We're baaaack.

Last night Heron and Freestyle arrived back on their moorings in Marion.  Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

I promise to  post descriptions and pictures of our last two legs, from St. John to Virginia then home... within a few weeks.  The track for those legs is accessible from the column to the right.

T-1 Day and Counting

Tomorrow we’ll be in the air on the way back to St. John to begin the trip back to the Chesapeake. Once again Heron and Freestyle will be sailing together, trying to see who will catch the biggest fish.  We will be covering 1570 nm in 14 days. Unlike the cruise of the eastern Caribbean, which covered 1200 nm in 7 weeks, this will very much be a sailing trip, with minimal time ashore.  We will continue to use the SPOT tracker, so you can follow us on the link on the right-hand column of this blog.

 

To summarize it in three sections:

1) 498 nm from St. John to Provo over 6 days, two overnights.

2) 422 nm from Provo to Marsh Harbor over 4 days, two overnights.

3) 650 nm from Marsh Harbor to Little Creek over 4 days, three overnights.

The long range forecasts is still great –downwind sailing with mild seas. Here are some of the weather sites that we like:

www.passageweather.com

http://www.tide-forecast.com/locations/LameshurBay-StJohns-VirginIslands/forecasts/latest/six_day

http://www.tide-forecast.com/locations/SanSalvadorWatlingIsland-Bahamas/forecasts/latest/six_day

http://www.windguru.cz/int/index.php?sc=6351

 

Here is the latest plan-of-record, subject to weather etc.

 

29 April: fly to boats in St. John.

 

30 April: sail to Bahia De Sardinas, Culebra (31 nm, 4 hrs@7.5kn)

 

1 May: sail to Club Nautico, San Juan PR (52 nm, 7 hrs@7.5kn)

2 May: layday in San Juan

3-5 May: sail to anchorage near Turtle Cove Marina, Providenciales (Provo) Turks & Caicos (416 nm, 56 hrs@7.5kn)

6-7 May: sail overnight to Port Nelson, Rum Cay (188 nm, 25 hrs@7.5kn)

8-9 May: sail overnight to Marsh Harbor, Great Abaco (234 nm, 31 hrs@7.5kn)

10 May: lay day in Marsh Harbor

11-15 May: sail from Marsh Harbor to Little Creek VA (650 nm, 87 hrs@7.5kn)

--520nm on a heading of 021M to the Hatteras waypoint
--we’ll use Commanders or Chris Parker weather routing services.
-- weather permitting ETD is 0800 May 11; ETA is May 14, 2245 if 7.5kn, 1720 if 8.0kn.

 

It's been very tricky to plan a route through the Turks and Caicos and the Bahamas.  Both boats draw 7.5 ft --deeper or close to the limit of draft for many of the harbors there.  It is critical to arrive in good light to navigate on the banks and in the harbors.  This will be interesting!

Closing the Loop --the Final Week

After decompressing for the day at gorgeous Watermelon Cay in Leinster Bay St. John, on March 17th we rounded the bend and picked up our home mooring in Great Cruz Bay St. John. We had closed the loop. In six weeks we had cruised to Grenada and back, with over 1200 nm under the keel. I don’t have my log book to analyze and report statistics, so that will have to wait for a future post. (Oh joy, you say.) The important thing was, we were were all smiles and we had one more week to chill... I mean bake. Emily strung up the courtesy flags of every country that we visited from the starboard spreader and we gloated for an hour or two.

Emily and Jay Back in St. John, Under the Flags of 11 Countries

That evening my son Ben and his girlfriend Nina joined Marie, Dave, Adam, Emily and I on Heron in St. John. They commenced their spring break crash while the rest of us headed over the mountain in a bus to meet up with the Codys at Skinny Legs in Crown Bay. A knife fight was threatened during a loud abusive argument between two local ladies, but otherwise the bus ride was pretty tame. Skinny Legs has quite a reputation and we did our best to observe, then reinforce it. To the best of my fuzzy recollection, I believe that it was St. Patrick’s Day. The one dollar bus ride back was a high speed roller coaster ride without rails. Everyone clapped when it ended back at Cruz Bay, glad to still be alive. There is something about those St. John busses!

We spent Marie, Dave and Adam’s last day aboard, on the beach at Water Island near Crown Bay St. Thomas.  It was wonderfully peaceful.  After they left we cruised on to stay at: Christmas Cove, Maho Bay, Great Lameshure Bay and Great Cruz Bay. We sailed, snorkeled, eat, read, and slept. I could do that loop a dozen times over, it’s that beautiful. But all good things must come to an end, and honestly, we wanted to go home.

On March 24th, Emily and I suffered a horrendous flight –a final adventure story in and of itself. Bottom line: I’ll never fly U.S. Air again. In the future I’ll pay more or change plans to get onto non-stop flights. This was the second time that they had to repair a plane that completely disrupted our plans –poor reliability and resilience. This time our flight was delayed several hours for repairs, causing us to miss the connecting flight and to crash in a hotel in Philly. On the sunny side, it did make our arrival home that much sweeter!

Thanks for following us.  Stay tuned for more.
Jay and Emily P-A

St. Martin and the BVI's

Much has happened since my last post. Emily and I have been home in New England since May 25th.  Sorry about the lapse; eventually, experiencing the days sapped my energy to write retrospectives. Here are a few quick posts to catch up on the plot before the next book begins... tomorrow!

On March 10th, we motor-sailed in a light breeze from Nevis to St. Martin, an easy 62 nm route. The sudden contrast from the large seas and high wind of the past weeks made us appreciate this sleepy sultry weather. We hid under the blessed bimini to avoid the intense sun from a blue sky. 

Sunrise Departure from Nevis

 

We skirted the west coast of St. Kitts, passed St. Eustatius, then crossed to the Pelican Bay anchorage at St. Martin. We waited there an hour or so for the evening opening of the Dutch bridge entrance to Simpson Bay. The several megayachts (100-200+ ft.) anchored in Pelican Bay were quite a spectacle –their owner’s intent, I’m sure. When the bridge went up, true to tradition, crazy cruisers and megayachts drove like bumper car drivers to get through, cutting in ahead of the next guy. There was little clearance to the sides of some of the massive yachts. Immediately adjacent to the bridge, the deck of the Simpson Bay “Yacht Club” was, as usual, packed with drinking spectators, cheering at the parade passing in single file.

Pete earned the Trickiest Docking Award for the trip when he maneuvered Heron between an anchor chain and a protruding bow into a tight channel. He then turned and backed her into a slip that had barely enough room for our fenders. A marina push boat stood ready but only needed to quip, "Nice job." When we finished hyperventilating, we hooked up the shore power and turned on the air conditioning. Ahhh. I was hugely relieved and pretty damn proud of us for having arrived back to civilization, on schedule for our biggest crew change. The weather and logistics had been tricky for weeks, but here we were. The rest is cake. It was also great to rejoin Freestyle, located on the opposite side of the dock. (I could see when the fresh fish was on their grill.) We had last been with them 2.5 weeks ago in Bequia, and were psyched to be sailing together with Don, Pat and their guests for the remaining two weeks.


