Grenaida, Grenarda, tomaito, tomarto, what a lovely place however it’s pronounced

By Val

Our departure from Trini was typical after one’s been in a place too long;  plenty of preparation, last minute things to do, goodbyes to old and new friends at the final braai, before finally loosening our umbilical cord to the mooring buoy which had become home for several weeks.  Typical in that so often when the boat has been a home rather than a sailing vessel, little irksome troubles present themselves, like huge billows of smoke belching out of the port engine, so that we had to shut down the engine with haste and circle around and pick up the mooring buoy again (fending off the two boats already trying to grab the newly available buoy in the process).  An inspection of the inner workings of our port engine showed no obvious problem, so we mulled over this for a while, that it only happened once in gear….and the inevitable dawned on Doug – it could be prop related.  Trini waters are not inviting, they are filthy in fact, but this is a necessity and Doug  goes overboard with mask and snorkel, only to discover inches of barnacle growth  which has all but solidified the prop, creating huge drag on the motor. Once in the water he decides to clean the entire boat as well and spends two hours in this filth doing a basic but labour intensive clean with paint scraper, screw driver and heaps of endurance, and finally three hours later, with a clean boat and a purring motor, we once again departed from Chaguaramas.  The third hour, by the way, was how long it took to clean Doug after he emerged from the water.  Hundreds, maybe thousands of disgusting little marine creepy crawlies had imbedded themselves in the hair all over his body,  creating an exoskeleton of crusty beasties that refused to be simply washed off.  Like a  contaminated radiation worker, we scrubbed and rubbed the blighters off, ‘til Doug looked like a Vaalie in Durbs for the summer holidays.  We followed this up with a thorough Betadine soaking, and then had to deal with the infestation in his baggies.  A mild inconvenience at least.  So finally we left, just in time to catch the slack low tide before the water started sucking in through the Bocas.  Following strong words of advice threatening an endless passage against the North Atlantic Current we had a plan…over to Doug

Passage to Grenada

By Doug

After all the hype over the 80nm crossing to Grenada, we were either very lucky with the wind and current conditions, or we sailed the leg very well.  Because of a 2 knot west setting current and a NE swell, we had heard that most yachts tended to end up being pushed west of Grenada. Under these circumstances, you would have to motor up into the wind and current to reach their destination, a slow, uncomfortable and hammering experience. Because of this we started out by motoring along the northern coast of Trinidad into a weak westerly current.  I was still bothered by this tactic as I felt we could point 45 degrees off the wind and lay a line for Grenada.  Anyway, it could do no harm so we made 12nm easting enjoying the beautiful North Coast of Trinidad. As any sailor would understand, motoring into a swell and current at 4.5 knots sucks!

When the time came to bear off and lay a NE course, I was itching to go and with a full main and genoa we were soon doing 8 to 9 knots. With the noisy “donkeys” put to rest, the boat was now filled with the magical sounds of the ocean sloshing and banging as we sped along through the night. We had allowed 14 hours for the passage with a planned arrival of 8am, but because of our point of sail and speed, we ended up arriving in Grenada at 3am. Anchoring at night is always tricky and it proved to be just that! The Prickly Bay Anchorage which we last visited in 1998, was filled with boats without anchor lights but we finally found some space and hit the sack for some well deserved sleep.

Prickly Bay and beyond

By Val

The first thing on wakening that assaulted the senses was that we had arrived in the Caribbean, surrounded by probably a hundred peaceful boats all anchored in turquoise water, against a backdrop of mountains and lush green vegetation, with gorgeous homes dotted randomly on the foothills down to the waters edge.  WHOOP WHOOP.  But first we had to clear customs and immigration, so we prettied ourselves up, launched the dinghy and went scratchy eyed ashore in search of the officials.  One thing about a Caribbean clearing office is that it is rustic and simple but pretty darn efficient.  Although the officials range from surly to over familiar, most of them get the process done without unnecessary delay.  Compare this with a tour through our South African neighbouring countries’ borders…the contrast is vast.  Once cleared, we headed east along the southern shore for an hour or so to Clarkes Court Bay, which is less crowded and with many interesting inlets and bays within it.  We met up with Panache, shared supper and sundowners, and found a charming internet café at the Whisper Cove Marina, which has just one small walk on accommodating 12 yachts.

