going behind clouds at night tends to make them look more threatening, giving a sense of relief when it peeks out again, indicating a clear sky. The stars on a clear night before moonrise are fantastically vivid and brilliant.

Arcturus always intrigues me with its fluctuating diamond white, ruby red and sapphire blue pulsating pinpoint light. I sometimes think it is a distant aircraft with its navigation strobe lights before realizing it is just the silent cool fluctuating light from that distant star. The Southern Cross is also quite visible near the horizon at these latitudes while the North Star, Polaris, is often lost in the haze of the horizon, stationary at 12 degrees elevation. We both have over 2500 hours of night passaging. At night, Veleda provides a safe secure cocoon from which to observe and encounter the nautical universe through which we are passing, whether it be the high, tranquil, settled night passage or the perilous, heavy, storm tossed challenging seas.

Dawn is associated with a new day, hope, anticipation, and relief from the long night watches. Sunrises do not seem as dramatic as sunsets, as they are often clearer, without the haze of the day to create the warm picturesque glows of the evenings. “Red sky at night - sailors’ delight. Red sky in the morning - sailors take warning.” This nautical adage has a kernel of truth as it is associated with the atmospheric haze and barometric pressures associated with weather patterns over the coming 24 to 48 hours. At dawn, the horizon, sky, water, clouds, are all revealed in a stark clarity ready for a fresh start on the day. The waters look a pewter, leaden grey until the sun gets higher to reveal the true depths of colours. As the rising sun warms the day, we are both up, and resume our daily routine, cleaning up after the night watches, getting some breakfast, putting out fishing lines (I have been notoriously unsuccessful, having caught only two fish in the past six months.), checking our progress on the GPS or computer chart system, and just relaxing, reading novels, checking cruising and tourist literature or doing small shipboard tasks such as polishing brass, rope work, or any short term maintenance that can be done in the cockpit or on deck.

Getting back to our passage, as we had light NE winds with moderate seas, we were able to comfortably sail and motor sail on our northerly course and so decided to keep going, rather than seek a sheltered anchorage of one of the islands. We bypassed, well off, St. Vincent, St. Lucia, and Martinique, as well as all of Dominica and Les Saintes, continuing up the west coast of Guadeloupe to anchor at 1720 after a 52 hour, 250 nautical mile passage, at Des Haies on the northwest tip (16 18.42N, 061 47.81W). We had a few minor problems en route, such as our bilge pump accidentally coming on, and air in the fuel line, causing us to have to bleed the line to get the engine started again. We have had that problem periodically, and have not been able to identify the source of the air leak. We have changed the lines, and even changed the second of three in-line fuel filters, but still the problem occurs occasionally, especially if we have heavy seas. We check the first filter frequently for air in it, in rough seas or after a heavy passage, as we don’t want the engine conking out on us as we enter or leave an anchorage.

We like Des Haies as it is a reasonably sheltered anchorage only a day’s sail (40 nautical miles) from Antigua. We can never find the Douane (Customs) office open, but no one seems to mind for a short overnight or few days stay. The French seem to be casual about this. We also like Des Haies as it has a good dinghy dock right in the centre of town, giving easy access to restaurants, grocery stores (a good Spar Store), a post office, bus service, and Judy’s favourite, a couple of boulangeries that she enjoys patronizing for croissants first thing in the morning. Mmmm!

After our morning croissants next day (Dec. 11) we weighed anchor at 0818, being careful to avoid a day charter catamaran that we swung towards with the fluky winds. In Des Haies one cannot identify what the weather is doing in the channel between Guadeloupe and Antigua, until a few miles around the cape and out into the channel, and local forecasts are notoriously unreliable. So off we went, only to be hit by a couple of force 8 squalls. We saw the dark clouds gathering to the east, and considered whether to take in a couple of reefs. We did so immediately, as the time to take in a reef is the first time you think about it; waiting may put you in peril trying to tie in a reef after the storm has hit.

We double reefed the main and the genoa before the squall hit, and deluged us with rain and 30 plus knots of wind. However, the wind was easterly, allowing us a fast sail close hauled through three metre (10 foot) seas. We were able to track some of the storm cells on our new radar, but we couldn’t or rather didn’t want to alter our course to avoid them, taking us away from our destination of English Harbour on Antigua. We went through two or three storm cells with gale force winds, letting out and then re-reefing the genoa a few times between them. We kept the main double reefed all the way, lowering both sails before entering English Harbour and proceeding up into Ordnance Bay (17 00.70N, 061 45.86W), a very sheltered anchorage well inside the harbour after a 7 ½ hour, 42 mile passage. Judy wanted quiet, and no motion after that heavy but (for me) exhilarating passage, which Ordnance Bay provides. We were now in our Christmas anchorage, looking forward to having a tot with our friends in the Royal Naval Tot Club of Antigua and Barbuda.

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