Heron Happily Squeezed into Simpson Bay Marina

Over the next few days, my sister Marie, her friend Dave and my nephew Adam arrived.  Then Peter, Jim and Sharon flew home. The downside of this was my occasional sigh from logistical overload, from feeling like a cruise director. But the upside, as for many Heron cruises, was the unequalled pleasure of combining one part interesting people with two parts water and three parts serendipity --a largely uncontrolled social and physical concoction that takes all of us out of our Idaho. (This is one of my dad's legacies to his kids.) Jim and Sharon (neither of whom I had ever sailed with) had been full-on participants for the past two weeks. We hiked up rocky streams through virgin forests. We talked away nighttime hours while eating delicious homemade callaloo soup in Heron’s cabin with our island guide and cook. Like family, we all agreed with Sharon’s comment (albeit influenced by wine in Freestyle’s palatial cockpit), that these were two of the best weeks of our lives. It was especially hard for us to say goodbye to Pete –a great friend and a supreme seaman. Pete, Emily and I had shared many amazing experiences over the past five weeks and we had been working toward this trip for years. True to his rule to “always leave things better than how you found them”, Pete’s last act before heading to the airport was to remove the leaking diaphragm pump from the aft head pump-out system –a nasty stinky job that he jumped on.   That's classic “already took care of that” Pete.

Marie, Dave, Adam, Emily and I enjoyed St. Martin and the Simpson Bay Marina for a few days. We truly missed the natural beauty and culture of the rustic islands –especially Dominica and Grenada, both fantastic and transformative places. But we forced ourselves to make the best of the present situation by eating unbelievable French pastries and coffee for every breakfast. We drowned our sorrows over hit-the-spot Mexican dinners with a rum punch or two. We swam at a postcard-perfect beach and explored an abandoned resort that looks like the set of an Indiana Jones movie and is only reachable by dinghy. (We later learned that the islanders believe it to be haunted.) We explored colorful Marigot and dined by the bay. Of the larger towns that we visited throughout the islands, IMHO the French ones were the most charming, authentic, open, funky, clean, integrated and alive. Marigot was right up there. Although the marina is in the Dutch side of St. Martin in a retail strip overloaded with Americans, cars, taxis, airport noise, restaurants, seedy joints and litter, at this point in our trip it felt nice to “look on” a bit of New Jersey. (I know, an unfair iconic reference, but you get my point.) We almost went into the Burger King. The marina and its community of cruisers is a great nest, tucked inside Simpson Bay. We felt why many boats arrive in November and do not touch the dock lines until May. But our plan kept us moving.

 

R&R For Crews of Freestyle and Heron

 

My Fishin' Buddy Dave and His Gal (my sister) Marie



Historic and Beautiful Dorade Graces the Docks at Simpson Bay Marina

On March 15th, we sailed 92 nm from St. Martin to Peter Island in the British Virgin Islands --our last ocean passage of the cruise. The notorious reputation of this Anegada Passage is probably given by smaller-boat cruisers waiting in the BVI’s for a weather window to beat upwind across this often rough water. Because we followed the counter-clockwise loop direction around the eastern Caribbean, we experienced deep reaching with a following sea –and the weather was nearly perfect. Good thing too, since I was the only experienced sailor on Heron (ok, except now for Emily), and Don was the only one aboard Freestyle. Side-by-side like two puppies from the same strange litter, Freestyle and Heron ran downwind from sun up to sun down, dropping the hook in lovely Peter Island as the stars came out. We had hoped to spend a night on a mooring in Manchioneel Bay on Cooper Island, but as we passed by, it was filled up with charter boats. Welcome to the BVI’s my friend.

An event on that passage that I will never forget is THE FISH. Dave, my sister’s friend, is a fish hunter --not just a guy who drags a line once in a long while (like me). Dave came aboard in St. Martin bearing gifts of rod, reel, line, lures, tools, etc. etc. (Maybe he was worried that simply sailing would be too boring.) He and Marie travel from Alaska to the Canadian Maritimes to Florida to hunt fish like Ahab hunted his whale. Now he’s aboard Heron, and I’m thinking Cody on Freestyle has got to be worried. Don’s trophy fish from the trip down from Norfolk is still being consumed now, four months later, but my fish envy is still consuming me. Dave is my hired gun to finish this and now is my chance. (Insert chest butts and grunts here.)  Three minutes after the lure hit the water, THE FISH was on. Twenty minutes later, with as much drag on as we thought the line could take, IT was still taking line. My (like totally ripped dude) upper body was spent. Dave took over and showed me how it was supposed to be done. His peg leg was carving a hole in my deck as he worked the rod. Suddenly it was gone. The knot on the lure had slipped. I have to assume that IT was way bigger than Don’s trophy... but we never got even a glimpse of THE FISH. We’ve re-stocked with lures and back on the hunt. Dave’s mania has spread.

When the sun came up, I recognized the unmistakable and gorgeous lines of Marion sailboat “Volunteer”, barely a stones throw from our quarter. Sure enough, Norm and Maryellen S. were aboard and had recognized us when we arrived. Here were Volunteer, Freestyle and Heron, 1,420 nm as the frigate bird flies from our summer moorings, barely a stones throw away from each other in Marion Harbor. It’s a small world!  It was amazing to hear that they had been together on the boat since New Year’s day. Now THAT’s a rare relationship! Crossing tracks with Volunteer, closing in on our St. John mooring, having family aboard and having my son Ben and his friend Nina arriving the next day, we felt the same contentment we feel when we round West Island and head for the barn.

Nevis Nice

Yesterday, March 8th, we motor-sailed 54nm from English Harbor Antigua to the island of Nevis. The wind was within ten degrees of dead downwind, TWS 20, seas 6-8’, so we motor-sailed at 1800 rpm under jib alone. The autopilot did everything. We just watched and clicked the course up or down every now and then.

THE worst movie Mindy and I have ever seen is “Joe Versus the Volcano”. It all came back to me in the past few days. Doyle’s cruising guide characterizes these as “the islands that touch the clouds”. Huge conical mountains form the center of these islands, with plains sloping outward toward the ocean. A hotspot in the mantle successively popped up the islands of this inner chain, including St. Eustatious, St. Kitts, Nevis and now Montserrat as the plate shifted. Coming downwind from Antigua, we passed Montserrat first. This one is active and the smoke plume was revealed when the clouds that hang over it shifted. Sailing past an active volcano is something I have never done before, and it was a powerful experience. Eventually Nevis Peak, a long extinct volcano on our destination island climbed out of the ocean. After mooring off Charlestown on the western lee of Nevis, the vast unbroken horizon of the Caribbean Sea was off our stern and the breathtaking unspoiled green slopes of Nevis Peak were off our bow. Soon after the sun melted into the ocean behind us, the red planet Mars –the closest it has been to Earth in many years—rose out of the caldera of the mountain. We looked in silent awe at the immensity of the ocean, earth and sky around us. Soon after that, the full moon raised it’s face over the southern slope. We threatened to sacrifice Emily to the volcano but she was uncooperative (having never seen the movie).

