|
|
Caribbean Travel RoundupNewsletter - Paul Graveline, Editor |
| CTR Homepage | Island Index | Search |
Copyright 2001 by Mike Haynes All Rights Reserved In late April/early May, 2001, six of us embarked on a bareboat charter in the Grenadine Islands. We had sailed the British Virgin Islands several times, and decided on a change of scenery and more challenging sailing conditions. We chartered a 46-foot monohull from The Moorings in St. Lucia, to be dropped of at their base in Grenada 10 days later - a trip of about 120 miles. We flew American to St. Lucia, which involved a long layover in San Juan, because the first American Eagle flight to St. Lucia doesn't leave San Juan until 5:30 p.m. That put us into St. Lucia at 7:40, almost 12 hours after leaving home. All the flights were on time (a real surprise) and there were only two inconveniences: 1) Although we made our reservations almost a year in advance, none of us were sitting together, and 2) the "dinner" on American Eagle was amusing - sliced Turkey on a hot-dog bun. Reminded me of something I might have done in college. We wondered if some other flight had hotdogs on whole wheat! The worst part was after traveling all day with a long layover, we landed in St. Lucia after dark, missing out on the spectacular aerial views. The Moorings had made hotel arrangements, and provided free airport transfers. A porter quickly recognized our Moorings luggage tags and sped us through customs, bypassing a long line. He delivered us to the taxi dispatcher who also recognized us as Moorings charterers immediately, but almost sent us to the wrong hotel. Turns out he had received no information about us. After several phone calls, he put is in a free cab to the Rainbow Hotel. The Moorings base is in Marigot Bay, and I had expected to stay in their hotel there. I was surprised to find the Rainbow was not their hotel, and was in Rodney Bay, several miles in the opposite direction from the airport. This situation was both good and bad. We had planned to spend the first day ashore, maybe see some sights, and also get a handle on the operation at the Moorings base, as well as local advice for our upcoming sail. However, we got an opportunity to see Rodney Bay, which was quite nice, even though our subsequent charter start was more hectic. Rodney Bay has a beautiful crescent beach and a large marina, as well as a reasonably large town on the water. There are lots of restaurants and bars in the area. We didn't have a car, and didn't need one with so many businesses within walking distance. The first night, we dined at "The Buzz." It was a nice atmosphere with a good bar, good food, good service, and a large, varied menu. I tried an Indian dish, and the others mostly grazed on the large selection of appetizers. Entrees were in the low to mid $20s, US. The Rainbow is an adequate hotel. The grounds and exterior are attractive, and they have a great pool. The rooms are basic - no shampoo, two thin towels, no washcloths, no ice bucket, and a TV with poor reception. They have a small restaurant which served up a nice, inexpensive breakfast. The Rainbow is situated a short walk from the beach on one side, and a short walk from the Marina on the other. The price was reasonable - about $85/night. We were just into the off-season, so I expect the prices are much higher in winter. For the more luxury-minded, I'd recommend the Royal St. Lucian, which was nearby. It has fabulous grounds, a beautiful lobby, and is beachfront. I don't know the price, but I'm sure it wasn't cheap. We intended an island cab tour, but after the previous long travel day, we lazed around too late. The island is large, and a decent cab tour would have taken about 7 hours. So instead of sight-seeing we decided to drink. Our walk on the beach was interrupted by a sudden rainstorm. Fortunately, we were right in front of a beach bar/restaurant called Spinnakers. It's a beautiful spot, with a fabulous view of Rodney Bay. The blue water white sand bay is surrounded by large hills, which unfortunately were pretty brown that time of year. The Windwards were at the tail of an unusually long and intense dry season, and we saw mostly brown islands on the entire trip. But it was still a beautiful spot. We walked through the local neighborhood, which was mostly very nice private homes, and ended up at a tiny outdoor bar called the "Happy Day." It's owned by the big hotel next door, but is a low-key, freestanding shack by the canal entering the Marina. It offers a nice breeze, a beautiful view of the bay, 2-for-1 drinks, and a continuous stream of offbeat tourists, yachties, and locals - all friendly and interesting. If you like this kind of camaraderie, don't miss this place. It's my favorite memory of Rodney Bay. That night we had dinner at the Mortar and Pestle restaurant down on the Marina docks. This beautiful waterfront location has a great view and excellent food. We had lobster (last day of the season), fish, shrimp, and steak. All were excellent, and the prices were reasonable - less expensive than the Buzz. They also had a great steel drum band. Next morning, we got a late start because the Rainbow front desk forgot our wakeup call. Moorings picked us up at 9:00, and we got no breakfast. It was nearly an hour drive to Marigot Bay, and we stopped by a bank to convert some US$ to EC$ (Eastern Caribbean). We couldn't exchange the previous day because it was Sunday. I had read in the Caribbean Roundup that you shouldn't exchange to EC before you leave, because the local rates are much better, and that advice was accurate. The bank was a zoo, however, and we got to Marigot Bay about 10 minutes late for our 10:00 briefing. Alex, the base manager, said "no problem", and hustled us right on in. He gave an excellent briefing of our sailing area, and provided lots of local knowledge. He's a wonderful and very interesting guy, and it was a real pleasure to meet him. We checked out through customs in Marigot, and after a brief boat checkout, were ready to go. Customs was a