We explored Hog Island and surrounds, enjoying the cleanliness of it after Trini.  After several days we headed back to Prickly Bay in search of some fresh produce and this is what we found

Our excitement didn’t last long though, at EC$31.70 per pound.  That equates to about EC$70 per kg, which is about R280 per kg, for some tasty vitamin C.  Wimbledon would be hard pressed to compete.  Come on Mom, start exporting your strawberries!  It is a constant quest trying to get decent veges and fruit at affordable prices.  Tomatoes are about R100 a kg and not Woolies quality by any stretch of the imagination, spinach about R50 for a half size packet, potatoes about the same as tomatoes, a small cabbage about R65, a medium sized yellow or red pepper about R65, eggs about R90 a doz, milk is R40 for 2 litres. Most of the produce is imported, very little being grown on the island apart from spices . Spar and Woolies shoppers, you’ve got it great.  At least the long walk back to the anchorage was easy as we had very little to carry!  By contrast, the Panache’s found an HUGE Christmas turkey plus a few other bulky provisions which they bundled into their yacht trolley and laboured home with, looking like they had slaughtered an island goat on the quiet.   The wheels on the contraption kept getting caught in the crevices of the broken pavement and kerbs (where there was one), or in the dongas where we cross countried.  It was comical watching them negotiate this feast back to the dinghy, and then load it.  (Panache has an enviable deepfreeze and generator not common on cruising yachts….we plan to stalk them for Xmas dinner….)

Part of our returning to Prickly Bay was to make contact with a connection we had been given to a European holiday/charter operator based there.  They market Caribbean holidays, mostly to German and Austrian couples, which can include several days on privately owned cruising yachts.  The idea is affordable charters for middle to upper income people who want a realistic taste of the Caribbean from a cruise yacht, as opposed to the grandeur of a cruise ship, or the sophistication of a super yacht experience.  Whilst we are in this area, it seems a good idea, and will help top up our cruising kitty from time to time.  The concept is low key, with intermittent bookings rather than back to back charters with a frenetic turnover of guests, which we feel will suit us well.  We have accepted our first booking for next month, and will use this as a guide of what to expect and whether to expand on the idea and opportunity.

We spent a great day in and around St. Georges, the capital of Grenada, strolling along the waterfront and roaming the streets and market. It is one of the prettiest of all Caribbean harbours, and very popular with the cruise ships. The town wraps around the bay and lagoon, and is dominated by Fort George, built in 1706, which overlooks  both the Caribbean Sea and the harbour. Georgian architecture abounds, as does the French influence from nearly two centuries of Grenada changing hands between Britain and France.  The waterfront is lined with red roofed buildings ranging from dilapidated to beautifully restored, housing harbour industries, government departments, eating places and the odd vagrant.  The main fishing and cruise ship activities are within the town harbour (the Carenage), whilst the yachting and charter activities are in the lagoon, the horseshoe bay adjoining the harbour. There is an ancient tunnel under the fort, which links portions of the town. Grenada is known as the Spice Island of the Caribbean, and this is very evident in the marketplace where there are endless tiny little stalls loaded to capacity with every type of spice and essence you can imagine. There are more spices per square mile on Grenada than anywhere else on the globe, and a third of the world’s nutmeg is produced here.   I even found powdered  and fresh bergamot, famous for the flavouring in my most favourite tea, Earl Grey.  I discovered that bergamots are not intended to be eaten in their ‘citrus’ state; having cut one open to inspect, I ran my tongue over the flesh and ended up with numb zingy lips and mouth for hours after that.  Nothing could take the discomfort away, and now I look with suspicion at my little packet of powdered bergamot….any suggestions?? 

Although fabulous and varied eating places abound, we decided to have a burger as it was ‘Build a Burger’ day at the quaint little bakery set up by a South African cruising couple near the marina in the lagoon.  I doubt if I have eaten ten burgers in my life time, but this sure was a treat. 