We spent most of today ashore. The first few hours were spent dealing with customs, immigration, the port authority and then customs again. I’ll save you from the painful details. The people here are sooo friendly and measured in their pace. Even after five weeks in the islands, this place is surprisingly relaxed. We took a cab ride around the island for a few hours, highlighted by a stop at magnificent gardens at Golden Rock plantation and great food at a local restaurant. The quality and standard of living here are higher than many other places we have visited. This place is gorgeous.  Like their license plates read, "Nevis Nice".  David Watusi, our Rastafarian driver, gave us a very personal feel for his island. He plays reggae and his own style of island music in Onset (Beachcomber?) during the summers, so we hope to meet him again.

We finished off the day with an unforgettable pink sunset from the beach at the Double Deuce beach bar, followed by dinner grilled aboard—the last of the wonderful pesto chicken breasts that Jon left with us. The wind is calm for the first time since we arrived almost five weeks ago. The forecast is perfect for our 62nm trip tomorrow around the west coast of St. Kitts and then up to St. Martin.

English Harbor OMG

OK, so I might have been too harsh on the harbor at Deshaise. The incessant wind would make you grumpy too. But the town was very charming. When I went ashore in the morning to clear out through customs, the street cleaners were sweeping up the smallest debris, raking even the inside of the culverts. They clearly take pride in their waterfront. This is a huge contrast with the trashy waterfront streets in Portsmouth Dominica. Many Portsmouth houses had rusty corrugated steel roofs and the streets and culverts were trash collectors. In Deshaise they were mostly immaculately maintained European style homes with nice European cars parked on the street. People of all colors and styles were walking down the street on their way to work, fresh baguette under their arm. Just wanting to fit in, I stopped at the bakery and did the same. Baguette in hand, I people-watched while waiting for customs to open. Customs in Portsmouth was forms and carbon paper in multiple windows of a tiny garage-like structure in a run-down section of town that was hard to get to, surrounded by industrial shops –wonderfully raw. In Deshaise customs was one computer terminal in an internet café slash local art shop You type in the info, print the form, and pay the cashier a few bucks to stamp the paper. No government official or carbon paper within sight. 40-odd miles; worlds apart. I much like each of them for their unique character.

Our sail on Monday February 5 from Guadeloupe to English Harbor Antigua was 42 nm (4-5 hours) in 090 TWA, 20-25 TWS, pulling it forward to 045-50 AWA. The highest AWS we saw was around 33 knots, with an average around 26 knots apparent. We hand-steered across the same ol’ 7-11’ seas, some with rounded shape and regular spacing, some jumbled and confused. Jim R. drove for at least three hours with a smile on his face. We reached with double-reefed main and changed gears with the roller-furled #4 jib, trying to keep the speed down to around 9 knots in the large seas. As demanded by the captain, we reeled in the few boats that left before us –two prizes that carried neither gold or silver. We let them go. We dropped sails within cannon shot of Antigua, and med-moored with our transom in the 18th century at the Nelson’s Dockyard Marina.

Nelson’s Dockyard. Wow. Kirt M. had spoken passionately about this place and boy oh boy did he get it right. The marina (more reverentially called “the dockyard”) is a-maz-ing. THANK YOU KIRT!!! It is a national park, a restored bit of history with magnificent stone architecture everywhere. I’ve never seen anywhere with more cannons and anchors lying about. But this is the real thing. The plaque a few yards from our stern records the location where one officer lost his life to another in a duel over seniority. The capstans use to careen the naval vessels and the hurricane chains on the harbor bottom are as authentic as the bollards that our dock line is tied to. (I hope we didn’t snag one of those chains with our anchor as we backed into the dock –as often happens.)

Heron was the smallest and only production boat on this end of the dockyard. Huge classic yachts were on both sides of us. Our neighbor “Marie Rose”, an original 1920s Herreshoff out of Newport, was an especially gorgeous sight. Captain (and wooden boat carpenter) Jason knew most of the wooden boat clan from the Mattapoisett and Marion area. Over the next few days we shared several fascinating conversations over dinner and varnish brushes. Varnish crews from the island worked like bees on many of the boats. At one time I counted five of them hanging far up in the tall rigs, sanding and varnishing the already flawless spars. (BTW Jason said that varnish work is more expensive here than in Newport.) The perfect German classic yacht to our port mentioned that they do varnish work for seven months out of the year, taking a five month break in the Med. They completely stripped a second teak and mahogany doghouse (that looked brand new to my eyes) because it was darker than the newly re-done first doghouse. Whereas Deshaise smells like wood fires, ashes landing on our deck, English Harbor smells like varnish and buzzed with the constant sound of small vacuums removing sanded varnish dust.

This place has rows of custom mega-yachts, with masts so tall they hosted red aviation lights. Falmouth harbor is also visible, just to the north, with two more marinas loaded with so many red-light masts that it looks like a freakin bridge. Peter Townsend’s yacht is a few boats from Heron. This is the place that fellow mega-yacht owners want to see and be seen. It goes bonkers in April for Antigua Race Week. But unlike other gee whiz glitteratty hot spots around the world, this place has amazing historic character.

But the most amazing thing about our being here was the coincident arrival of “the royals” --the **British** Royal Family of course. As we docked we were handed a notice: “On March 6th, 2012, the Nelsons Dockyard will be hosting members of the Royal Family. As a result, there will be restrictions on all motor vehicles entering the Nelson’s Dockyard on the said day.” We thought that the red carpet and decorations were to celebrate Heron’s arrival. Apparently not. What have we sailed into?! Sure enough, the morning after our arrival, Edward and Sophie arrived behind the blue flashing lights and sirens of police and Coast Guard boats. They were aboard the Gosling-owned M.Y. Leander –246’, 15’ Draft, 43’ Beam, as I look at their data on my AIS. At her truck she flew several flags, one clearly the royal burgee. (Kirt, please help me out here.) On her stern she flew the the burgee of the Royal Navy Tot club of Antigua and Barbuda. The Tot is a very traditional and exclusive club that toasts a tot of rum at 6pm –but I’ve not researched this and I could have been under the influence of excessive regalia when I heard that from a British couple who were next to us. Truthfully, I'm from the colonies and ain't no royal groupie, but... IMHO we Americans need more of this stuff. It was goose-bump exciting.

The details of the formal reception are too intricate for me to recount here. Heron was just a few slips down the dock but we preferred a front(er) row seat at the dockyard’s Hotspot Café. We enjoyed a proper English breakfast with an unobstructed view at the edge of the lawn, finishing with a cappuccino just as things got underway. We were entrenched among tall secret service guys in black suits with ear buds and sunglasses, undercover Antiguan dudes with heavy backpacks, soldiers in camouflage with automatic weapons and full combat gear, marching band and honor guard folks in brightly colored and antiquated Antiguan and British uniform with sabers and batons and spiked helmets, every Antiguan police officer, national park official and politician... The Tot insignia adorned shirts, hats and flags. Relatively few members of public were present; the freshly painted, massive and ancient wooden doors sealed off the only opening in the stone walls. (The old cannonades were still pointing down the narrow stone-lined alley that leads up to the gate.) M.Y. Leander maneuvered back to the specially-built pier and then waited a tasteful period while the white-uniformed honor guard froze, arrayed in perfect rows. The British flag remained folded, attached to flag halyard, held by a most auspicious military official. At exactly (and I do mean exactly) the anointed moment, the band started playing and the royal entourage proceeded along the red carpet. Everyone stood. The flag went up. The national anthems played. The British national anthem played twice --once at the beginning, one at the end of the band performance. When one table of Americans didn’t stand and continued to wolf down their chow, they received a very direct admonishment from an Antiguan officer. Edward (sorry, don’t know the title) wore a blue suit. Surrounded by uniformed folks, he stood at a podium without making a speech, reviewed the honor guard, and disappeared inside a building. 