real pain-in-the-butt bunch of red tape, but didn't take too long and the agents were friendly. I'd like to provide more information about Marigot Bay, but we were only there for a few hectic hours. Unlike the Rodney Bay area, it was quite green because it's situated near an inland valley. It was a lovely spot and I wish we could have spent more time there. Doolittle's is pr obably the most famous spot, and it looked really nice. Gorgeous restaurant and bar, right on the water. Maybe we'll visit it next time. We didn't sail out of Marigot Bay until about 2:00, because the Moorings was out of towels. The late start was unfortunate, as I'll mention below. The sail to the Pitons/Soufriere area was wonderful, and uneventful - 15 knot breeze on a broad reach, flat water, and a dolphin escort - about all you could ask for. Soufriere and the Pitons are probably the most-visited tourist area on St. Lucia. The Pitons are a striking pair of steep conical mountains about a half-mile apart at the base. There's a lovely anchorage between them, which is only practical if you pick up a mooring - the water is 900 feet deep (according to Alex). Unfortunately, the boat in front of us picked up the last mooring. Now you understand why I was miffed about the towels! We left the Pitons and motored over to nearby Soufriere, which is a small town on the water. It's famous for its nearby sulfur springs. Other sailors had warned us that it smelled like sewage. We noticed the odor immediately, but I think it may have been sulfur from the springs. At least, we gave them the benefit of the doubt, because we had no choice but to anchor there. Once anchored, we never noticed the odor again. We encountered our first boatboy on the way to Soufriere. He offered to lead us to the best anchoring spot. We were warned repeatedly about boatboys by guidebooks and other sailors, and expected the worst. Surprisingly, they were extremely helpful, friendly and knowledgeable. I learned to trust their advice and accept their help with anchoring and mooring. All they wanted was a small tip, and their advice was accurate. The vendor boatboys were also quite nice, and readily accepted "no thank you" when we weren't interested in their products. My advice is to be friendly and act like a guest in their islands - they will treat you most hospitably. Anchoring in Soufriere is a trip. The shore is so steep, you must drop your anchor off the side of an underwater cliff about 100 feet from shore, and tie a stern line to a tree. The procedure is so common, the locals wait by the trees to tie you up for a standard $10EC ($4 US) fee. Our anchoring was especially exciting. As we approached our anchorage, a shoreside rainshower greeted us with a beautiful rainbow over Soufriene, so close we could almost touch it. As I nervously anticipated the coming squall (which never materialized) our boatboy told us exactly where to drop the anchor and how much scope to use. Then, with my crew on the bow, I was both steering and handling the stern line. With the boat in neutral and presumably safely situated for the moment, I began paying out line to the boatboy. Suddenly, everyone was yelling, and I spun around with horror to see our boat heading for a T-bone collision with the huge, immaculate catamaran alongside. I yanked the boat into reverse about 10 feet short of a collision. Our neighbors were all on deck regarding us with amusement and probably no small amount of disgust. After our boatboy expertly tied us up, two of us dinghied over to our neighbors with two Carib beers (the excellent local brew) as a peace offering. They were gracious to a fault, and invited us aboard for drinks, reinforcing my opinion that sailors are universally wonderful folks. Unfortunately, we had a ton of stuff to do aboard and had to decline. Back at our boat, we were running the engine in neutral to charge the batteries and chill the fridge (have to do that twice a day). Boatboys started coming by and telling us we were in reverse and pulling on our anchor. One of our crew snorkeled and discovered the prop was indeed turning. After several attempts, I managed to shift into neutral. That explained why we nearly T-boned the big cat - when in neutral, our boat would sometimes decide to drive itself around. What a way to start a trip! But rather than delay our morning departure, we decided to wait until we got to Bequia to seek a repair. That night we dined ashore at the Hummingbird Restaurant. This place looks like a dump from the beach, but is remarkable inside. It is built of stone, with open-air seating, and is decorated with hand-carved totems - some very large ones supporting the roof over the bar.. They had a great happy hour (four rum punches for $4 US), and the food was wonderful. I'd recommend it for food, atmosphere, and service, with entrée prices around $10-$25 US. Had we found a mooring between the Pitons, we would have dined at nearby Dasheen, high in the hills above the bay. The locals back in Rodney Bay recommended this upscale restaurant for fine food and a spectacular view. Food in general on this entire trip was very good. I don't think we ever had a bad meal, and many were excellent. We ate mostly at mid- range priced places, with entrees in the $10-$20 US range for things like fresh fish, chicken, shrmip, etc. On advice from others, we stayed away from steaks and such, which would likely be frozen. Our only complaint was the menus were almost identical in every restaurant. There was some variety in the preparation or accompaniments, but in general, every place had the same selection - Appetizers: salad, Callaloo soup, gazpacho, pumpkin soup; Entrees: steak, lobster (unfortunately out of season after 4/31 - most of our trip), lambi (conch), shrimp, chicken, and sometimes pork ribs. Although this selection sounds broad, the preparation was similar nearly everywhere, with little variety. Anyone down there will tell you to always get the fish. It's local, fresh, and usually prepared in a unique way at each restaurant. It's almost