February 28, 2007 - Canouan to Union Island to Grenada

We all got up before dawn to get Eryn and Graham off to the airport. While making breakfast, Sten came across a bad egg. We buy fresh, not refrigerated eggs, and store them in a cool place, but not in the refrigerator. If we turn them once a week or so, they keep for weeks. We have only had a few go bad storing them this way. Unfortunately, this morning Sten hit the jackpot and got two bad eggs, one of which was bloody and green. It was enough to make him TUIHMALB. Nasty.

After that lovely start to the day, I accompanied Eryn and Graham to the airport, to see if I could clear us out of SVG in Canouan. They had arranged for their taxi through the Moorings, and the driver had the audacity to charge them 20EC per person. A week before I'd paid 10 EC to go pick them up, and gave the driver 20 EC to bring all 3 of us back to the Moorings dock. When I tried to negotiate the fee with the Moorings driver, he wasn't interested, so I sent him on his way and figured that I could find another taxi to take me back to the dock.

At this point it was 6am. I asked one of the baggage guys if the customs folks were there yet. He informed me that they wouldn't arrive until 8:30 or 9.

Not really feeling like waiting around with the risk that they wouldn't be able to clear a yacht out, I looked for another driver. Eventually, I noticed a guy dropping off a rather well dressed woman. He was driving the same kind of van as the taxi drivers. So I approached him about taking me back to the dock. He nodded, but kept his attention focused on his passenger, and walked her to the check in counter. As he stood there with his arm around her as she checked in, it started to dawn on me that he wasn't a taxi driver.

A few minutes later the not-a-taxi-driver waived me over to come along. I quickly said goodbye to Graham and Eryn and headed to the not-a-cab. On the way, I explained why I had assumed he was a taxi driver and apologized. He wasn't at all fussed about it, and told me to climb in.

As I climbed into the front seat (because it seemed rude get in the back), and buckled my seatbelt his wife came to my window.

"I turn around to say goodbye, only to discover that he's already replaced me with a younger model," she laughingly said.

"Don't worry, he's taking me straight back to my husband," I responded.

She made her way around to his door to give him another hug and a kiss before heading back into the hanger. During the ride back to the dock, he told me about their business, running a hotel on the island, and their family living in the states. Their son is a doctor and one of their daughters is a nurse practitioner. At the end of the ride, he wouldn't let me pay him.

[UPDATE: Eryn sent the following update:

"[W]e rode to San Juan with the wife you "replaced" and she had a great sense of humor about
the whole thing on the flight to St. Lucia. But on the flight from St. Lucia to San Juan her doubts got the best of her and I seriously had to reassure her that you were in fact married and would be leaving Canouan with your husband that very day.

Poor woman! It's a good thing I didn't tell her how you can charm the fish out of fishermen"

Sten picked me up at the dock, and we quickly raised anchor and headed for Union Island. After a lightning quick stop at Union, over a baguette lunch, we decided that we could make it to the southern tip of Grenada before sunset.

We had the most amazing day sail of our trip. The only transit that was close, was the trip almost two months ago from Antigua to Guadeloupe. The wind was perfect, the boat balanced, and we flew.

At one point, in the flat water in the shadow of Grenada, we hit 9.2 knots. This is a record for Mata'irea, if we don't include the times we've gone faster when surfing downwind or when assisted by current. Sten claims that the whole boat hunkered down a few inches as she hit her groove.

I was just happy to be on the boat again with nobody else but Sten. We've enjoyed having company this past month. Indeed, before Suzy showed up we were both desperate for someone to talk to other than each other. But now that we've had guests aboard for the the past few weeks, we can really appreciate being alone together again.

We arrived at St. George's just around sunset. We briefly nosed around the harbor to look for a spot to anchor, but it was too crowded for us, so we headed back outside to anchor off of the headland protecting the harbor. In the morning we'll go clear in.

February 27, 2007 - Tobago Cays to Canouan

We had one of those awful days that we seem to have every few weeks.

After a wee bit too much rum last night, I was down for the count this morning. Sten was in a hurry to leave the Cays before the park rangers came around to collect another fee. I told him that was fine, but he would have to do it with out me. With Graham and Eryn's help, he got the boat in passage shape and raised the anchor. I joined them on deck as we headed north out of the Cays.

As we unfurled the jib, Sten realized that that spinnaker halyard was still attached to the base of one of the stantions. He went forward to unclip it. Enroute, his hat started to blow off. Reaching to save the $15 hat, he knocked a $200 pair of Maui Jims into the water. Bugger all.

After retching over the leeward rail, I decided to spend the rest of the trip in my bunk. We anchored just north of the main harbor in Canouan, with the intent of spending the day snorkling. However, we couldn't get decent holding. After dragging twice we headed back to the main harbor.

