The trip from Tobago to Trinidad is only 70 or so nm, aided by a west setting current, until the passage through the bocas, which are channelsor passes through a series of islands, where dependent on the tide and prevailing wind, the current can either aid or abate your trip.  There are stories of boats taking hours to complete the last few miles of the trip, and we were amazed at the counter current we had to push against, and the effect it had on the sea state.

For those of you who are not familiar with Trinidad, let me fill you in.  The hurricane season runs from June to the end of November each year, and affects a vast area in the North Atlantic, Gulf of Mexico, and pretty muchthe entire Caribbean area.  Trinidad is on the southern boundary of this area and has not experienced a hurricane in over 100 years, and as such has evolved into an enormous yachting mecca for storing, maintenance and provisioning while yachties wait out the season.  Chaguaramas, where the boating world dominates,  is on the southern coast of the north western peninsular of Trini, and stretches out along the coast against a backdrop of rainforest clad mountains, with eleven  small forested islands  just offshore.  It  is a section of several kilometres where boatyards, jetties, moorings and marinas, sophisticated  travel lifts and outhaul facilities, associated boating industries and chandleries, restaurants, internet cafes and the like exist side by side for the exclusive purpose of providing a service to yachties and liberally lining the pockets of the tradesmen and entrepreneurs who have had the foresight to establish their businesses here.  At any one time there is an average of 3000 boats here, most of them ‘on the hard’ busy with repairs, or in storage.  When leaving Tobago, we were considering heading straight to Grenada,  but having missed Trinidad on our last travels, decided to pop over to Trini for a brief visit, just so it we didn’t feel cheated.  Our plan was to stay for a week or so, it has turned out to be the ‘or so’ bit, we can’t quite fathom why, but we have now been here well over a month.  Unless you own a boat, you probably will never appreciate the on-going and unrelenting work involved in the upkeep of Katlyn, so coupled with jobs never finished in SA, and new challenges of the bilges, we have been on a continued slog, Doug mostly buried in the engines, battery lockers or bilges,  or up the mast, and me at my sewing machine creating summer clothes for Katlyn, or the never ending task of keeping the boat fungus free and clean and Doug’s tummy full.

The added bonus of such an extended stay has been meeting up again with our very good friends Ian and Chrissie Bruton on Solvesta, with whom we spent a good deal of time in the Indian Ocean on Gambit.

On arrival we anchored off the TTSA (Trinidad and Tobago Sailing Association) clubhouse for a couple of days and enjoyed their crystal clear pool and flatscreen TV facilities, but as it became apparent that we would need shore power and the convenience of being on a mooring to undertake work, we moved around to Power Boats, one of the repair yards, where we took a berth for a week and started on all these jobs. Our mooring neighbours were a bunch of four paunchy, hairy, crass, middle-aged Italians who were having some stainless steel work done on their boat, which required them to be off the boat during the day.  They set up camp at the stern of our boat each day, and clad in the most un-enchanting  of yachtie wear, gave us a full experience of their bohemian lifestyle, their nether regions, and their uncouth manners. Yuck.

Of course a week turned into more, nothing proved as simple as it should have been, so we settled into life in Chaguaramas, as yachties tend to do, intermingling days of very hot sweaty work with some lighter moments. These are some of the happenings in our world over the last few weeks.

The early bird catches the worm wake up call….every morning without fail, this little chappie perched on our guardrail well before dawn, to welcome the new day.

He is a kiskadie, and pretty persistent about his message.  There was no way to be disgruntled as he serenaded us into the darkest mornings, well ahead of his other feathered counterparts.  Just got up and put the kettle on the gas, (interestingly, our boat brained minds took a full four days to register that we were on shore power and had an electric kettle..)

The late night wake up call…. Kate and I were busy with girl stuff, Doug fast asleep in his bunk, when our peaceful world was shattered with a rumbling and a grumbling and a vibrating and gyrating so intense and scary, it seemed we were being run down by an enormous ship. But as we were in a mooring berth, this couldn’t be.  Kate and I watched as the pylons to which ours and all the other boats mooring lines were secured to, shook and vibrated like jack hammers at work, the surrounding water was rippled and confused, and Katlyn shuddered all over.  The masts of the boats on the hard did the same, and the noise persisted.  Then it was all over after several minutes, Doug was bolt upright in bed, and we were just aghast – so what was that? Could only have been an earth tremor, we thought, but what a ridiculous notion, no-one has mentioned that possibility ever.  But turns out it was, 7.4 on the richter scale, but the epicentre some distance away from us.  Solvester  said the next morning that they envisioned the domino effect their boat would have caused if the props holding them up on the hard had collapsed.  As there are monohulls interspersed with catamarans all over the dock yard, his interpretation was a series of desperate meouws!