always fish of the day. We had Tuna, Dorado (Mahi-Mahi), Flying Fish, Barracuda, and Red Snapper. Several of our crew were delighted to discover a taste for Callaloo, a local green, usually used in soup but often in other dishes as well. Another favorite was Christophene - a fruit which looks and tastes somewhat like a potato when cooked, but grows on a tree (we think) and looks a little like a squash. We met our neighbors from the Catamaran again at the Hummingbird. Very nice folks. They invited us again for drinks aboard their boat, but we were all just too tired from the long day and declined. Too bad - I would have loved a tour of that big Cat. Sleeping in Soufriere is a little tough. Roosters crowed all night, it was just rolly enough to be uncomfortable, and there was little breeze so it was pretty hot in the cabin. Next morning we got an early start for our 37-mile trip to St. Vincent. Ubald, the shoreside boatboy, brought us ice promptly at 7:30 am, as he had promised the night before when he helped us land and launch our dinghy in the surf. We had paid extra for a 1-way trip from St. Lucia to Grenada, because the wind "always" blows in that direction, and we'd have a great downwind sail all the way. It turns the 10 days we chose to sail were an exception to "always." The normal NE wind veered into the South, and we sailed upwind the entire trip. It wasn't a terrible trip, usually a close reach, sometimes a beat, and we never had to tack, but a broad reach would have been much easier. The trip to St. Vincent took six hours. Much of it was in 6-foot swells or more, with confused seas - no two waves traveling in the same direction. It was tough sailing but exhilarating. Only one of us avoided nausea (it wasn't me), and only one lost breakfast (not me either). But it was still a lot of fun. St. Vincent is a foreboding sight when approaching from the north. The volcano is shrouded in black clouds and mist, like some mysterious island in a horror movie. But down on shore it's beautiful and unspoiled. As soon as we rounded the northernmost point, the wind and water immediately settled, and the conditions were perfect. Our destination was Wallilabou Bay, which has a narrow entrance in an otherwise continuous shoreline. We probably would have missed it altogether except for the GPS, and a few inexplicable dots on the water. As we approached we realized the dots were boatboys - local hawkers drawing in business which might otherwise sail right by without noticing. One picked us out and began rowing his small boat beside us, offering a mooring. We accepted, and unbelievably, he rowed the small boat at the same speed we motored - about 5 knots. I was suspicious of a scam about helping with a mooring, but it turned out they had no pennants and were hard to pick up, plus they were so close together you needed to tie the stern to a tree. The other boatboys pitched in and helped, working very hard to get us secured. A bargain at $10EC ($4US). While I'm at it, a word about the currency: local currency is the Eastern Caribbean Dollar (EC Dollar). It has a fixed exchange rate of $2.67 to the US Dollar. Local banks and hotels will give you $2.60 or better. Typical street rate is $2.50, because it's easy to calculate. (Multiply $EC by 4, shift the decimal one place left, and you have $US. For example, $10EC = 4 x 10, drop the 0 = $4US) I couldn't find anyone stateside giving better than $2.43. Change your money when you get there. Or don't bother. Everyone accepts US anyway. But be sure you have lots of small bills. And it's a good idea to get some small change (at least $1, $5) in EC, for buying from the boatboys. Anyway, back to Wallilabou. As soon as our boat was tied up, I noticed there were boatboys with their wares lining both sides of the boat. They had jewelry, carvings, ice, guided shoreside tours, lobster, fish, you name it. We politely looked at everything, but only bought some ice. All were pleasant and friendly, whether we bought anything or not. Shortly after we arrived, we watched a German boat try to anchor and set a stern line without the help of boatboys. It took them about 45 minutes. They had crewmembers climbing the rocks ashore, then diving when they dropped their sternline. They anchored too far away and couldn't reach the sternline to shore, reanchored, and still couldn't reach, all with the boatboys patiently watching, encouraging, and advising for free from a few feet away. When the boat finally realized the sternline was too short, the boatboys loaned them an additional one. Maybe they finally got a tip - I'm not sure. But we were amazed at what some people will do to save four dollars! Wallilabou is a beautiful little anchorage. It's very protected, with a gorgeous view of the Caribbean between the huge rocks on either side of the bay's narrow mouth. We had to go ashore around 5:00 to clear customs. More carbon-paper triplicates to fill out in a hot room. Another slow, inconvenient experience, but again the officers were pleasant. I wish we'd had time to visit the local waterfall, or hire a car up to the volcano, but we'd had a long sail and didn't have much energy left. I'd like to visit Wallilabou again and see a little more of the area. Back at the boat, our neighbors were a couple from Dallas, Texas, with their toy Poodle, Rosie. The Escapade had been working down from St. Martin for over five months, and were bound for Grenada, same as us. Wonderful folks, and Skipper Mike had a great sense of humor to go with his Texas drawl. They were the only American sailors we met on the entire trip. We dined ashore at the Wallilabou Anchorage Restaurant. This place looks like a dump, but its laid-back charm grows on you after a few rum punches. It's locally-owned with local food. I think some of our crew found their meals a little sub-par, but the Tuna with Creole Sauce was my favorite entrée for the entire trip. Prices about $8 - $20 US. Sleeping in Wallilabou was again a little rolly, and very hot. Tying bow and stern doesn't let the boat