After a week aboard with very few trips to shore, Graham and Eryn were ready to explore an island. They headed ashore to wander around a bit. After evening showers, we were all ready to head in and get some dinner a local place. Dinner started out well - Eryn's conch soup was fantastic, but it was all down hill from there.

February 26, 2007 - Tobago Cays

Would you like to play a game? Nope, this isn't an 80's movie about the arms race. Let's see if you can spot the octopus in the picture below.



How about now?


And now? [right about now this should be starting to feel like your annual eye exam]


Octopus - master of disguise and just about the coolest creature ever.


In case you think they are creepy, I offer the following soothing picture for your enjoyment. However, while you are wallowing in the peaceful serenity of the water's surface, just remember what is lurking below.

February 25, 2007 - Petit St. Vincent to Tobago Cays via World's End Reef

We left the main anchorage in Petit St. Vincent fairly early and went over to Mopion, a small sand island with nothing on it but a hut.


The wind was cranking, and the water was choppy. I couldn't read the bottom. It felt like we were dragging, so I dove in to take a look. We had mistakenly anchored on rough broken coral. We decided it wasn't any good and decided to head over to Petit Tabac, a small island between the Tobago Cays and World's End reef.

Once again, we motor sailed with jib only as we are loath to take off the main cover. Thanks to our parts mules, um, I mean Graham and Eryn, we do have three new double handled winch handles so that is no longer an excuse for not raising the mainsail, but the thought of wrestling with the mainsail cover provides us with enough of a deterent for short day hops. Looking at all the charter boats with their full mains up, Graham and Eryn have realized that we are the laziest sailors around.

When we arrived at Petit Tabac, we found that there were already three boats anchored in a really tight space. They were bucking around and really hanking on their chains in a very small space so Sten decided that was a no go. We motored out of the little "harbor" and had a look at the lee side of the island as an anchorage, but it was still too rough.

World's End Reef was only a mile or so to windward so we decided to check it out. Sten and I debated the regs on anchoring there as I had read somewhere that it was not allowed. We couldn't find anything about it in the Tobago Keys pamphlet distributed by the park service, so we decided to give it a try.

Conditions for eyeball navigation were ideal and we eased our way up to the reefs skirting shoals and trying not to be distracted by the fantastic colors around us.


It was pretty choppy but we eased Mata'irea up to a 10' shoal, dropped anchor and eased her back into deeper water.

I hopped in with snorkel gear to check the anchor. There was substantial current sweeping downwind away from the reef. Even with fins, I could barely make enough headway to get up to the anchor. If we were going to snorkel here, it would have to be a drift dive with one of us in the dink at all times.

We lowered the dinghy and loaded up gear and personnel. We motored up wind and current to a decent section of reef. The water was spectacularly clear, but unfortunately the coral showed a lot of signs of storm damage, and there were no good sized fish to be seen.

The best part of the trip was the feeling that we had managed to get off the beaten track, if only marginally, but enough so to enable us be all alone in a spectacular location, if only for a few hours.


After our snorkeling trip, we motored into the Cays and anchored on the righthand side of the anchorage, just about where we were two weeks ago with Suzy, but this time further up with only three feet of water under the keel. At night, with the light of the moon reflecting off of the seabed and refracting through the shallow water, it seemed like we were floating on a pale green cloud.

February 24, 2007 - Mayreau, Union Island, Petit St. Vincent and Petite Martinique

We are tragically low on fresh veggies. More importantly, we don't have any bananas aboard, which means:

a) no banana pancakes, Sten's breakfast specialty, and
b) no BBC's, the most delicious drink ever.

Graham has been stalwartly trying to keep up the crew's spirits with round after round of painkillers, but we've reached our breaking point. It is off to Union Island, the "commercial center" of the Grenadines. After our aborted attempt to anchor in Clifton Harbor almost two weeks ago, we have been dreading this stop. But the crew is threatening to mutiny if they don't get a baguette soon.

We found a decent spot to drop anchor, but Sten wasn't really comfortable with our position relative to the boats near us, so he stayed aboard as Graham, Eryn and I went ashore. We quickly hit all the grocery stores in town and the produce market. Two hours later, we were loaded down with fruit, veggies, bread and rum, and Eryn had had quite enough marketing and was ready to get back to the boat. By the time we got back to the dock, it is raining on us. Our dinghy was buried three deep in a pile up of dinghies, wedged between a fishing boat and a catamaran. While I got us free, I asked Graham and Eryn to haul the trash to the dumpster. As you can see, aboard Mata'irea, we like to introduce our guests to all the pleasures of the Caribbean, including long, hot provisioning trips in the heat of the day, interspersed with scenic dumpster runs, punctuated by scattered showers.

When we got back to the boat we found Mata'irea surrounded by 3 sport fishing boats from Barbados. Sten had seen them taking 3 or 4 big mahi mahi from one boat to the other, and thought we should try to buy some from them. I asked Sten to come with me, but he pointed out that I might have more luck on my own. Knowing that these guys has been offshore for a few days with nothing but each other to look at I figured that Sten was probably right.