On another trip to St. Georges, we asked the taxi to drop us off at the Post Office, as I had a Xmas box to send off home.  We were surprised that the post office is not located in a business hub, just randomly situated near the ship container depot.  I had arrived expecting to find a nearby stationery shop or at least be able to buy a bubble wrap envelope or small box within the P.O., but the assistants were baffled when  I asked!  Eventually after much to-ing and fro-ing a battered box was found which we re-invented with sticky tape, but it needed to be covered with brown paper.  Two asymmetrical scraps were procured by our box helper, which we patched together with more sticky tape, the stamps and the parcel ticket, and finally we posted the box!  We noticed much covert amusement (or was it ridicule?) at our antics.  ‘Will this get to South Africa by Xmas?’ I asked rhetorically….it was about the 20^th November.  Not likely I was told, it has to go via the UK and will take about 2 months!!  Well, it’s the thought and wrapping that counts.  One particular day we got back to Katlyn, only to discover that Doug had left his darkglasses somewhere in town. Luckily he thought he could remember where, so the next day he had to go in search of them – no problem, they were still there, exactly where he had left them!  What was different about this trip though, was that a large liner was on the dock and instead of the town was flooded with thousands of tourists eager to find that special souvenir.

While we were in the Prickly Bay anchorage,  we drew up a basic schedule of dates, anchorages and distances in nm, so we could plan our timing and route to Fort de France in Martinique, where we meet Dylan on the 13th Dec.  Included in the schedule was stops at all the places on the ‘charter’ route for our first guests at the end of the month. With all these stops to fit in, and the fact that the passage northwards is always a beat into the NE trades, we decided it was time to get moving.

A couple of days later, filled with our first bought water and ready to move on, we sailed around to St. Georges and anchored off.  Here we were greeted with the sight of a huge passenger liner on the dock nearby. What is so amazing is that they come into relatively shallow water under their own steam, totally unaided by pilots or tugs, you’ve got to admire that. The setting is gorgeous, with the scenic town and commanding fort against the mountains, the crisp white cruise ship, the yachts, resorts and beaches.  As evening settled in, all the lights started flickering on and the view was quite surreal.  Whilst not one our favourite sights, the cruise ships do look truly amazing all lit up at night. Unfortunately we haven’t bought a camera since Katie went off with hers, so our rather shoddy photos are a result of using a cell phone or iPad instead.

Grenada to Carriacou

By Doug

For the last month the wind has hardly changed, NNE to ENE – 15 to 25 knots. The lower half of the Windward Islands run NE to SW, so as we planned our passage to Union Island via Ronde Island and Carriacou, we knew it would entail a fair amount of motor-sailing. The general tactic is to sail North in the lee of the island and as you round the top of the island, you try to make some easting before heading NE across the passage. It has been 16 years since we last sailed these waters and one tends to forget that each little island passage, along with different wind and current has changing characteristics. What might work one day does not necessary work on another.

 At first light we were under way and as we rounded the Northern end of Grenada we were reminded what Caribbean sailing can be like. It was like a washing machine, the swells were coming from all directions and trying to beat into that was not going to happen. So it was on with the donkeys and we crashed our way along, losing ground to leeward at an alarming rate.

It was then that Val, whilst on galley duty (no comments please) noticed water pouring into the bilges. Now I have always found that this kind of scenario tends to raise the heart rate, but “luckily” I have been in this situation on a few occasions before.  So I traced the source back to the Port stern section and on inspection, I found the area around the rudder post in about 2 feet of water. The biggest fear is water coming in from the rudder post as this is near impossible to repair at sea.  I remember many years ago when I was new to sailing, an “old salt” telling me what to do in this situation. So I simply scooped up a handful of water and tasted it. It was fresh. Obviously this eliminated most of the worries other than us losing our precious, paid for,  fresh water.

We beat and bashed our way to the remote anchorage at Rhonde Island, skirting the 1.5nm exclusion zone demarcating the active volcano lying just west of Rhonde. It is easy to understand why this part of the passage is so unpredictable and uncomfortable.  The depths over these few miles range from 1200m surrounding the volcano, to 500m in the crater, with parts of the rim and the approach to Rhonde being 100 or so. This creates currents and swells from all directions.  We anchored and proceeded to bail all the water out. It turned out to be a ruptured water pipe for the transom shower which I isolated from the fresh water system. Unfortunately, with any kind of flooding, it always involves packing out all the wet gear (luckily it was our Scuba Gear) to dry out. After a snorkel and lunch we headed through a narrow passage, same revolting  sea, and beat the rest of our way to Carriacou. Once there we discovered that the hatch above our bunk had been a crack open through this tossed up sea….