swing to the wind, and we had light wind behind us, which doesn't get channeled down into the boat very well. Next morning we set out for Bequia (pronounced Beck' wee), the northernmost and largest of the Grenadine Islands. St. Vincent and the Grenadines are one country, so luckily we were finished with Customs for a while. Bequia was about 45 degrees off the wind, so the entire trip was a beat on one tack. The wind was 20+ knots, and we had to reef just to keep the boat under control. But the seas were about four feet and regular, so it was a fast and glorious sail. Two and a half hours later, we entered Admiralty Bay, an enormous, well-protected harbor, which easily held a freighter, a cruise ship, and hundreds of smaller vessels. Nestled in the corner is the town of Port Elizabeth. I love this place! The water is a gorgeous blue surrounded by white sand, the anchorage is vast and pleasant, the surrounding town is a delightful collection of local architectures in traditional pastel colors, and there are plentiful services and distractions for the yachtsman. We stayed two days. Almost anything you could want can be delivered to your boat. Daffodil Marine supplies water and fuel from a barge which comes right out and ties to your boat. They also have an excellent laundry service which picks up and delivers by dinghy - hand washed and line dried in the Carribean sun. Garbage? Out of rum? No problem mon' - call Daffodil on channel 69. I love this place! Against the charter company's advice, we rented a mooring from a dubious-looking character, and hoped for the best. It was a good move, because it was secure, and more conveniently located than any place we could have anchored. And I do mean secure, because the wind nearly blew the paint off the boat the entire time we were there. We had no complaints about ventilation in Bequia! Bequia is one of The Moorings' service locations, so we made a call to their local contractor about our transmission problem. "Mr. Fixman" arrived shortly to check it out. He was a colorful character, tall, barefoot, dressed all in Khaki, sun-burnt blonde hair, indeterminate age, and a Scandinavian accent. Since the problem was intermittent, it of course would not fail in his presence. So he patiently explained that I didn't understand the "feel" of the single-handled control, and carefully demonstrated for me. I explained this was my fourth charter in such a boat, and I knew perfectly well how to operate the controls, but to no avail. He also told us it was "normal" for the prop to turn when in neutral. Didn't sound right to us, but you can only argue so much with an expert. We thanked Mr. Fixman for nothing, and he dinghied away. After evening cocktails and a fabulous sunset, we dinghied in to the Gingerbread Restaurant for another great meal. The Gingerbread has a lovely balcony with a view of the town and bay. The next day, we explored the town, which is situated entirely on the water. There is nothing more than one block from the shore. There are ample eateries, watering holes, and shopping. They have a couple of supermarkets, and even a drugstore. All of these became rare as we ventured farther down the Grenadines. Be sure to visit the bookstore, which has a fascinating collection of local history, and geography, as well as boating books in general. Also notice the beautiful handmade local boats plying the harbor. Boatbuilding is a Bequia tradition. We considered an island tour, but all the cabs were pickup trucks with benches in the back. After the previous days of hard sailing, we just weren't ready to bounce down dusty roads on a hard bench, and declined. My retirement plan is to move to Bequia and start a cab service in an air-conditioned van. The market is there. We lunched at Mac's Pizza - a small place high on a hill, with a commanding view of the bay. Honestly, it was the best pizza I've ever had. I tried hard to be objective and ignore the atmosphere, and I still think it was the best. Don't miss it! Dinner was a tough decision. There are just too many good restaurants here. We'd had drinks at the Frangipani, so decided to dine at the Plantation Hotel's Green Flash Bar. At this point great meals at a waterside table with a fabulous view were becoming commonplace, so the best part was the homemade coconut ice cream. The next morning we left with a choice of destinations. We headed for Mayreau (May' roo), with a backup plan to stop in Canouan (about half way) if the weather was rough. The day was gorgeous, with light seas and a beam reach, so we slipped into Mayreau's Saltwhistle Bay about four hours later. The sail was uneventful until our Skipper (moi) got a little confused about our location as we passed Catholic Island. My unforgiving crew will never let me forget it. Saltwhistle Bay is the most beautiful anchorage in the Windward Islands, but don't tell anyone because it's very small and we don't want it to get overcrowded. It is well-protected, with a small white sand crescent beach lined with Palm Trees on one side, and steep rocky cliffs on the other two.. Anchoring is good, but you have to get in early to find a spot. We didn't get a good anchor set the first time, and on our second try were assisted by a boatboy named "Yellow Man." We didn't really need the help, but didn't refuse, and he didn't bug us for a tip. We made a deal for him to bring us ice from Union Island the next morning (none is available locally). This time our transmission offered a new surprise - I pulled it into reverse to slow the boat and instead it surged forward! Thanks again, Mr. Fixman! There is nothing here but a resort called Saltwhistle Bay Club. It is beautifully situated on a narrow spit of land covered with palm trees. If you walk across this little peninsula (about 100 yards), you come to the ocean on the other side. This walk is truly spectacular under a full moon, beneath the shadow of the palms. We swam ashore for drinks in the afternoon and returned for dinner that evening. The food was excellent, with an unbeatable atmosphere . I'd like to go back there and stay in the resort some time. It is a collection of "huts," all made of stone with thatched roofs, but with full amenities. The restaurant serves outdoors at round stone tables, each surrounded by a low stone wall with built-in bench, and a thatched roof. Dinner entrees were $15-$20 US. Dining is also available in nearby Saline bay. A van will pick you up and shuttle you over to Dennis' Restaurant. We weren't there long enough to try it out, but the menu looked good. You can also sail over to Saline Bay - we didn't stop there, but it looked nice from the water. The next morning we headed out early for the Tobago Keys - the most famous spot in the Grenadines. It took about an hour to motor over from Saltwhistle Bay - no point in raising a sail. This collection of tiny uninhabited islands is protected by an enormous reef on two sides. The islands are a mile or two apart, and you can anchor almost anywhere in depths ranging from 6 - 30 feet. It feels eerie to be anchored in a spot that appears completely exposed, but the reef about 1/4 mile away makes it feel like a lake. The result is an expansive panorama of blue water stretching to the horizon. You just don't get a view like this in a protected anchorage. We quickly found an anchorage, and did a little exploring. We had been told we'd find it hard to leave the Tobago Keys, and to plan at least two days there. The harbor was full of boats from every country, most of them private-owned. These were big, beautiful, well-kept boats - the kind you dream about. Our little charter boat was almost embarrassing in this kind of company. Even though it is uninhabited, you can stay in the Tobago Keys indefinitely on a boat. The boatboys will bring you anything you need. They always offer staples like ice and bread, as well as fresh fish, lobster and conch, cleaned and/or cooked to order if you like. If there's anything else you need, you can place an order and they'll bring it out the next morning. Of course there's the usual collection of T-shirt and souvenir vendors. One of the little islands appeared to have some activity, so a couple of our intrepid crew dinghied over to investigate. They discovered "The Last Bar and Boutique." This establishment offers a full bar (two kinds of beer and couple of rum drinks), about a dozen T-shirts (the Boutique) and a full service restaurant (fish and lobster, deep-fried on a Coleman stove), all under the shade of some old sails and tarpaulins strung between the trees. There are no chairs, but there's a three-legged table, with the fourth corner lashed to a tree. The proprietors, Nigel and Bushman, are friendly, and keep the joint hopping by occasionally swapping out the car batteries that run the incredibly loud stereo. Bushman has a dog, for us animal lovers, and their "watersports facility" rents a worn-out sailboard for a reasonable price. But above all, the view is unbeatable from the top of the hill. You can see the entire reef, a Kaleidoscope of colors in the water, and all the boats seemingly suspended in air. Be sure to visit this place, get yourself a Hairoun beer (the SVGI local brew) and admire the view. You won't be disappointed. Down on the beach, we again ran into the folks from the Escapade. This was our third meeting - we bumped into them on the street in Bequia a few days earlier. That night we found that even though the reef breaks up the swells, you can get lots of wind while anchored in the Keys. It blew well over 20 all night, and made sleeping difficult due to the noise and pitching of the boat. I expect had the wind been from the north, it would have been much more comfortable. Next day, we decided to abandon our plan to spend two nights here. It's a beautiful spot, but we were frankly getting a little bored. There's supposed to be excellent snorkeling, but you can't get the boat close to the reef so you have to go by dinghy. Snorkeling by dinghy is always some work, and it's even tougher with an inflatable and a stiff breeze, even with the dinghy moorings supplied by the Tobago Keys park service. We actually snorkeled very little on this entire trip, which was a little disappointing. In the BVI, snorkeling is often convenient to the anchorages, and you snorkel right off the back of your boat. We didn't find snorkeling within easy swimming distance of any anchorage in the Windwards. However, if you're dive certified, this place is ideal. Almost every little island had a dive shop, and they'll take you out in their boat, with all equipment, for a reasonable fee. It's much more convenient than snorkeling or diving from a sailboat. We decided to head over to Palm Island. This small island has a nice resort, and sounded great in the guide book. We motorsailed over in a couple of hours. However, the wind was very strong out of the South that day, and Palm Island's barely-protected anchorage was a mess. There were a number of boats anchored too close together in white caps, pretending they were getting some protection from the island, but we elected to skip it and head over to Union Island. It's a pity, because Palm Island looked enticing from our vantage point. Clifton Bay was only a little calmer than Palm. The Southerly breeze was sending swells right into the harbor. It looked very uncomfortable, and if not for the protection of the reef, it would have been an impossible anchorage. We motored around Union Island to Chatham Bay, on the Northwest side and well-protected from the Southerly breeze. The trip around the island was wild and wooly, even under power, in huge swells. Chatham Bay is an enormous anchorage, uninhabited, and absolutely beautiful. I'm glad the wind/water conditions were lousy that day - otherwise we might have missed this place. You can anchor anywhere; there's a broad, sandy shelf extending half a mile or more from the white-sand, crescent beach. The entire bay is about four miles wide. It is surrounded by tree-covered mountains and tall rocky cliffs. The only civilization is a couple of shacks in one