I went over to chat with the guys on the boat next to us, and they said "We'd be happy to give you some fish."

"I'd gladly pay for fresh fish," I replied.

"Nah, we'll give it to you, but first you have to go . . . " over the noise of the outboard, I couldn't quite catch what he was saying, but I got the gist of it.

So, having guests to feed and very little pride when fresh mahi is at stake, I drove over to the sport fishing boat astern of us, and proceeded to flirt outrageously with the defacto leader of their fishing party. He explained that they can't sell me any fish, because the local boat boys would be upset with them. I said that I understood, and headed back to Mata'irea, feeling a bit dejected. On my way back I told the guy on the first boat what had happened. He said, "Don't worry about it, I'll get you some fish." So I went down below to get something to eat, and help stow the provisions we bought.

Down below I found Graham and Eryn in early stages of heat stroke, and a grumpy Sten. We quickly got the boat back in condition to head down to PSV and Petite Martinique, where we planned to spend the night. As I climbed back on deck, the guy from the first fishing boat called over and told me to head over to the other boat. I quickly got in the dinghy and headed over to the fishing boat astern of us.

When I got there, they passed down a big ziplock bag full of beautifully filleted fish. I chatted with the guys for a while, as would only be polite after receiving 5 pounds of free mahi. We talked about what we'd been catching, and throwing back. They assured me that all the barracuda south of Dominica was fine to eat. One of them even offered to make me a barracuda dish "that would make you leave your husband."

With that, we were off. Once again, we motor sailed down to PSV. After we dropped anchor, Sten and Graham went snorkeling, while Eryn and I enjoyed a quiet chat aboard.

We were low on ice, so Sten, wearing only his swim trunks, went over to Petite Martinique to pick up ice and a few beers. A few months in the Caribe has made us much more relaxed about appearances.

Graham is the only person I've met who gets as lost in books as I do. Eryn will be speaking to him, and it takes him a while to realize that someone is talking. I do this all the time to Sten, much to his frustration.

After dinner, Eryn did the dishes, and she and Graham taught us how to play a very cool game called Settlers. We're really enjoying having them aboard. Not only do we get to exploit them as parts mules and unpaid labor, they entertain us as well. All of the sudden, a week starts to feel like a very short visit.

February 23, 2007 - Mayreau

We began the day with a quick fishing trip for Sten in the dinghy and a snorkeling trip for me. Before we headed out, the tender from the megayacht anchored behind us stopped by to ask when we were going to be leaving. They were setting up an array of tables, chairs and water sports equipment on the beach for their guests, and wanted to move the yacht a bit closer in. We told them that we planned to leave around noon.

As Sten and I were climbing into our dinghy, we noticed that the boats in front of us had upped anchor - ah, the power of suggestion. We left Graham and Eryn with instructions that if the tender came by while we were gone, to tell him that we would gladly move in exchange for two bottles of bubbly and a bag of ice. We won't be bullied, but we can be bought.

You can imagine the megayacht crew's frustration when this guy pulled into the harbor and disgorged its boatload full of tourists into the midst of the tropical oasis that the megayacht crew had set up for their guests.


This was our signal to move on down the road. So we motored around to the east side of Mayreau, and tucked inside a reef looking out towards the Tobago Cays. The water is as shallow as the Cays, and there is nice protection from the reef, but we are the only boat anchored here. This is actually a first for us - we've never been by ourselves in an anchorage before.

One really neat thing about this place - Starfish! We haven't seen starfish since Anguilla. And there certainly aren't any (that we have seen) in the Cays. But they are scattered across the seabed here like sprinkles on an ice cream cone.


It doesn't go with the narrative, but do I really need an excuse to include a picture of my sexy husband? You should just be thankful that it isn't another picture of the cat.

February 22, 2007 - Canouan to Mayreau

After two rolly nights in a row in this anchorage, we were in a hurry to get out of dodge. Sten went to fire up the generator to charge the batteries, but got nothing. Do we stay and work on it, or deal with it later? We decided to head south to Mayreau, and deal with it once we were anchored there.

We had a beautiful sail south.

Graham steered for a while. It didn't take long for Eryn to figure out that if you aren't steering, this sailing stuff can be pretty boring.


After passing an exceptionally crowded anchorage in Salt Whistle Bay, we headed off to Catholic Island and the rocks nearby to see if it would be reasonable to anchor there for a lunchtime snorkel.
Taking a look at the waves breaking against the rocks, we realized that it wouldn't be a good idea, and headed into Saline Bay (as pretty as Salt Whistle, 8 times the size and a quarter of the boats) for the afternoon and evening.

Lunch was to be humus and tabouli, and without a generator to run the Cuisinart (it draws too much to run off of the inverter), we would have to make it by hand. Graham and Eryn squeezed lemons and mashed chic peas while I messed with the tabouli and tahini.