Tyrrel Bay

By Val

Tyrrel Bay, Carriacou, is a convenient stop over.  Not remarkable, but certainly peaceful and simplistic.  We busied ourselves with repairing the water leak, unpacking under the bunk where it was flooded, bailing, rinsing and drying out the BC’s and other gear, and drying out the deepfeeze where it had been standing in water.  Luckily, despite the electrics sitting in water, the freezer has not complained.  Also a fairly time consuming and water expensive exercise was rinsing the saltwater out of our bedding, most notably the mattress covers and mattress protectors.  The hatches all have a setting where they can be just ‘cracked’ open, but still secured with the latch, and a cursory glance when checking will not notice this oversight…..one needs to make sure!!

We explored the rustic and simple waterfront, basic shops ramshackled along the street, all local and unsophisticated. Then it was time to do the obligatory taxi ride to see the lay of the land further afield, so we waved down a taxi and wound our way to Hillsborough, the capital.  En route we saw a grassy hillside cemetery in the distance, with white washed tombstones interspersed with vegetation and creepers.  Looked like a peaceful way to spend eternity, until we rounded the corner and got stuck in a funeral traffic jam.  The road is windy, and cut into the hillside, so two cars can only just pass each other, but not if the funeral procession has parked along the road.  A good amount of cussing and complaining was happening, with a continuous commentary from the passengers as a free for all situation developed with cars and taxis trying to shoulder each other out of the way, others reversing haphazardly.  On the grassy hillside where last respects were being paid, the audience was more enthralled with the traffic snarl up than the eulogy. It was very entertaining.  Eventually after a good 20 minutes or so, the local force arrived and traffic sense was restored.

The taxi dropped us off in Hillsborough, a rather run down town boasting the loftiness of capital.  We wandered around trying to be inspired, but it really did not appeal to us.  We inspected the local beauty salon and bar alongside, bought a top up of veges at a stall and taxied back to the anchorage where we had beers and an early supper on shore at a lovely beach restaurant. 

Could’ve worked well to have a facial while Doug watched the rugby, the two were alongside each other…..

Carriacou to Union

By Doug

It was time to head off again and we rounded the Southern Point of Carriacou and motored the couple of miles to stunning Sandy Island. This is just a strip of pure white sand surrounded by azure waters, with a little bush and a few palm trees.  We anchored in 4 meters of water and swam ashore with our masks only.  We walked up to the Northern point , re-entered the water and snorkeled all the way back down. The sea life was amazing with lots of fish, schools of squid, coral and plenty of lobster.  It is a marine reserve and it took all my self-discipline to stop one or two “jumping” into my baggies!

After lunch at this lovely spot, we upped anchor and headed for the dreaded Northern end of the island for the short passage to Union Island. Surprise, in the same conditions as before, the sea was flat and we covered the short distance in no time at all, pointing 45 degrees to windward with main and close hauled genoa. The barber haulers we installed on the coach roof worked incredibly well.  In Union, we anchored in 3m of water off Clifton Harbour,  behind an exposed reef.  Other than a small swell on the beam, it is reasonably comfortable. (unless you only have one hull).

A quick word on that point.  As most of you know, I have sailed monohulls most of my sailing life. I will never have a bad word to say about them and I truly have fantastic memories in the 6 years we cruised on them. But boy, do I feel the pain for my fellow sailors on a slightly roly anchorage. This is especially evident at night, when all the anchor lights on the masts compete with each other to see who can create the widest acute angle. I can remember times when we literally were rolled out of our bunks on anchor. Both Mono and Multihulls have their pros and cons, but the two biggest factors that we have come to realise are that one, we spend the majority of the time sailing in the favourable wind vector of 270 degrees and two, that of all the time we spend aboard, only a minimal amount is spent actually sailing. The rest is mostly on anchorage. The volume, stability and comfort on the most basic boat is not to be under estimated, and so cruising on a catamaran is, for us, preferable. Having said that, I still love to sail a monohull!