corner - we never saw any activity there, and believed they were uninhabited. A dinghy trip ashore was interesting. As you approach the beach by dinghy, you must wait until your bow hits ground before you get out. The water is consistently six feet deep right up to the beach. If you step out too early you'll go in over your head. The only creatures on the beach are a few goats and cows. If you walk across the beach you step into dense woods, and almost immediately the mountain goes straight up. It's easy to understand why this place is uninhabited. It would be a major project to get a road there, so it is only accessible by water. There's a price for the raw beauty, though. The cruising guide says this area is prone to "shrieking gusts" of wind. We had a big laugh reading this phrase on our way in. We got anchored up easily, and had a nice 15-knot breeze off the shore. A few minutes later, I saw the water boiling off to starboard. Then the 30-knot gust hit us broadside. Everything on the boat groaned as we slammed sideways, swinging around to face this new breeze. Some of our crew were swimming and had to clap on to the dinghy to avoid blowing away! After about two minutes the gust subsided and we swung 90 degrees back to our original position. This phenomenon repeated about every ten minutes all night. We now have more respect for the term "shrieking gust." Next morning, we motored back around to Clifton to clear customs. The wind was still howling out of the South. While our shore party did the paperwork, we made another call for Moorings assistance with our transmission. Rick Chinsley came out and once again explained how the shift lever worked. "It's a "feel" thing," he said. I could not convince him we had a real problem. However, he did replace the bent prop on our dinghy (it was like that when we got it - honest) and recommended we overnight at Petit Martinique (PM) instead of Clifton, so we could get out of the wind. He even made us a dinner reservation with a buddy of his, and got us a free mooring. We liked Rick a lot, even if he didn't fix our transmission. We didn't spend any time in Clifton, other than the hour it took to clear customs. Some of it looked nice, but much of the town was pretty run-down. However, they were having some kind of festival with a parade. It probably would have been fun to stick around had the weather been more cooperative. The trip over to PM was pretty wild, motor sailing into heavy wind and waves, but an exhilarating ride nonetheless. We hadn't sailed much the past few days, and enjoyed it. PM and it's sister island Petit St. Vincent (PSV) are tiny islands a short dinghy ride apart, but in different countries. PSV is part of the SVGI, and PM is part of Grenada. We had cleared out of the SVGI already, and there's no customs on PM, so technically we stayed there illegally. But the guide book said that's customary (slight pun intended). PM is rumored to be founded by smugglers and thieves, so it seemed appropriate. It is very different from PSV, which is a privately-owned, very exclusive island resort. However, you can anchor there, and the dining is supposed to be superb. PM on the other hand is a settlement of small, sometimes dilapidated houses, but all with that Caribbean flair for pastel colors. It's quaint and quite beautiful in it's own way. We picked up a mooring off the Palm Beach Club, which is a beach front restaurant operated by Emmanuel - one of the nicest folks you'll meet in the islands. We dinghied ashore to visit the "supermarket." A Windward Island supermarket reminds me of the country stores near my childhood home in rural North Carolina. They are typically one-room wood buildings, with a small assortment of staples. You never know what they'll have (except beer and rum) or what they won't. Don't expect it to be like shopping at home. I never saw one that was air-conditioned, and they have only a small selection of refrigerated goods. We wandered through town, visiting the bakery - another tiny wood building, where the proprietors also appeared to live. On our way back down to the beach we saw numerous boats under construction. They still build boats completely by hand in their back yards, some of them 30-40 feet long. PM is a thriving and interesting little community, not driven solely by tourist trade like so many islands. The locals are laid-back and friendly, and we enjoyed this opportunity to be part of the Caribbean daily life for a short while. Dinner at Palm Beach was a real treat. This restaurant was probably our best dining experience in the Windwards. Emmanuel picked us up at the boat in a launch, and we had a beautiful table by the beach. The food was excellent! We had the usual Callaloo Soup, fresh fish, and Christophene, but the preparation was just a little better than most of the other restaurants. And for dessert - Mango Mousse! The dessert alone is worth a trip back. As soon as we went to bed, the wind instantly picked up from a light 8-10 knots to about 25. Another sleepless night as we pitched and banged. Next morning we found our mooring had drug about fifty feet and we were right on top of a junk sailboat anchored in the bay. Luckily we didn't hit anything. As many times as I worried about our anchoring skills, we only drug once, and it was on a free mooring. You get what you pay for, I guess. To his credit, Emmanuel came out and apologized the next morning. We filled our water tanks at the brand-new fuel dock nearby. They told us it was new because a hurricane two years before had torn out nearly every dock on the west side of all the islands. The hurricane wasn't even visible locally, but the storm surge traveled from miles away to destroy everything on many of the beaches. We at last understood why the cruising guide inaccurately described so many dinghy docks, and why we ate dinner so often in wet pants! >>From PM, we sailed around the North end of Carriacou (Carry-a-coo). The wind had settled some, and was behind us now, so we had a nice run and reach to Hillsborough, where