During our sail, lunch, and an afternoon snorkel trip, Sten had been thinking about the generator's failure to start. Late in the afternoon, he jiggled a few wires and lo and behold it started. What a relief.

We bought a tuna for dinner from one of the boat boys. Sten negotiated with them and finally got to a good price when he offered to fillet it himself. We wound up with enough tuna for two dinners for four people. Not bad for $30. Lenore had a field day with the scraps, eating a good portion of her body weight.

February 21, 2007 - Canouan

Back in the heart of charter boat territory, we had another incident with bad anchoring. After dark last night a catamaran came nosing into the anchorage, looking for a place to drop anchor. As he slid up between us and a boat quite near to us, Sten and I are both looking at him like, "Oh no you don't." Unfortunately, the evil eye is a bit hard to cast in the dark. Not feeling very good about it, we went to bed, but neither of us slept very well.

In the morning, the wind died completely, allowing the boats at anchor to swing around haphazardly. We took turns keeping an eye on the cat, as its stern came within 10 feet of ours. Because we anchored before them, they should be the ones to move if there is a problem - that's the internationally understood etiquette in these situations. But try explaining that to a French charterer.

I stood in our cockpit, getting rained on, and stared them down. My expression was sour enough to curdle the cream in the cups of cafe au lait that they were sipping. But it had no effect. I was tempted to let them hit us, and let their charter company pay for some gel coat work that we could really use, but Sten counseled that the paperwork would not be worth it. Besides, we'd had enough trouble with the authorities here in SVG. Eventually, when they got too close I turned on our engine and let us slowly idle forward. But I wasn't happy about it.

As the morning wore on and the sun came out, Sten did amazing work cleaning the deck. The entire area round the windlass was stained with rust from hauling in the anchor chain. A dose of On & Off took care of it. It also removed most of Sten's fingerprints, which should come in handy if the house doesn't sell and we need to resort to a life of crime to pay for this trip.

Before On & Off:



After:

We finished making beds, cleaning heads and mopping the floor in time to get into town to do some quick and dirty provisioning before Eryn and Graham's plane landed. For a charter base, the fresh food supply was pretty dismal. That one cabbage and two carrots are that I look so happy to be holding in the photo below were the extent of the fresh veggies we bought.


I went to meet them at the airport, only to find that their plane had been early. When does that happen? Anyway, we headed back to boat and had Belated Christmas, Part II, featuring double handled winch handles, coozies for our nalgene bottles, beer bottles and soda cans, my rabbit (the corkscrew variety - get your heads out of the gutter) and a printer from Suzy.

After cleaning the boat all day, Sten and I were anxious to be off of it, so we all headed ashore to have dinner at the resort. The bar food was pretty good, if a bit salty, and the rum drinks poured with a stiff hand.

I fell asleep listening to Graham and Sten talk about the sorts of technical stuff that makes my eyes glaze over when Sten is trying to explain it to me. I'm so glad he has someone to geek out with for a few days.

February 20, 2007 - Bequia to Canouan

The sail from Bequia to Canouan was completely uneventful. However, our neighbors in this harbor are interesting. Canouan is the most convenient place for charter guests to fly in and out of for a week in the lower Grenadines. The harbor is filled with Moorings charter boats, as this is their base. Then there are the big boys. Cuau, this is for you:

Her name is Surama. She is 131 feet long, designed by Ted Hood and built by Royal Huissman. For approximately $14M, she can be yours.

February 19, 2007 - Bequia

The hatch is repaired and reinstalled. Like my splices - ugly but effective.

I've taken the opportunity of having a good internet connection to transfer our journals to Blogger. A typical day at the office:


Between doing lots of laundry and cleaning the boat in anticipation of Graham and Eryn's arrival, Sten hauled me up the mast again to check for wear on the running rigging and the conditions of the bolts. Our spinnaker halyard was also run backwards, so I switched that around while I was was up there.

February 17, 2007 - Bequia

After our run-ins with the authorities the past few days, I really wanted to get out of Bequia, but we were stuck - we can't go anywhere without our hatch (going sailing with a big hole on your deck is what we like to call a BAD idea - and we know from BAD ideas; remember, we're the folks who made the Newport to Bermuda run our shakedown sail after a year on the hard). Late afternoon, Sten got it back from Fixman.

While Sten worked on installing the hatch, I spliced lines for our preventer. Splicing line is like renovating a house. There is a stage in the operation where it seems like all you've done is make a big mess, you're afraid to take the next step for fear of making it worse, but you're too far into it to undo it. So, you take that tiny leap of faith and take the final step, and voila! You've got a new kitchen or a pretty little splice. Okay, so when Sten spliced our dinghy anchor rode it was a pretty little splice. Mine are more aptly described as ugly but effective.