Clifton, Union Island

By Val

The anchorage in Clifton Bay is breathtakingly gorgeous, protected to the north by an expansive reef in a kaleidoscope of colours,  but with an unobstructed view towards Mayreau and the Tobago Cays.  Kite boarders are prolific, traversing the gap between the yacht anchors and the reef with such speed and precision that our initial fears of a kite boarder tangled in out mast quickly evaporated. 

The town of Clifton is charming and beguiling, full of colour and character. It has a cosmopolitan feel about it, mixing the hustle and bustle of an airport, a port, a vibrant tourism and day charter industry, and locals going about their daily business. A Twin Otter regularly lands at the adjacent airstrip to drop off a new batch of tourists.  A few upmarket boutiques nestle unpretentiously in colourful buildings alongside kiosks and local souvenir shops, fruit stalls and kids playing in the street.  Joys of all joys, I encountered Signa, whose husband sold his fishing boat (good move, there appear to be no fish in this sea ) to buy a plot of land.  He now farms fresh produce, while Signa runs the kiosk.  For the first time since SA, I bought fresh rocket, basil, coriander and mint. It was expensive by SA standards, but fresher and friendlier you could not get.

More of Union

By Doug

The next day we took the dinghy to Palm Island, a privately owned island with a hotel tastefully tucked away between the Palm Trees. You are allowed ashore to walk the beach and swim, but not into the hotel itself unless you are dining there.  We had a very disappointing  snorkel  on the adjoining reef.

Our favourite anchorage in Union Island has to be at Frigate Island, a spit jutting out into the ocean, with a rugged koppie perched on its end. The little town ashore is called Ashton, here is the Welcome sign!

But there are some pretty homes in the village!

It has a lovely reef with good snorkelling on the windward side and pure white sand on the other side.  Some years ago extensive work started on developing a 300 boat marina, but the project went bankrupt, and the remains are still evident.  It is in fact where we are at the moment, anchored in 2m of water.  You can snorkel around the boat collecting Sand Dollars (Pansy Shells) on the sandy bottom, and checking out the multitude of huge starfish, and the odd ray, in the crystal clear water.

The island topography is made up of a series of mountains of which the highest peak is about 350m. They are covered in very dense bush, thorn trees, sisal plants and various cacti and prickly pears. How do I know this, well that leads me to our next adventure.  We both love hiking and climbing mountains so yesterday Val suggested we climb one of the peaks above the anchorage. So while she got her things together, I packed the lunch (who says I don’t do galley duty – no comments please). So, I did what any guy would do, I grabbed a tin of sardines, half a baguette, left over coleslaw and my Swiss army knife. Val had done some research on the route and had a good idea of where to go.

On the way ashore, we stopped at one of the local boats to ask them to keep an eye on our boat while we were gone and in conversation, they told us of a different route (who says men never ask for directions). So with a small backpack containing our “lunch”, lots of water and a machete we headed up the mountain. We walked up a local road, sharp left onto the grassy slopes, boy were we making good time! Doug’s secret route was proving a great success. It was at about this time that the bush started to get thicker and I was being forced to cut away sections of the prickly pears, stopping all the more frequently to pull thorns out of my anatomy.

Boy, we were no longer making such good time. From that point on it just got more and more difficult and about 75% of the way up, while sucked in against a vertical rock face, Val quietly questioned if this was a route at all.  After hacking our way and climbing some more difficult sections, we finally reached the top of the Pinnacle! Not a walk in the park!

What a view! You can see from St Vincent in the North all the way to Grenada in the South. Once again our ‘camera’ does not do justice to the breathtaking vista

When we settled down for lunch, it dawned on me that I had not packed any eating utensils, so we improvised with the Swiss Army knife and a container lid (called a ‘Nicky’ in our galley as these are indispensable containers donated by Nic and Gugs Waterson).

Up there, perched all alone on that little piece of paradise – who gives a damn about the 22 thorns still sticking out of my backside! We took the tourist route down – funny that it should be exactly where Val said it would be. But it was not as exciting as my secret route, so secret that even I wouldn’t be able to find it again! How impressed I was with Val for completing the arduous journey with far less thorns in her butt.

Frigate Island Anchorage – Union Island

(Turquoise water, trade winds, mountains)

Irritation:  No fish to catch in this part of the sea

Cost of a coke:  EC$ 5