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.