I played papparazzi, clicking off many shots with my 200 mm f/2.8 long lens. I am willing to sell the best shots to the highest bidder. You can expect to see them on CNN or some sleazy tabloid. Emily went nuts. She disappeared into the scene with her camera and emerged later with a great big sheet-eating-grin on her face. For the next two days, we had to work around their presence at the dockyard, as they came and went in a procession of vehicles and security handlers. We had great meals at Trappa's, Sun Ra (really excellent) and Catherine's.  I have more pics, and will insert them later (after I copyright them and speak with my agent). Wifi access is flaky here.

Tomorrow, Thursday the 8th, we head downwind to Nevis and St. Kitts. We plan to move up to St. Martin on Saturday the 10th to change crews and to meet up with Freestyle. I’m not sure if “the royals” will be following us.   I’m not sure what we will do for an encore.  Jay and Emily's (and Pete's, Jim's and Sharon's) incredible adventure continues.  Cheers.

Damn Deshaies (Guadaloupe)

It is Sunday March 4th. We are in Deshaies, Guadaloupe. Yesterday at Les Saintes, after some of the crew hiked to the fort, we got underway, stopped off at the Cousteau Marine Park near Pigeon Island Guadaloupe, then boogied farther down the West coast to arrive in Deschaies before dark --about 33nm total.

Street vendor spices in Bourg des Saintes, Terre de Haut, Les Saintes, oo lah lah.

I have to say, the west coast of Guadaloupe is beautiful to pass but does not provide a single decent harbor. It was an easy crossing of the Guadaloupe Channel and there was almost no wind in the lee of Guadaoupe. So we motored into the bight on the coast opposite Pigeon Island, and as planned, anchored and snorkeled along a reef on the northern shore. This is part of the Cousteau Marine Park and there were dive boats and people snorkeling in many places around area. A few green turtles popped up for air around the boat. Jim and I saw many Sargent Major fish, a few small barracuda and perhaps a dozen other species of small brightly colored fish. The coral appeared to be a bit healthier than in St. John. But overall it was pretty sparse (due I understand to rising ocean temperatures). IMHO the snorkeling in Christmas Cove and Mahoe Bay in the USVI was much more impressive. I had a bad feeling about the exposure and the reef to leeward, so decided not to spend the night there. Nine more motoring miles and we were in Deshaies (pronounced Day-hay).

Deshaies. What can I say. It sucks. At least the part of it that I could experience out in the small bay. As promised by the cruising guide, and just like Fort De France (another evil place for boaters), the wind funnels out of the mountains and pounds the bay with sustained 25-30, gusting 32-40 knots. Through the evening, most of the night and into mid-afternoon today, boats were dragging anchor and trying to reanchor in a better spot. We didn’t drag with the 55 lb delta plus 100’ of chain plus 50’ of nylon (megaplait) rode in the water. As I’ve said before, I could kiss this Vesper WatchMate 850 electronic anchor watch. It alarmed at least four times overnight as we swung around and stretched the rhode. It’s been on for days.

An American-flagged 49 foot Nordhaven trawler that was next to us in Pigeon Island was blown out of the anchorage at Pigeon Island this morning. They saw us on AIS in Deshaies and called us for a report on the VHF. They anchored in behind us and reported that as bad as we had it here, they had it worse at Pigeon Island. At least here the only shore to our lee is hundreds of miles away. After a very close call trying to set the anchor in bad holding with a reef to leeward in Tres Islets Martinique, we’ve learned to choose our anchorages well.

This morning after a particularly mean blast of wind (that I recorded on RNS to be 40 knots), we got a call on the VHF from the Dutch boat next to us. My 9’ Avon inflatable dinghy had flipped upside-down. Sure enough, the propeller on the little 3hp outboard was pointed toward the sky. The seat drifted off with the whitecaps. I had to restrain Emily from diving off the boat and swimming after it. “That’s what swim team is for, dad.” Damn Deshaies! It was secured close astern in the middle of the transom so we didn’t notice it. Fortunately our observant neighbor had called us right away. We righted it, put the engine on the stern pulpit, and flushed everything. After removing the spark plug and other parts, pulling it through to eject the salt water in the cylinders, using lots of WD40, letting it dry, Pete got it started. Now it runs better than before. Pete said he’d only charge me for tune-up. (Just kidding.)

Pete the Drowned Outboard Mechanic

Around 3pm the wind suddenly dropped to 10 knots and Pete, Jim, Sharon and Emily jumped in the dinghy and ran in to see the botanical garden. I felt compelled to stand watch, wondering if this evil harbor will flip the wind switch back on at any moment. Windy forecast or not, tomorrow we are outa-hee-ah, bound for Antigua.

St. Lucia, Martinique and Dominica

Today is Wednesday February 29th. My wrist watch doesn’t even do the 29th of February, proof that we are in a time warp. I do know we are in Prince Rupert Bay Dominica. Jim and Sharon R. just arrived for their visit on Heron. (Together with Emily, Pete and Jay, we are now five strong.)  Their adventure began yesterday, when their flight from Boston-San Juan-Antigua was cancelled to Dominica (Doh-mi-NEE-kuh). Even though they have just extended the runway here on Dominica (an understandable source of national pride), they cancel night landings when the winds are too strong –which they were. But the early morning flight came in on time despite heavy squalls, mountains downwind, ocean upwind. And here they are, safe and sound in Jurassic Park.

We arrived with a deep sigh on Monday after one of the most spectacular sails I can recall, coming 67nm North from Anse Mitan Martinique, near Fort De France, crossing the Dominica Channel. We spent Sunday night there after a short 24nm sail along the West coast of Martinique from Le Marin. We had spent two nights –Friday and Saturday, in an incredible marina there, after a hardy 25nm crossing of the very boisterous Martinique Channel from Rodney Bay, St. Lucia. We had spent Thursday night in Rodney Bay after a long 74nm passage that crossed both Bequia and St. Vincent Channels. Blah blah blah. Just look at the track from the SPOT tracker that is visible on the link on the right-hand side of this web page. Hell, you can see which slip we were in, if our anchor was down is sand or grass, and every other detail visible when you zoom in on the satellite image. Amazing.