As Sten installed the hatch, the freshly welded crack cracked open again. So we had to decide whether to finish the installation and go with it as is, or miss Carnival and stay in Bequia until Monday to get it properly repaired. The hatch isn't currently leaking, but it is a weak point, on a part of the boat that takes a lot of water when we are in big seas. And who knows when we're going to come across another aluminum welder. So, we stayed, but I was totally bummed.

February 16, 2007 - Bequia (Send money, guns and lawyers)

At the crack of dawn we were up and, taking advantage of the high tide, picking our way out of the cut at Blue Lagoon. We had a very quick sail over from Blue Lagoon to Bequia. I had a 9 am appointment to meet with the sailmaker so that he could come out and do measurements and patterning for our canvas work, but first I wanted to stop by the customs broker to make sure he had my materials. In the meantime, Sten was working on removing our forward hatch so that he could take it to Fixman.

When I walked into RMS, the broker was at his desk. I asked about the status, and he said that the paperwork was with customs, but they are a bit backed up. We might not get our stuff until Monday. I said that was impossible, I had to be in Canouan at the beginning of the week. He revised his story and said that we might have it by late today. Frustrated with the whole thing, knowing that we are running out of time to have the work done before picking up Graham and Eryn on Wednesday, and not relishing a beat back up to Bequia after they leave, I made my way over to Alick's shop.

I told Alick's wife Selma, who runs the business side of their shop, what the situation was, and she told me to go to customs and tell that that I have to leave so I need my materials. Thinking, "She's right. I shouldn't just let these delays play out, I should get in front of this thing," I headed back to the customs building.

I explained to the customs agent that, at their recommendation, I had engaged a customs broker a few days ago to help me with the paperwork for some materials that they were holding. The broker told me that the paperwork is now on their desk but that there is some delay, and I was wondering if there was anything I could do to speed things up. The agent is looking at me like I have three heads, and probably trying to figure out if I'm trying to bribe him.

He wanders back to his desk, takes a look through the paperwork on it, rifles through some drawers, and, finding nothing, asks his colleagues some questions. A minute later, I notice that one of the agents is off to the side of the room on his cell phone. A few minutes later, the broker comes in, with a packet of paperwork in his hands. Now, it could be for another boat, but I'm thinking not. He won't meet my eye. And when I ask him directly if that is my paperwork, he won't answer me.

After he leaves, the customs agent turns to me and, with a straight face, says, "Your paperwork has arrived."

"I noticed."

"It will take us some time to review the documentation."

"When should I return?"

"Come back at 1 o'clock."

"What is your name?"

"Hutchins."

"Okay, Hutchins. I'm done with the customs broker. I will come directly to you and deal with you from now on. Okay?"

"Okay."

In the meantime, Sten has struggled mightily with the hatch cover. The machined screw that holds the hinge together was seized. He eventually got it out, and over to Mr. Fixman.

Over lunch we discussed the situation with customs. At this point, we had three business days, including a half day on Saturday, before we needed to make tracks for Canouan. Even if we got the materials later today, there wasn't much time left for Alick to do the work.

We had wanted to go to a Carnival while in the Caribbean, and there happened to be one on Carriacou, just a few islands south of Canouan, from Sunday to Tuesday. If we couldn't get the shade and rain awnings done in Bequia, we could take the materials south with us, and see about having them done somewhere down the chain.

Returning to customs, once again I was asked to report to the back room. Agent Hutchins interrogated me about each of the items in our shipment, as well as our relationship with Alick. When I explained that the palm was used for sail repair, and that I would be the one doing the repair work, his incredulous look told me all I needed to know about how much he believed me.

In the end, he let me go with my materials, without paying any duty, but with a stern warning that if he discovered that any of the materials are used for canvas work by a shop in Bequia, I would be facing a $1500 fine. The last bit didn't seem fair to me, but I didn't feel like I was in any position to argue.

I hightailed it out of there, feeling very lucky to have gotten away so lightly, and cheaply. I found Sten and he helped me bring the materials back to the boat. We decided that, even if we had the time to get the work done, it wasn't worth the risk. It is a shame that the local sailmaker lost business because the US based supplier messed up an invoice.

February 15, 2007 - Blue Lagoon, St. Vincent

We had a bit of trauma this morning as we tried to fly Lenore home today with Sten's mom. At the last minute we were warned by the local charter boat company managers not to take her to the airport. The customs folks would apparently rather kill a pet than let you take it out of the country. A few years ago they shot a dog on the tarmac, claiming that the didn't have quarantine facilities for it.

Nothing from my experience clearing us into the country a few weeks ago would have lead me to believe that there could be a problem flying her out of SVG. I marked on the customs forms that we had a cat on board, and offered to show them her papers, but they had no interest. My mistake was not telling them then that we would be flying her out in a few weeks time and asking whether that would be a problem.