we cleared in through customs. Hillsborough is a fairly large town with plenty of anchoring room in the bay. But it's also a busy port, and we had been advised not to overnight there. We pulled out and sailed on down to Tyrrel Bay. Tyrell is another large, well-protected bay with lots of anchoring room. We intended to take an island tour, but it was really hot ashore and we didn't think it was worth it. There are a number of businesses there, but it is more laid-back than most of the other islands (if you can imagine that). We wanted a drink but couldn't find an attended bar. Some had their doors open, but no one was there. After a few beers on the front steps of the "supermarket" we eventually ended up in the Sea Blast Bar, a tiny place with loud music, strong drinks, cable TV, and Internet access ($5 EC for 15 minutes). Rum Punch is the drink of choice in the islands, so we ordered several. These were made with Jack Iron (also called Iron Jack) Rum, which is made in the islands. I think someone invented it thinking the Caribbean may become a world power and need ballistic missile fuel. When they found it was too dangerous for propulsion of explosives they decided to drink it. This is powerful stuff. I know - my wife couldn't drink hers, so I had two. We met some British folks at the Sea Blast who sail the Windwards every year. We all sent some email, had some drinks and laughs, and headed back to our boats, which were anchored near each other. Shortly afterward, a traditional wood three-masted schooner came in and anchored under sail. This exhibition brought everyone in the harbor out on deck. We dined that night at Poivre et Sel (Salt & Pepper), a French restaurant next door to the Sea Blast. This place only has about 8 tables, all arranged on a 2nd-floor veranda overlooking the bay. It's a beautiful view, especially at night. Tyrell Bay's dinghy dock was another casualty of the hurricane surge. The surf in the afternoon was minimal and we had no trouble landing the inflatable. But that night it picked up enough to get everyone wet again. We had to wash our feet at the Sea Blast before entering Poivre et Sel.. Dinner was good, but not exceptional compared to others on this trip. It was, however, prepared with a French flair, so it was a change of pace. Many of us had Barracuda (fish of the day), with a choice of sauces. The Barracuda was bony and strong-flavored and just didn't suit our taste. But the sauce and preparation were excellent and the meal may have been stellar with a different fish. Others had pasta dishes, which were delicious and generously-portioned. In this interesting little restaurant, you literally dine in the proprietors' home. Their living room has the bar on one side, the boutique in the middle, and dining on the veranda. The bathroom is their own, complete with shower, towels, toothpaste, etc. It was an unusual experience, but they are very gracious hosts. It seems everyone in town knows them, and visits their bar before the night is over. Next morning, we weighed anchor early for the 5-hour sail to Grenada. As soon as the anchor was up, I pushed the gear lever forward to motor out of the anchorage. The lever wouldn't budge! It was stuck in neutral, and the headwind was rapidly blowing us down on the boat anchored behind us. We quickly dropped anchor again, and held our breath to see if it would set in time. The chain pulled taught about 20 feet short of collision. Tyrell Bay was too deep in the surrounding hills to allow radio communication with any Moorings base, so we resorted to the cell phone. Including registration and other problems, it took over an hour to contact them. By then we had disassembled enough of the mechanism to free the handle for throttle control in the cockpit, and shift gears by stomping on the linkage through an access hole in the cabin below. We motored out of Tyrell Bay an hour late and set sail. This sail was gorgeous, with great weather, a 20-knot breeze, and 4-foot swells at worst. It made up for the trials of the morning. The coast of Grenada was lush and green, in contrast to the brown islands we had visited so far. This island looked more like the Caribbean postcards. Grenada's airport is on Saline Point at the southern tip of the island. As we rounded, the planes came over so low, it seemed they would take off the tip of our mast. Soon after rounding, the University and Medical School came into view - a lovely collection of pink buildings with Terra Cotta roofs, right on the shore. It's a beautiful sight from the water. When we rounded the point we radioed the Moorings and they sent a chase boat to check out our shifter problem. A mechanic armed with two screwdrivers leapt onto our boat, and after a moment's observation pronounced our shifter dead. Turns out it's a common problem, typically preceded by the intermittent symptoms we'd seen on the entire trip. I hope they inform their satellite bases, who refused to believe we had a problem. The mechanic didn't have a new shifter with him, but rigged ours so it was easier to shift from below (by hand instead of stomping) and promised to meet us at our anchorage in Prickly Bay with the replacement part. The entrance to Prickly Bay is marked by a small privately owned and maintained lighthouse, on the lawn of a beautiful residence overlooking the bay. We entered under power, with one of our crew, hereafter nicknamed "Scotty," in the "engine room" shifting gears on command and muttering in a Scottish accent about Dilithium Crystals - a hot and thankless job. We hooked up off the Spice Island Marina, and went exploring ashore. We immediately agreed Grenada was the prettiest island we'd visited. It's more tourist-friendly than the Grenadines, although to some that would be more "spoiled." It depends on your personal taste, I guess. The Grenadines are more "natural" maybe - some say more like the "old Caribbean." But it was nice to find more modern conveniences, with real grocery stores, some air conditioning, beach bars with electricity and blenders, and