We are still in the strong wind pattern mentioned in the earlier post, so have adjusted to sailing in the strong tradewind –very different from what I know from home. Using the last hop as an example, we depart early with a single reef and #4 (85% FT) jib, gliding at 9+ knots in flat seas in the lee of Martinique. Sweeet. We are always fighting a current of around 1 knot that is usually on the nose when we are running North along the islands, then on the beam setting us to leeward when we are sailing across the open channels. But we know what is coming. As we approach the northern end of the island, in goes the second reef, up rolls half the jib, hatches closed, vests and tethers clipped on.  We’re goin’ in. The seas start to roll to the 7 to 11 ft, as forecast, frosted white in the increasing wind. Squirly and gusty, it’s always interesting near the ends of the islands. As we separated from Martinique, a blast at 41 knots apparent took the windex off of the top of the mast. Ohhh Kaay. But with a double reef and tiny jib, the boat just cranks down the line of waves with no stress, nice motion. It’s really fun to be sailing a 53 footer like a dinghy in big seas, threading our path around the nasty bumps, heating it up down the long swell at speeds in the 10’s and 11’s. But that’s too fast for the 3 hour channel crossing, so we push the power winch button and furl in more jib and slow down to 8’s and 9’s. Then the wind drops to 18 knots just to frustrate us.  That's when we start the "five minute rule".  "Be patient; it's coming." as Pete says.  A glassy patch off the bow moves to our starboard side and a 24 foot smooth gray shape surfaces –a whale with a squarish head –a baby version of a bigger one that must be around here somewhere. Awesome. When we finally pass into the lee of Scotts Head, Dominica the seas get huge then later go flat. Jib out, hatches open. Dozens of dolphins swim in lines, some going airborne, seeming to leap with glee. Wicked awesome.  We are greeted by "Andrew", who was to be our boat escort for the next few days, and taken to a mooring near the Purple Turtle restaurant.  We are there so Emily can have good wifi --a necessity for 16-yr-olds to survive.  We purchase a bunch of locally grown bananas from another 'boat boy" and call it a day.

We’ve got wifi again, so more posts and some pics to follow. Right now we’re off on a boat tour of the Indian River with Andrew.

Bequia and the Tobago Keys

It’s Wednesday night February 22nd. We are in Admiralty Bay Bequia, prepared to depart at dawn for Fort de France, Martinique. We arrived here on Monday after spending Sunday night in the Tobago Keys, following Saturday night at Union Island, following Thursday and Friday nights at Carriacou. I have to say all that to figure out what day it is and where I am. I swear, a few days ago I woke up in the middle of the night and for a few minutes had no idea where I was. That’s the downside to the quick tour plan. Spending six days in the Grenadines gave us a great sense of this beautiful area. But it’s time to move on.

The forecast isn’t good. A high pressure building to the north is setting up gradient winds that will reinforce the easterly trades for the next several days. We’ve got to get to Dominica by the 28th to meet Jim and Sharon R. So we are picking the less windy days to get closer. Don, Ed and Hank on Freestyle left yesterday for the same reason. They need to get to St. Martin by the 2nd or earlier, and we are still 329nm away as the crow flies. That’s normally plenty of time, but big seas and strong winds are a real influence. We haven’t yet “turned the corner”. Once we get to Martinique, the wind angle moves aft, making the miles much less weather-dependent. But tomorrow we’ll be on or close to a beat as we run NNE up the coasts of St. Vincent and St. Lucia before turning more N to Martinique. We’ll be crossing passages between those islands with currents that set strongly to the west, and with concentrated winds that tomorrow will be in the upper 20s, seas 7-9’ on top of long period swells that are 9-12’. We’ll see how far we get toward our goal of Fort de France, Martinique --100nm. Rodney Bay St. Lucia is closer to the wind, but is a shorter distance and offers the lee of St. Lucia.

There will be three things that I will remember about our overnight in the Tobago Keys. First, we went snorkeling with the green turtles. They were beautiful. They look like cows grazing on the sea grass in ten feet of perfectly transparent water. They’d pop up for a breath of air every few minutes, swimming with a grace that was wonderful to watch. At one point I saw six of them around me at one time. Second, it was freaky to be anchored in the lee of Horseshoe Reef with nothing above the surface between you and the Azores. The full force of the trades flowed through the several dozen boats anchored there. Third, we had a great evening on Freestyle. We grilled the breaded turkey breasts that Jon left us, had an amazing salad full of fresh onions and tomatoes that Ed made, and washed it all down with a nice cold beverage and animated conversations.

Rumor has it “the queen” (of England) might be coming here this weekend. They were cleaning the waterfront today to get ready. Some very big (over 100 and 200’) yachts have been arriving. If so, it will be a strange situation. I have heard anger and frustration from the residents of these island toward their government of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, which is located on the island of St. Vincent. They don’t feel that it has been doing much to help the Grenadines, e.g., by increasing property taxes drastically to a market-value-based assessment supposedly to raise money for an airport on StV. Politically, the prime minister has aligned himself with Castro and Chavez, presumably to the dismay of the US and EU. He was also accused of rape and of doing things like paying cronies huge salaries to do nothing as long as they kick back large contributions to his campaign. It’s depressing and hard to unravel. Unemployment is huge. There is little economic base (bananas are gone, only tourism remains). Land costs have skyrocketed as foreigners buy huge areas of the island for cheap then develop and sell lots to foreigners at prices that locals can’t imagine. Fuel prices have climbed and a shortage is expected from an announced strike in Trinidad. And on and on. Things are difficult in this paradise. Maybe the queen can help!

The “boat boys” here are terrific. Unlike at Tobago Keys, here they visit your boat with a smile and hand you a leaflet that describes their services. No pressure, no repeated solicitation. As I mentioned, I was happy to support them and they were happy to have the business. Ashore, on several occasions locals actually initiated a “hi” and smiled. In contrast, I was surprised to rarely receive a response from my greetings to the numerous European cruising folks. It appears that there are many Americans here who own property here. I think they were all at Mac’s Pizza when we ate there last night, having lobster pizza. The food and the people were both great.

The dinghy is secured on deck. The grill is stored. A first reef is in. I made 75 gallons of water (from seawater) today, charged the batteries and cooled down the icebox. The boat boys dropped off our re-filled propane bottle and our clean laundry. A fellow finished stripping and sealing and varnishing the swim platform on the stern. The boat is ready. We had a 4 hour tour of the island including the turtle research station and a model wooden boat building shop. I cleared customs and immigration, took trash ashore, and picked up fresh tomatoes and lettuce from the rasta market. And it was hot hot hot. What a day.

Hoping for another good day tomorrow.

PS  I'll add pics later.

Union Island, Grenadines

Yesterday, Saturday February 18, 2012, we continued our slow migration north to Clifton Harbor, Union Island in the Grenadines.

The day for me began, as usual at 0630. I grind and brew a pot of coffee then do my daily check-in to the Caribbean Maritime Mobile Net at 0700 on 7.250 MHz. It’s a nice ritual to give net control George our weather report and to listen to the other regulars provide theirs –from Trinidad, to the ABC islands, to Puerto Rico. George then reads various marine forecasts, the weather synopsis, and the solar flux forecast (radio propagation stuff). I could get the same stuff over the wifi booster (in most harbors), but I am an old fart and enjoy the retro aspect of ham radio. (I’ve been a ham since 1969.) Pete gave me the ultimate “dis”, saying that ham was a notch below facebook on the useless drivel scale. Hey, at least I can “raise the mainland on the wireless”.