"I could have killed my cat. Again. Christ," I think as I called customs and explained the situation. They said it *should* be no problem to fly her out, but call the animal authority to confirm. We were running out of time for Sten's mom to make her flight, so we all piled in the taxi and headed to the airport. I finally got through to the vets as we pulled into the airport. I didn't want them to know we had her on land, so I told them that we were still on the boat. They told us that under no uncertain terms could a cat from the US enter the country to fly out. So we dropped Suzy at the airport and hightailed it back to the boat before anyone at the airport figured out that we had a cat in the taxi.

Chances are, if we hadn't made an issue of it, we may have been able to fly Lenore out of SVG. But it just wasn't worth the risk of harm to her to take that chance. We're bummed that we didn't get her back to the states safely, but we both feel like we've been given a reprieve and the chance to spend some more time with her while we figure out how to get her home before the Pacific crossing. We're going to look into flying her home from Aruba (it is on our route towards Panama), or if that doesn't look promising, to head back up to the USVI to bring her home from there.


After lunch I called the customs broker in Bequia to see how he was progressing with getting our materials released. He assured me that they would be there in the morning. Afterwards, we headed back to shore, and went in search of silicone to rebed the hatch with once it is repaired, and off to pick up our alternators.

We took the bus up into the hills to Verrol's, and back down again. This time, including several small school kids, there were 22 people on board a van that can probably safely hold 10. Half of us had packages in our laps. Sten was holding one of our big canvas shopping bags with both rebuilt alternators and 3 dozen fresh eggs, which didn't leave him a free hand to hold onto anything as we careened down the windy road from the hills.

February 14, 2007 - Bequia to Blue Lagoon, St. Vincent

Sten and I spent the morning running around Bequia, while Suzy enjoyed her last day aboard. We started out by tracking down the materials that we'd ordered for our canvas work. The FedEx agent gave me a package of paperwork that came out of our shipment from Bainbridge. Despite the fact that I had given them Suzy's cell phone as a contact, they had listed Alick's sail loft as the contact, as well as the delivery point. More of a problem, the invoice stated that Alick was to be billed for the material, despite the fact that they had billed my credit card directly. So when customs looks at the paperwork, it will look to them like I'm trying to smuggle in materials to SVG and help Alick avoid paying duty on them. Fuck.

After clarifying with the FedEx agent that customs did have copies of this invoice - so there was no point in trying to get a new one from Bainbridge. So I went to customs to try to get my stuff out of hock. The agent asked me to come around to the back door. Uh, oh. Here comes the interrogation. Nope, he just wanted me to get a customs broker to fill out the duty forms. So I'm thinking, I'm a lawyer, I can certainly fill out a few forms, and I ask him for copies to fill out. He sends me back around to the front, where I purchase the form for approximately 20cents and start to fill them out. It was a bit like trying to do your taxes without turbo tax. So after consulting with Sten, it was off to the customs broker, RMS.

I explained the situation to the broker, described the materials so that he could write them up, and left him with copies of the invoice, our boat papers, and customs clearance. He told me that he should have our materials by tomorrow. By now I'm frustrated and concerned. We paid as much in shipping as we did for the materials, so that we could have them in time to have the canvas work done in Bequia between Suzy's trip and Graham and Eryn's trip. With this delay, we're running short on time. And we have no idea how much duty might be charged.

In the meantime, Sten was lining up Fixman, a former racecar mechanic who now lives in semi-retirement and works in Bequia, to weld the crack in our forward hatch, as soon as we get back from St. Vincent.


We head back to the boat and lift the dinghy on deck for the passage over to St. Vincent, using the spinnaker halyard and the winch on the mast. When done, I put our double handled winch handle on top of the dodger, so that I remember to put it in the cockpit before we leave.
We can raise the mainsail with a single handled winch handle, but the double handled certainly makes it a lot easier. Then I go downstairs to make lunch, while Sten ties down the dinghy. A few minutes later, during a gust of wind, the handle slides off of the top of the dodger and into 50 feet of water. Crap.

And now the alternator is acting up. Seriously?

After this fine start to the day, we head over to St. Vincent. We didn't enjoy rubbing up against a mooring ball all night when we were anchored in Young Island Cut, so we are going to stay in the Blue Lagoon tonight. Thing is, the cut is only 6 feet deep - the same as our keel, so we need someone to guide us in. We called ahead to TMM, which manages some of the moorings in the lagoon to let them know we were coming. When we get there, we call again, and they say that they will send someone out to lead us in. Half and hour later, the guys finally show up.

As soon as we were on the mooring, Sten got to work in the engine room, taking off the alternator. In the meantime, I put in a call to Defender, and ordered a replacement double handled winch handle and two spares to be delivered to Graham and Eryn. We put the alternator and the spare in a bag, and we got a taxi to Verrol's. Sten and the driver dropped me at a grocery that I wanted to check out. I wandered around like a kid in a candy store - sun dried tomatoes, frozen fresh pasta, and diet coke for less than a dollar a can. Yippee!