so on. Grenada strikes a good balance between natural beauty and tourist luxury. We had drinks at the Marina's tiki bar in the afternoon, followed by a fine dinner in their restaurant that night. Coconut Shrimp is one my favorite dishes, and hard to find - theirs was superb. Prickly Bay also offers several other restaurants within walking distance and it's only a short cab ride to nearby St. Georges. The marina had a dinghy dock, which we'd begun to consider a luxury. A friendly passerby helped us tie up, and seemed almost offended when we offered a tip. Grenada was certainly a drastic change from the culture we'd grown accustomed to over the past nine days. The next morning we motored 45 minutes to the charter base at Mt. Hartman Bay - the end of our journey. The Moorings base and marina here is beautiful. A nice location, and very well kept. We had arrangements to stay in the Secret Harbor hotel high on the hill overlooking the bay, and also owned by the Moorings. Secret Harbor was fabulous! The view when you enter their lobby is breathtaking! The entire lobby is open-air, and overlooks a patio, the pool, and ultimately the bay and the open ocean. The hotel consists of about 15 duplexes, arranged down the hillside. The front desk, restaurant, bar, and pool are in a building at the top of the hill. Every room in this building has a dramatic view of the harbor. One side of the pool literally hangs on the cliff, so you can dangle on the pool edge for a spectacular view. All the buildings are brick, in sort of an old-English style (I don't know much about architecture), resembling castles. All the doorways are arched, and many of the doors are hand carved. The architectural theme continues into the guest rooms, which have exposed brickwork indoors, brick arches and arched doors, and a each has a large private deck with an expansive view of the bay. Each room must be at least 1,000 square feet. The bathroom is enormous, with a bidet, custom Italian tile throughout, and a 3-foot circular window overlooking the harbor. It is the most spectacular hotel I've ever stayed in. My crew kept asking why we didn't spend ten days here and two on the boat, instead of the other way around. We dined at the hotel that night, and the restaurant was superb. Compared to our other experiences, this one was truly fine dining, with excellent service, first-rate food, and an extensive wine list. Entrees were $15-$30 US range. I definitely recommend this hotel for anyone making use of the Marina. Others may find it somewhat isolated. If you want to be near the action in St. Georges or Grand Anse, be prepared for a 15-20 minute cab ride over rough roads. The next day we arranged a cab tour of the island. Dave's Tours is just Dave, and he is an excellent host with an air-conditioned van. A tour of the entire island takes all day, and we opted for the shortened 4- hour tour. Grenada is a large, diverse island, and there's a lot to see. We toured picturesque crescent beaches, visited a waterfall, drove through the rain forest, and stopped at a crater lake high up in the mountains. At the waterfall, we bumped into our British friends from the Sea Blast. Perhaps most interesting were stops in a spice plantation and a nutmeg processing plant. Grenada is famous for spice production, including chocolate, cinnamon and cloves, but nutmeg (and it's byproduct, Mace) is their major export.. It's well worth the time to listen to the nutmeg story, and to meet the locals who work in it. Grenadans are truly friendly folks, and seem to enjoy tourists rather than view them solely as a source of income. They seem more financially independent, have a more sophisticated infrastructure, and have less poverty than some of the upper islands. Dave dropped us off at St. Georges, for a taste of the city life. This city is stunningly beautiful! The hills surrounding the bay are covered with pastel homes and businesses, their red Terra Cotta roofs contrasting brilliantly with the lush green backdrop. The streets slope steeply down to the water, providing a striking view from almost anywhere. We would have liked a longer visit here, but only stayed for a little shopping and lunch at The Nutmeg restaurant. This casual upstairs pub has a dazzling waterfront view, and is a local favorite. The food was basic, mostly Rotis and sandwiches, but was delicious and inexpensive, with generous portions. I recommend the Flying Fish sandwich. We had planned dinner in Grand Anse, which is the main beach near St. Georges, but were just too tired for another cab ride. Instead, we took advantage of Barbecue Night at the marina's Rum Squall Bar. It was great fun, with a band, food cooked on an outdoor grill, and dining by the water. The crowd was mostly yachties, and we met a hilarious American couple living on a boat anchored just off the Marina, and had a great time swapping stories. I think if we sail this area again, we will do a round trip from Grenada. This island is beautiful and great fun, and is a good way to start and end the trip. The next morning we had to catch a cab at 6:15 for the 15-hour trip back to North Carolina. I think we all agreed this was a more challenging vacation than our BVI trips, and everyone was tired and sore. But it was a unique experience, and I'd definitely recommend a sailing trip in this area. It has a good combination of safety, adventure, unspoiled natural beauty, local charm, and tourist amenities. Each destination is quite different, and you really can find whatever you want just by modifying your itinerary. We visited only a fraction of the available anchorages, leaving plenty of adventure for a return trip.
The official The Caribbean Travel Roundup World Wide Web site is http://caribtravelnews.com. The CTR is also available on America Online. Contact: Paul Graveline, 9 Stirling St., Andover, MA 01810- 1408 USA :Home (Voice or Fax) 978-470-1971. E-mail via editor@caribtravelnews.com or CTREDITOR@aol.com
| CTR Home | << Back | ToC | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Search |