The early evening swim… ok, so now’s the time to mention the water.  For all things good about Trini, the water is not.  Fair at times, but mostly  foul and littered, sometimes with a thin smelly layer of diesel and slime,  just for an extra touch of disgust,  and add to that us being in the corner mooring which creates an eddy perfect for the accumulation of such filth.  On such a day, at low tide, when boarding the boat is tricky to say the least,  Katie’s  special dark glasses (a gift from her brother) fall into the mess while she negotiates the rather precarious plank laden with goodies from a day of shopping in Port of Spain.  Needless to say, there was no choice but to quickly grab a mask and snorkel, and fully clothed  she slipped gingerly into the water between the plastic bottles and bags, bobbing beer bottles, chip packets, and diesel,  luckily managing to find her glasses on the bottom in the gathering dark.  We hosed her down like a dog that’s been rolling in ….well something.

A word about the litter – this is not filth created by yachts, this is a working port and huge ships are tied up.  Their practise is to empty their waste directly into the bay.  As we speak, a huge container ship is berthed just 100 metres from us, and a night or two ago, as we were dinghying back from braaiing ashore, we were horrified that the entire bay was afloat with litter, the spaces between each item not more than 30cm apart, all soaked in a liberal film of oil.  It seems no one cares, certainly no one reacts. Onto happier activities.

My birthday a super relaxing day spent skyping with Dylan and Mom, opening a pile of fabulous pressies cleverly thought out by Doug and Kate, and a festive braai in the evening.  I was treated with the hanging of two awesome pics using some clever 3M product called Command picture hangers which ensure that the picture can be removed and rehung at any time (our pictures now cover unsightly but essential to access cupboards), and the hangers themselves can be removed without leaving a trace. Smart eh?

Also some brass plaques for the cabin doors naming each cabin (we are tired of – it’s in the aft starboard cabin, you know the one where Dylan was sleeping but now all the canvas work is).  4 previous boats, 4 cabin names!

And some friendly geckos, girlie stuff and more.  Very spoilt I was.

Not so relaxing for Kate and Doug; we had an electrician aboard doing some troubleshooting for us while Katie did the birthday baking, two carrot cakes, one for the evening braai, one for the boat, a milk tart etc. All was in the gas oven when an untimely turning off of power caused the gas solenoid to shut off, unnoticed by the chef at the time, so birthday cakes were dubious in quality but not a crumb remained.  Well done Katie for all the hard work, cake mishaps and salad calamities included, and thank you Chrissie for baking too, your choccy cake was amazing and helped feed the hoard of yachties.  One of the highlights of the evening braai was a serenade by a polish chap, who arrived on an old fashioned bicycle adorned with bells and whistles,  and a guitar in a case.  Without any intro, he broke into the chatter with the Polish Happy Birthday, loud, spirited and jangly, then he had everyone joining in with the traditional one, and finally, Jan Pierewit! Turns out this adventurous traveller has cycled most continents, and his most recent trip was from North Africa to Cape Town before catching a ride on a yacht across the Atlantic.  He certainly has a story or two to tell and was even sporting a Sharks T-shirt. (see first photo).  Thank you Jim, from ‘Fiddler’, who we met in Tobago, for organising this –  it was a novel idea.

Shopping…….Port of Spain is the capital city, about a half hour maxi taxi ride.  The maxis are super-efficient and very easy to catch, you simply stand on the side of the road and signal with a lift of your hand, and within a few minutes you are bouncing and bobbing and weaving along a winding road just wide enough for two cars.