Like clockwork, as soon as I had paid up and reached the curb, Sten and Mr. Samuels, the driver, pulled up to take us back to the boat. We had some tasty rocket ravioli in a brown butter sauce for dinner.

Adding a layer of sadness to the whole day has been Lenore's impending departure. We're going to miss her so much.

February 13, 2007 - Petit St. Vincent to Bequia

With Suzy and Lenore flying back to Boston on Thursday the 15th, we decided that it would be good for them both to have a non-travel day on the day before their flight. So we started the trip back to St. Vincent today by doing the run up to Bequia.

At one point, as Sten was grinding on one of the primary winches, trying to get a decent shape out of our bag of a jib, Suzy looked at him and deadpanned, "you're doing a fine job of stretching rope." She has been such a great guest - pitching in on boat chores, steering and anchoring; she's comfortable in a seaway; not cranky the morning after a rolly, squally night at anchor; and she brought us red meat. Frankly, she's set the bar awfully high for all of our future guests.

It was a long sail to windward, into a decent swell and we ended up a couple of miles to leeward of West Cay, where pretty much everyone turns on the engine for a couple of miles of dead into the wind motor sailing to get up to the anchorage. Those couple of miles to leeward turned into a 2 knot motor sail into a very nasty 5ft wind chop and adverse current. For reference, in reasonable conditions we motor at 6-6.5 knots. Very frustrating... That was capped off by having to anchor in the middle of a squall. We tried several times to get the anchor to set, but it wasn't happening, so Sten dove on it to find out what the problem was. The bottom was hard-packed coral gravel with some beach ball sized rocks thrown in for good measure. There was no way the CQR was going to dig into that stuff, no matter how much scope we gave it. So we moved back to our old spot on the north side of the anchorage.

By now we were completely soaked, and chilled. For our evening sundowner, I decided that it was time to make that classic sailors drink - hot buttered rum. Um, yuck? Who decided that floating butter on top of a drink was a good idea? It isn't. Next time we are suffering from mild hypothermia at cocktail hour I'll stick with the Bailey's and hot cocoa.


For dinner, Suzy took us out to the Gingerbread House. We had an excellent meal sampling their tasty curries and sides.

February 12, 2007 - Tobago Cays, Union Island, Petite Martinique and Petit St. Vincent

This morning we woke to darkening skies and increasing winds. As the chop picked up in the anchorage, we decided that it was time to get out of dodge. We were also short on fresh fruits and veggies, so we thought a stop in Union Island was in order.


On the way over, our paper chart kit for the Southern Windwards flew overboard. We turned the boat around to try to recover it, but it sank before we could get back to it. This was actually as close to doing a man overboard drill as we've come. I know, we're bad cruisers. We've both done them, and taught them in sailing dinghies, but neither of us have done one in a boat this size. We learned a few things. From now on, the lazy jib sheet always gets wrapped around the winch a few times and tailed so that it can't slap around and potentially damage something if we have to tack quickly. We also prioritized figuring out how to work the MOB function on our chart plotter.

Without our paper charts, we're down to cruising guides, our chart plotter, and just in case the plotter dies, a disc of C-Map charts for the world that a friend passed along to us. This is actually how we'll navigate for most of the rest of the trip as buying paper charts for everywhere we want to go in the Pacific is prohibitively expensive. I'm going to miss the comfort of having an extra resource to check, but we might as well get used to it now. [Note: the mileage log in the image below doesn't include the Newport to Bermuda portion of our trip - as the plotter wasn't yet operational at that point.]


We pulled into Clifton, the main anchorage, and turned down a mooring ball offer from one of the boat boys. We tried dropping anchor twice, but weren't happy with our options. The harbor was just too crowded. So we headed back out and dropped anchor behind Frigate Island with just three other boats. We enjoyed lunch and a bit of a rest.

After lunch we headed out, with the intent of tucking behind Palm Island, just to windward of Union. The wind was still blowing hard, so when we noticed two crewed charter boats on a similar course alter course and head south we decided that they might know of a better spot to spend the night. We all wound up anchored between Petit St. Vincent, a small island with just a resort on it, and Petite Martinique, which is actually part of Grenada.

According to our cruising guide, Grenada doesn't mind if yachts visit Petite Martinique without clearing into Grenada first. And we'd read in the guide that there was decent provisioning with very good prices in PM. After a trip to the grocery on PM, Sten expressed his frustration with the Chris Doyle's over-enthusiastic descriptions. We understand that he needs to coddle the advertisers in his guide, but he does his readers a disservice by not giving them the straight dope.

So we hit 4 islands in one day. This is a personal record for us.

February 8, 2007 - February 11, 2007 Tobago Cays

We spent an idyllic few days in the Tobago Cays, a group of small, undeveloped islands nestled behind a protective reef. The water was extremely clear, so it was a great opportunity to try out the new camera and underwater housing that Suzy had brought us. That, and I'm obsessed with turtles. They are so graceful and peaceful as they calmly go about their days munching on sea grass.