Customs and immigration is a strange thing (saying it politely). Pay fees, plus overtime on weekends. Complete big forms, making multiple copies with carbon paper. I thought they stopped making carbon paper when the IBM Selectric typewriter went extinct. The web-connected computer sits next to them on the desk, doing nothing. They copy the list of names into a huge leger book that looks like it came from the Gutenberg press in the 17th century. OK, I like nostalgic technology. But not if it means waiting, re-doing, re-copying, stamping, etc.

Like the books say, etiquette is very important. Shirts with collars, light pants and shoes are preferred. The Grenada customs agent was ranting to his fellow officer about the disrespect the earlier visitor from a 120’ power-yacht showed when he came into the office in a bathing suit and dropped his papers on the desk. They sent him off. The officer rambled back and forth between English and angry patois. (I think that was the local language.) Twenty minutes later, while I was still being processed, a very well dressed native Grenadian crew from that yacht returned to the officers. He carefully delivered a big envelope,offering apologies in island English and patois. The wrong was righted and off he went to his launch to the waiting yacht.

We encountered another drama when we checked out of Grenadian water at Hillsborough Caricaou. Though they open at 08:00, we knew better than to show up before ten. But after we cleared customs at 10:15, a frustrated French woman came in to report to the officers that she had been waiting for immigration to open for over two hours. That’s in a different building at a different location, of course. She told us that she lived on the island, and that because of Carnival, the immigration officer might decide to not show up until Wednesday. No one could reach her by phone. Anyway, Don and I enjoyed a papaya smoothie while looking out over the bay at our two boats, remarking how amazing it was to be here. When we passed customs, there she was, ready to stamp and hand-write forms.

One of the reasons that we were headed to Clifton Harbor on Union Island was to clear into the waters of St. Vincent and the Grenadines. Drop the Grenadian flag. Raise the “Q” flag (quarantine flag). Clear in. Raise the St. V. and Grenadines national flag. Clear out. Clear in. Clear out. Etc. Lots of flags. These locations nail down stops along the route and influence travel timing, where provisioning happens, and where time is wasted. There is a common currency in most of the Caribbean (the E.C. dollar), but there is no unification of customs and immigration. Maybe it’ll happen when the world supply of carbon paper is finally consumed.

The sailing has changed since southern Grenada. The anchorages in the Grenadines are exposed to the trades. So although reefs protect us from wave and swell, it seems to blow a constant 18 knots all night and morning, easing to about 15 knots during the day. Being in the constant wash of wind has a definite effect on sailors. It might be a more edgy awareness of sounds and motion, of the set of the anchor and the quality of the ground tackle, of weather and next-plans. It might be reminding us to stay tuned in.

Here in Union, we definitely see the appearance of growing mega yacht traffic. $million launches run by white shirt crews attend the obvious commanding owner or guest in the power seat. There are some huge-money haunts around here, like Mustique. Small islands are exclusive resorts. Europeans from the airport are dressed in fine white clothes and are followed by piles of ritzy luggage. Pleasure yacht density is definitely increased. It’s all good, interesting to see.

I finished my latest book, “Wherever You Go” by Joan Leegant. For the most part, it is beautifully written. Some of the passages are so gorgeous that I had to read them twice to make sure. It is a contemporary novel by (I think) a Boston area write (got a signed copy at New England Mobile Book Fair) about contemporary Jewish life in Israel, about settler extremism and secular self-doubt. It’s good read. Next I’m reading something on my Kindle Fire so that I don’t have to run the cabin light when I’m reading at night. Boat life permeates everything.

Pete made egg-in-the-hole for breakfast. I’m going ashore with Emily on a photograph hunt get a few provisions. After that we move ten miles or fewer to Tobago Keys or Mayreau... whichever seems best.

Carriacou

On Thursday morning we said good by to Jon G. and Betsy K. and raised anchor in Prickly Bay Grenada. Jon and Betsy had joined us almost a week earlier in St. Croix and had been great shipmates for that exciting passage. Further, never before has Heron had such fantastic meals. Jon and his brother Dan love to cook good food at home and on boats.  Jon cooked a few wow meals on a few Marion-to-Bermuda Races on Heron, but this week was over-the top. He showed up from the airport with entrees that he had partially prepared at home. We ate incredible crab cakes, chicken, turkey breasts, steak, and other meals that I can’t recall --all glutin free to cater to Emily's diet. We are still finding amazing stuff in the freezer.

So we started our return trip north. OK, so it was a mere 29 nm of the 600 left until we get back to St. John, but it was a start. We motor-sailed in light air up the west (leeward) coast, passing all the bays that we visited by taxi. Rain clouds sat over the mountainous island and occasionally we’d get a blast of wind. As Chip J., mentioned about his visit, you can get wind from opposite directions within a short distance when in the lee of these islands. The trades come over the tops, bend around the ends, and funnel down the valleys. So you read the water to see what’s coming.

To get to Tyrrel Bay, Carriacou, we had to cross the open passages north of Grenada. There is an exclusion zone around the active underwater volcano called Kick ‘Em Jenny, and we were trying to get to windward and up-current. So the cruise guide recommend beating east along the north coast before easing off to cross the passage. After seeing nasty conditions there on the way down from St. Croix, I was expecting double-reef conditions. Nope. The wind actually became lighter when we rounded the headland. I’m not complaining, but it reinforces what I’ve experienced so far –expect the unexpected.

Approaching The Sisters

We squeezed between “The Sisters” and Ronde Island, and hugged Diamond Rock before entering the second open passage to Carriacou. Frigate birds soared from the vertical cliffs and ocean swell crashed on the faces of these immense rocks. We sailed up into Tyrrel Bay and ate dinner on Freestyle -- fresh sushi and grilled skipjack tuna that they had caught only an hour earlier. You can’t get any fresher than that. I told you I was going to stick close to Don for some very good reasons!

The "boat boys" were great.  This was the first harbor where we encounter them.  "20 EC" is our standing joke.  Whatever you want.... 20 EC.  Ice, lobster, fish, limes, wine, bread.... Whatevuh you want mahn.  That is twenty Eastern Caribbean dollars, that exchange to 2.6 EC dollars per US dollar.  They take either dollar.
I counted boats from ten different countries within a short distance of us.  Most of the boats were from Europe.  A few were from Canada and the U.S..  It was very cool to see all the different styles--from a Brit single-handing a C&C29 to a Swedish family partying it up on their large Swan.  Only one boat out of a few dozen appeared to be a charter boat.