Every now and then you stop to load a passenger, and so do all the cars behind you stop, for there is nowhere to overtake, but there is no road rage, no hooting, no cursing.  ‘Caribbean time mon’.  Although most of the taxis are in various stages of disrepair with weird clunking sounds and disembowelled air-conditioners , all their sound systems work well…enough said.  It costs a mere TT5 (5 Trini dollars, about R7.50) for this experience, and you get loaded off at the taxi rank in Port of Spain. Not so efficient was a private car taxi which we caught once.  The shabbily dressed slacker spent the best part of the trip answering his cell phone and arguing with someone in a mixture of English and their local dialect, distracted on the road and rather unnerving.  Justice was served when we got pulled over by the police, and he was fined for no seatbelt and talking on his mobile, TT1000 (R1500) per offence.  Our taxi fare didn’t cover it.  This guy was sure having a blue Monday.  Back to shopping –  It is a fascinating experience spending a day in town, the vibe is bustling, busy, somewhat dirty, somewhat ‘looking over your shoulder’, and the contrasts remarkable.  Boutique shops with upmarket designer clothing rub shoulders with cheap Chinese imports on vendor’s stalls, expensive goldsmiths and jewelry outlets compete with jangly costume pieces, there are fabric shops galore, draped with colourful samples across their doorways and the pavements are bursting with hawkers.

There are food courts and street vendors selling local food interspersed with the odd restaurant. Efficient businessmen and women in corporate dress, step around vagrants sleeping on cardboard boxes.

One of our favourite shops was the carnival costume supply shop.  Check out the pics!  One can lose oneself in the vibe and before you know it, be queuing along with 500 others for a taxi home at the end of a day (this is now a two hour affair).

Some cultural and eco-tourism…Kate did some research and planned a day around Trinidad, taking in the main attractions, including a cathedral.

a labyrinth…

a monastery…

Where Doug was more interested in removing the wires for a perfect take off site and I listened to his plan of action with pseudo interest!

a mosque…

Hindu temple and Hanuman statue…

We took a trip down to the pitch lake, a slowly churning lake of natural bitumen which you can walk on with intermittent warm springs bubbling through, which provided bitumen for road coverings worldwide.

We visited the Pointe-a-Pierre Wild Fowl Trust, and were impressed by the beautiful set up and incredible bird life, as well as the amazing work this organization is doing in environmental education and rehabilitation of endangered species.

Unfortunately our tour of the sanctuary was hampered by torrential and unrelenting rain!

One of the highlights of our touristy occupations was a visit to the magnificent Gasparee Caves on one of the outlying islands, marred only by the rabble of fellow tourists who completely ignored the guides attempt to educate them, munched and slobbered on chips, and of course had no volume buttons or courtesy at all.  The guide eventually gave up and concentrated his efforts on the few of us who appreciated the ‘serenity’ and awesomeness of being underground in a fairytale world.  The laugh was on us, when as a special treat, we were given the unprecedented thumbs up to swim in the underwater lake; of course the ‘non-swimmers’ couldn’t join in!

Diwali…Jesse James, a local and well supported tour operated organized a special evening into a hindu village to experience the festival of lights and the honouring of the Hindu Goddess of light, beauty, riches and love, Lakshmi.  We were entertained by drummers and dancers (whose unusual and captivating style of head and arm movements was amazing), given a traditional vegetarian curry meal served on banana leaves, and then we strolled around the village viewing the thousands of flickering deyas (tiny clay pots with candle wicks and oil), the beautifully lit and decorated homes and streets, and collecting gifts of sweets from some of the locals, who are all dressed in glittering traditional costume for the occasion.

Hunting and Gathering….well, not a place for hunting, the rods are out of the rod holders and temptations way, down in the forepeak storage, so gathering it must be.  The local supermarket is the Hi Lo, the larger stores are probably equivalent to a Pick and Pay back home, and the smaller ones similar to a Friendly or 7/11. There is also a Price Smart which is a membership  bulk shopping store similar to Makro.  You can get most commodities here, including liquor, for about  one and a third times home prices, and with this in mind we have done a substantial provisioning, as the further north one goes , the more expensive it gets.  Fresh produce is a challenge, these people are not farmers by either choice or expertise.  Most of the produce is imported and that which is locally grown is so scant that it too, is expensive.  An average sized paw-paw is R35, (on a tropical island?!) a kg of tomatoes is R38, potatoes virtually unaffordable as is other fruit except apples and bananas, which are R6 each.  Packeted potato flakes are what we are reduced to.  Free range chickens are a figment of the imagination, as is karoo lamb, but the Trini mutton is ok, better that goat, which is the preferred staple with the locals, and we have adjusted our minds to battery chickens. Bodi beans have become a favourite, they are very long, about 50 to 60cm, and are delicious just steamed (yes, I do cut them to fit in the pot, sillies). We hired a car for a day, after getting caught without  ride home one day – the taxis will not stop if you have more than one or two bags.  Doug and I had managed to hustle a coolerbox in to the empty taxi on the ride in, but no joy on the way back to Katlyn!