There are a lot of boats in here, and we had one French guy anchor too close to us. When we suggested that he might want to park it somewhere else, he threw up his hands in protest, claiming not to speak English. Suzy told us later that as soon as we both hopped in the dinghy to go snorkel the reef, he let out some more chain so that he wouldn't be quite so close to us. Of course, that doesn't help much if the wind shifts, but at least now we aren't confronted with his banana hammock every time we look up from our books.

There are boat boys zipping about among all the boats, selling everything from fish and lobster, bread and ice, to T-shirts. We did buy a really delicious baguette from Walter one morning, but after being told the price ($12EC, or approximately $5US) we decided not to make it a habit, when the same loaf can be bought for $6EC on Union Island, a short sail away.

February 7, 2007 - Mustique, SVG

Last night we fell asleep to the sounds of the blues fest coming from Basil's Bar, one of the more famous Caribbean bars. Part of the notoriety of Basil's bar is a result of his personal life.

Mustique is a private island, developed by a member of the English peerage. The 100 or so houses are owned primarily by people with titles, with a few rock stars thrown in for variety - Mick Jagger, Shania Twain, and Brian Adams (clearly we're using the term "star" loosely). Approximately 30 years ago, a European countess came to visit some friends on the island, met Basil over dinner, and they fell deeply in love. While Basil is certainly tall dark and handsome, I doubt that he is what the countess's family had in mind for her paramour. Pictures of the two of them traveling with her two towheaded children from her prior marriage regularly appeared in the gossip columns at the time.

Basil still owns his bar, and every year he hosts a blues fest in January and February. We had arrived just in time for the closing night gala, complete with celebrity guests (last year it was Jagger) and a roast pig.

After meeting the pig, which the chefs had named "Randy" after one of their colleagues, we made reservations for the BBQ. Then we went off to wander around the island for a bit.

Mustique is one of the prettiest islands that we've seen. It is one of those places that makes me so glad that we are doing this trip. Mata'irea provides us with the means to to travel to places that we otherwise wouldn't be able to go, whether it is a private island with exorbitant villa rental prices or an isolated island, like Barbuda. She's a bit of a magic carpet.






When we showed up for dinner, there were some other folks at our table, which was close to the bar. While waiting for them to move on to their own table, we had some rum punches by the bar. As they got up, I spoke to the host, who quickly set the table for us. As I sat down to hold the table and keep and eye on our drinks while Sten and Suzy got in the buffet line, some folks off of a charter boat tried to sit down too. I smiled and explained that we had a reservation for this table.

A few minutes before, Sten had noticed the senior guy in the group (dad?) palm a $20 to one of the waiters. He was non-plussed when I stubbornly refused to give up my seat. All those years of guarding parking spots in the face of irate drivers in Chicago and Boston while Sten turned the car around or circled the block came in handy. When the charterer realized I wasn't backing down, he went off to find the waiter that he'd paid off.

Really, we should have all saved our money. The food was terrible and over priced. After three dismal meals out, and many more excellent meals aboard, Suzy isn't too interested in trying any more of SVG's restaurant options.

February 6, 2007 - Bequia to Mustique, SVG

This morning Alick was to come check out the fit of the new awning, but couldn't get away from the sail loft. So we headed over to Mustique, the next island down the Grenadine chain. It was a bumpy upwind sail for much of the trip, but we made very good time and were anchored with plenty of time for an afternoon snorkel, during which Sten and I saw a spotted drum fish, a first for both of us.

February 5, 2007 - Bequia

I picked up the sailmaker and his wife this morning so that they could come out to the boat to talk about the projects that we have in mind. We desperately need side panels for our bimini, to reduce the amount of sun we get while sitting in the cockpit in harbor and on passage. We would also like to get some small awnings made to cover the hatches over the forward and aft berths. It rains at some point during the night most nights. If we had awnings sheltering these hatches, we could leave them open at night without needing to stay somewhat alert to shut them at the first sign of drops.

Alick whipped out the awning for the forward hatch this afternoon, and I ordered the material for the remaining work. When we set up the new awning, it made a terrible racket with the slightest breeze. It needs some alterations before we'll be able to set it up for anyone to sleep under.

Just before sunset Maltese Falcon came sailing into the harbor. She really is the most stunning boat out here. Not classically beautiful, but her lines are striking and her rig design is revolutionary - she's a square-rigger on steroids.

She was built by Perini for Tom Perkins, the venture capitalist. The 14 year old, 288ft hull was originally built for another project, that was eventually abandoned. Perkins bought it from Perini, for them to finish as the Falcon. He then set up his own spar building plant to work out the kinks in the aero-rig design, which was the 1960's, oil crisis inspired brain-child of some German engineers, and build the masts. She cost over $100M to build. And after construction was complete, Perkins donated the spar plant to Perini.

If you can scrape together $300K, you can charter her for a week.