On Friday we took a taxi tour all over the small island. Carriacou is very different than Grenada. We were getting just a glimpse, but it seemed hotter, drier, less developed, more lazy, less tropical and less dramatic. There was less buzz and more people just seemed to be hanging out. The area called Windward was where they make traditional wooden sailing and motor craft on the beach. There was a power sander and a chain saw, but there was also an axe and an adze to fashion the beefy white oak ribs and keel. The fellow was working on his fifteenth hull (as I recall), building out the lines from five carefully measured ribs. He could finish the hull in as short as 1.5 months if gets the help of his buddies, working as a team. The process is the kernel of a very close seaside community and quite a lovely lifestyle.

The Carriacou car-nee-vahl was starting Friday night, and the steel band music from the beach went late into the night. It was ethereal to hear the surf on the reef and the wind-carried music under the star-filled night. The hatches stayed open all night –the very first night that we didn’t have a tropical downpour. But on Saturday morning, off we went. We checked out in Hillsborough and headed to Clifton Harbor, Union Island in the Grenadines. We were anxious to make tracks, so we opted not to stick around for the next event –the crowning of the island queen.

Grenada Update 2

We have been in Grenada for four days and are enchanted by the Spice Island. If we don’t leave tomorrow, you’ll have to send in the blackhawk helicopters to extract us from this spell. We’ve spent the last two days touring the island in van cabs and can’t begin to relate much of what we’ve heard and seen. It is rather overwhelming, so different, so beautiful, so friendly, so culturally rich, in such transition. 

“Rock”, our first cab driver and tour guide (473-459-1971 fyi), is a wonderful historian and teacher. For five hours as he drove us from one amazing place to another, he delivered a personal account of the island’s history of brutal conquest and bloody revolution. Wow. As I recount it here at the Tikii bar hotspot, the historical narrative in a nut(meg)shell goes something like this:

- peaceful Arawaks are conquered by warlike Caribs, hypothetically enslaving the women and eating the men and boys,

- French colonial rule after extermination of the Caribs, who chose a suicidal leap off of the northern end of the island over enslavement,

- African slave trade and sugar cane and spice plantation economy,

- unstable post-war economic disparity under British rule,

- independence in 1974 with fascist greed and repression under Gairy (complete with rigged elections, power-control patronage, police and paramilitary brutality, executions and disappearances and the flow of money to Swiss bank accounts), to

- the 1979 coup by the socialist New Jewel Movement under Maurice Bishop that instituted significant reform in labor and land ownership, to

- the 1983 coup by his communist Deputy Prime Minster Bernard Coard, the proximal support of Cuban and Soviet military, that executed Maurice Bishop and his cabinet and a slaughter of something like sixty of the 10,000 supporters by the military in (Soviet-made) armored vehicles, to

- a social democracy that seems to be stable and supported by the people, but that also seems to frustrate them with lack of “doing more” to improve things.

The bloody political events of the past twenty years seem to have generated a very positive community outlook. There is a vibrant expression of national pride and unity, of social and economic progress, and of hope. The three Rastafarian colors of gold, green and red are the colors of the Ethiopian flag and are also those of the Grenadian flag. They are pervasive in the form of fluttering pennants on houses, schools, churches, clothing, head scarves, clothing, sandals and sign posts. Depending on what you read, they symbolize bloodshed for liberation and social justice (red), wealth (gold), and beauty (green). If my memory serves me, Rock said that here they stood for justice, love and hope. Our second driver, “Crabby” Arnold Charles (473-414-4832) and our guide “Arthur” mimicked the same sentiments about a progress that departed from the kind of power and greed of the past.

From conversations and from signs posted on buildings, Grenadians are thankful to the US for the 1984 intervention by the forces of the U.S., Jamaica and the Eastern Caribbean states.  It's complicated, though.  I heard on more than one occasion that when the NJM ousted Gairy, Fidel’s Cuba stepped in with help when the US didn't, and built a much-needed airport. But then bad things began to happen and the rest is history. USAID appears on tarps and building materials that I’m guessing remains from US contributions after Hurricane Ivan that devastated the island in 2004. There are relatively few tourists on this island (as compared to the Virgin Islands) and most of them seem to be from Europe, mostly from the UK. We’ve met few Americans, mostly boaters or past-boaters. Arthur reported that as many Grenadians are living in the U.S. as are living on the island.

We visited two nutmeg processing facilities,that were operating they have done so for two hundred years. It was a photographer’s heaven with amazing light and visual textures. Emily and I took many pictures. The smells were amazing. We brought some of those with us as samples for Mindy back home.

We visited the Grand Etang rain forest, and the next day we hiked to the Seven Sisters waterfall. We expected brontosaurus heads to appear above the lush tropical growth. Mountain streams flowed down ravines and brilliantly colored flowers and fruits were everywhere. It is supposedly still recovering from Ivan, but I had never seen anything even close to this. More on this later.

Off to Cariacou tomorrow if the northerly swell subsides, as forecast.

Grenada

After departing Christianstead St. Croix on Thursday morning, we arrived at St. Georges Grenada on Saturday morning.  It was a fast passage, completing the 385nm rhumb line distance from the E. end of St. Croix in 49 hours.  We were under single reef main and #4 (85%) jib most of the way, then went to double reef and half of a #4 as the wind picked up to 24-25 kn True range.  Apparent wind angle ranged from 38 to 55 degrees, with 43 degrees AWA most of the trip. Adjustments were for the purpose of speed control in the choppy seas.  When they were spaced apart, we cranked up to over 9 knots; when the ride got rough, we throttled back to 7s and 8s.

We were somewhat surprised to see no dolphins or turtles, few birds, and very few other boats.  We saw one sailboat, a few ships, and that's it.  It was surprising like the trip from Hampton to the USVI.  Don on Freestyle was never more than 4nm away.  When we were ahead, we throttled back.  When we were behind, we trimmed up.  It was easy to stay together.

The full moon on Tuesday lit up the ocean a few hours after sunset.  It was spectacular to see all the stars in the sky until the moon came up, then to be able to see the ocean crests rolling by.

The strongest weather was the final 8 hours on approach to Grenada.  It was howling up to 30 kn true on gusts, but with the partially rolled #4 jib and double reefed main, we just glided along at 8-9.8 kn SOG, occasionally taking spray over the entire boat.  It was a salt cake when we arrived at St. Georges.  It's no fun going off watch with wet salty hair and dropping into your bunk.  Even after just two days, we were happy to get there.

After a loop through the inner harbor to check things out, we motored for an hour around the SE point of the island into Prickly Bay, where we are now.  Nice.  Very very nice.

Jon served up leftovers --homeade crab cakes and salad that he had prepared in Boston.   They were probably the best crab cakes we've ever tasted.  Jon is an awesom cook, and loves to prepare food in any conditions.  Wow.  I'm the opposite, happy to have a peanut butter spoon for a meal.

Everyone pulled their weight.  We had no passengers aboard.  Even Emily, who is a challenge to awaken on a normal school day, rose on time to stand her watch --4 on, 6 off, rotating through the day and night.  It's tough to show up for a watch at 0200.

Safe and sound.  400nm out of the 1000nm of this cruise completed.  Checked in to customs.  This is the farthest and most southerly (just below 12 degrees N lattitude) extent of our trip.  After Prickly Bay, we are now headed home to Marion.... after a few months in-between.  Let the adventure continue.  Jay

Hi from StX

Greetings from Christianstead Harbor, St. Croix. This is a narrowband connection, so no pics. All is excellent.