Doug is always astounded at the amount of toilet paper bought and stashed In the most inaccessible of cubbyholes and lockers.  This is a reminder why…..

 

Laundry…instead of putting my baby twin tub to work, I have been doing loads in the super -sized machines ashore, well priced at 15TT a load (R22), and bringing it back to the boat to hang on the guardrails. This is of course still an exercise as the loading and dinghying ashore, lugging it to the Laundromat, waiting for a machine (yes, we queue for the privilege of an automatic) and then for the cycle to complete, lugging back down to the dinghy and then to the boat, all requires some effort….oh,  its just dawning on me right now that I am the laundry lugger and Doug is the water lugger….go figure, no wonder he approves. (jokes aside, he does help lugging)

Canvas work…finally, after weeks of really time consuming and labour intensive sewing, I have embarked on and completed all the major canvas work that there was no time for back home.  We have roll down sides for the cockpit bimini, which act both as sun screens, rain screens  and ‘privacy curtains’ (new terminology bandied around here), a full on roll away bimini over the entire coach roof to shield the vast saloon windows from heat absorption, a fold away bimini for the trampoline, clip on saloon window sunscreens to replace the old ones and further insulate the saloon, a dinghy cover, and outboard motor cover and harness, as well as mosquito nets for the cabins.  When my work was done and dusted on all these creations, it still required some ingenuity and many days’ work for Doug to attach or install all Katlyn’s new clothes.

Dougs work….days and weeks of maintenance including fitting a new wind instrument, which proved tricky as it turned out the one pin had broken off the sender unit and was lodged in the cable at the top of the mast, (luckily Ian was very obliging and helped with this protracted repair), re- conditioning of alternators, fitting of new Yamaha ignition boards, making new outboard motor stands on the guardrails, putting a shelf in the galley, arguing with the bilge pumps and re-aligning and troubleshooting pulleys and belts in the engines. He was also hard at work braaiing supper some evenings and competing with Ian for the most South African joke over a few beers.

American Visas…..well these had to be done somewhere, so we embarked on the convoluted process of the online application, payment (only at a Scotia Bank, no we don’t accept your credit card, oh the machine is out of order, oh, you will have to do it in two steps as your daily limit will not allow for the exorbitant visa fee etc)  , create an appointment on line, and then wait in the hot sun for an hour, followed by another two in the holding cells of the embassy…, but that all said and done, 10 year multiple entry visas ticked off the list. For obvious reasons, there are no photos of this encounter.

And Katie’s exodus to the USA… in search of a paying job (tired of skivvying on Katlyn, and time to get real.)  Two weeks ago, after nearly a year living on Katlyn, and 5 months cruising with us, we did the early morning airport trip,(had to be there at 4.20 am for a 6.20am flight), and we bid farewell to Kate, headed to the Miami Boat Show in the hope of getting a  berth and job on one of the super yachts, her life packed into one backpack and a small tog bag. Good luck my darling, you are sorely missed on “Katlyn” and we hope your plans come together. Perhaps we will intercept along the chain of islands as we head north, and you south aboard your new home.

And last but not least…the inevitable search and conquer of the internet cafe, without which all things cyber, banking, corresponding, blogging, querying, skyping, cursing, and socializing would cease to exist, and where I sit close to hyperthermic in the ice cold chill of an overworked air-con trying to get the blog updated before we sail to Grenanda in a day or two’s time.  This internet cafe closes at 4pm each day, and the stragglers move outside to continue their skype conversations, movie downloads and the likes on the steps of the local chandlery.

As always it seems the blog gets updated just before we head off to a new location and it is the first time that I have had to do the formatting and input of the blog myself. That didn’t go so well… So on the eve of our departure to Grenade, I have got Kate sitting in Florida formatting the blog.

Looking forward to proper Caribbean waters and sending you all some more stories.

>>>>>Remember to have a look at the rest of the pictures <<<<<

– Val

Trinidad, West Indies

(Lights, Litter, and Yachts, yachts and yachts of yachts)

Bargain: Free Wifi in an air-conditioned room with printer and I.T. services.

Irritation/Quirk: Yachties owning dogs who bark when your yacht turns on anchor.

Cost of a coke: TT$6.00