On Sunday, the Heron crew (Emily, Pete and Jay (me)) flew into StT along with the Freestyle crew (Don and his gang Ed and Hank). We weren’t so thrilled to be stuck in Philly for 2.5 hours while US Air found a plane that could fly, but we made it just in time to hit the Westin beach buffet and wide screen superbowl party. With our toes in the sand and palm trees all around, we watched one of the most exciting superbowl games I’ve ever seen –right down to the hail Mary pass. The Pats lost, but it was a great season. The NY Giants fans were, shall we say, over the top. But that made it fun too!

On Monday we had one of the nicest ocean sails I can recall. We made the 34nm crossing from St. John to St. Croix in E15, 055 AWA in exactly four hours, under single reef and #3 working jib (average SOG 8.5kn), Occasional rain showers drifted down on us, usually carrying a wind shift and a few more knots of wind. Flying fish leaped out of the waves as the bow surged in the swell. Bright sun on blue-green water with mountainous green islands in the distance, shrinking off the stern and growing off the bow. The autopilot did the steering. Pete and I tweaked the sails while Emily (16) slept off her end-of-semester exhaustion. Freestyle was right behind us. We dropped the hook in Gallows Bay, then changed our minds and picked up the tee head at St. Croix Marina so we could top off tanks and provision without needing the dinghy. (I hate dinghies.) My in-laws of 30 years, Sam and Shirley picked us up and took us to their condo for dinner and great conversation, overlooking an ocean sparkling with the light of the full moon. Ahhh. Are we having fun yet? Oh ya.

Tuesday we provisioned and did boat chores in preparation for the 400nm trip from here to Grenada, scheduled to depart Thursday morning. To give you an idea, boat life is full of chores, just like at home, but more so. It’s hot here at mid-day, so you do chores in the morning and in the evening. We changed the oil in the genset and the engine, filled water and fuel tanks, organized and stored gear, got the wifi booster going, downloaded the weather grib fils, checked out the ocean buoy along the route: http://www.ndbc.noaa.gov/station_page.php?station=42060

checked into the Carib Maritime Mobile Net (7250 kHz at 0700 AST, changed jibs to the #4 (better for 15-20 kn close to the wind—our next leg), provisioned $700 worth of food and drink, etc., etc. I was hoping to do nothing. I’ll have to wait.

We went to lunch with Sam at the Golden Rail Marina Café, a wonderful but out-of-the-way place that the locals love. Sam is one-in-a-million. He has been a professional musician and entertainer all of his life. He will strike up a conversation with anyone at any time, and it will often lead to a change in the space-time continuum. I’m not kidding. So it went this day. As we stepped into this marina open-air restaurant, he was well into a conversation with two couples when lightning struck. It was Henry and Judy Paap, who live a few miles from me in Wellesley, and who are recent BYC members with a boat in Marion harbor! You’ve got to be kidding me. 2000 nm under the keel and here we are having lunch in the same place as the same time as folks from home. Again on Wednesday, we ran into them at Whim Great House, a historical sugar plantation on St. Croix. I’m telling you, Sam makes these connections all the time. It’s just weird.

Wednesday, today, we rented a cab for five hours and the six of us went touring. The Cruzan Rum factory was an amazing place, as was the Whim Great House. I’ll post pictures when we get broadband. We bought more food and did more to prepare for the 400nm leg to Grenada, and welcomed Betsy K. and Jon G. aboard for the next week. We now have five aboard, and are ready to leave tomorrow at 0800 for Grenada with Freestyle and the three aboard. As we did on the trip down, we will use AIS to stay within a few miles of each other for the next seven weeks –about 1000 nm. The forecast is great. Here we go.

February-March Cruise Itinerary

Seventy-two hours from now the crews of Heron and Freestyle will arrive at the pool-side widescreen TV at the Westin Hotel in Great Cruz Bay StJ, to cheer on the New England Patriots as they battle the New York Giants for the Superbowl. Win or lose, when the sun comes up on Monday February 6th, we'll drop our mooring lines and head S to St. Croix --the first hop in our cruise to Grenada and back --  seven weeks, at least 17 islands and 1014 nautical miles. So begins Jay and Emily’s Excellent Adventure. 

My daughter Emily (16) will be an active member of the crew for the entire trip (sound of whip lashes in the background).  She is taking an independent mod (a 6-week semester) from her high school, the Cambridge School of Weston, studying Caribbean literature, the history of slavery in the Caribbean, and digital photography.  Thanks to her wonderful teachers and administrators for actually encouraging such a life-widening experience!  Thanks to Mindy and Julia (12) for holding the home fort.

We will be accompanied for various parts of the trip by friends Peter B., Betsy K., Jon G., Jim R. and his wife Sharon, and by my sister Marie and friend Dave, her son Adam, and my son Ben and his friend Nina.  We will sail in the company of Freestyle, with Don C. and his crew catching fresh fish, smoking fine cigars and generally holding our feet to the fire.  We are bubbling with anticipation!!

Screen Shot of the Route

Summary of Feb-March Cruise of the Lesser Antilles:
Week 1: St. John to Grenada via St. Croix.
· Feb 6: Sail to St. Croix, Christianstead Harbor. 35nm, 174M.
· Feb 9-11: Sail to Prickly Bay, Grenada. 393nm, 169M.

Weeks 2-3: Southern Windwards:

· Feb 15: Sail to Carriacou, Grenadines, Tyrrel Bay. 39nm.
· Feb 17: Sail to Union, Clifton Harbor. 11nm.
· Feb 18: Sail to Mayreau, Saline Bay. 4nm.
· Feb 19: Sail to Tobago Cays. 4nm.
· Feb 20: Sail to Bequia, Admiralty Bay. 26nm.
· Feb 24: Take a ferry over to St. Vincent for the day.

Week 4-5:  Northern Windwards, Eastern Leewards

· Feb 25: Sail to Martinique, St.Ann/Marin. 93nm. (Or 55nm to Soufriere St. Lucia.)
· Feb 28: Sail to Dominica, Prince Rupert Bay. 87nm. (Or 64nm to Soufriere Dominica)
· March 3: Sail to Les Saintes, Bourg des Saints. 22nm.
· March 4: Sail to Pigeon Island Anchorage, Guadaloupe. 24nm.
· March 6: Sail to Deschaies, Guadaloupe. 9nm.

Week 6: Western Leewards

· March 7: Sail to Antigua, English Harbor. 43nm.
· March 10: Sail to St. Barts, Gustavia. 85nm.
· March 11: Sail to St. Martin, Simpson Bay. 18nm.

Week 7: Cruise British and US Virgin Islands

· March 15: Sail to Tortola, Road Town. 91nm.
· March 17-24: Sail BVIs and St. John

The above schedule is a prototype. Actual mileage will vary as we experience whimsy, weather, wanderlust, etc. I'll try to keep the blog going. Track us if you wish using the link in the right-hand column of this page. Stand by to stand by. We're goin' in!