One really needs a lot more time and a better budget to “do” the Caribbean, neither of which we had at the time. But some people are lucky, or practice harder as Gary Player famously said, and so we will have a second opportunity where we are hopefully going to be more thorough and less poor, on Katlyn.
But back to Finesse. Having lightened the load on our boat, both figuratively and physically, we ambled around St. George’s and then headed north anchoring here and there for a night or two. The anchorages in the Grenadines (southern part of the Caribbean) are pristine, most memorable for me being Salt Whistle Bay on the northern side of Mayreau where a small peninsular protects one from the north east winds and a beautiful sweep of beach beckons one ashore. One can walk up to the top village and enjoy the most spectacular view across the Tobago Cays, visit a charming chapel cascading with pink bouganvilleas, and just breathe in the sheer beauty of it all.
We stopped over in Admirality Bay on Bequia, where we re-connected with our friends on Tao who we last saw probably in St. Helena…or a long time ago. We gave Mustique, island of the rich and famous, a wide berth and then spent some time on St Vincent. Here the topography is very different with steep volcanic islands dropping sharply into the ocean. Anchoring in some places meant tying a stern line to the shore as well which we were not accustomed. There are pretty hikes and waterfalls and we enjoyed picnics and swims in fresh water. Then on to Lt. Lucia, marveling at the Pitons which rise dramatically out of the sea.
Pitons at St. Lucia
We spent some time in Marigot Bay tucked in behind a spit so that one can almost not see that there is an entire marina and town within. Some stops here and there found us eventually in Sint Maarten, where there was a social whirl of new yachties to meet, and we re-connected with people we’d met previously. It was great to catch up with the Gawie and Elsa Beeslaar on Altair who we had first met in Mossel Bay, as well as find Terry and Cathy on Enigma who we hadn’t seen since Madagascar. The vhf radio was abuzz with yachties communicating, setting sundowner dates, selling stuff, trying to find stuff, trying to recruit services of yachties qualified in areas of maintenance, troubleshooting, repairing etc, (for a boat is a constant and unyielding source of frustration when it comes to these matters) and general bartering was the currency in which many of these transactions took place.
I needed a haircut so arranged this over the vhf with another yachtie who we had not yet met, for first thing the next morning, for $10. While the morning was still cool and there was very little activity ashore, she and I were chatting together while she dealt with my mop of hair. All of a sudden there was the screech of tyres on the gravely road and clouds of dust, as an aquamarine hatch back car came to a grinding halt a mere 5 metres from my chair. A crazed rasta looking man, wielding a sawn off shotgun proceeded to hold me at gunpoint at my throat, demanding money. In all my days in SA, my safety had not been compromised to this extent, and for all the time that we had been cruising when people heard where we were from, they commented on the crime rates. How ironic. Doug had forgotten to give me the $10 and so I blubbered that I had none, so he turned his attentions on the hairdresser, whose bag he had seen lying beneath the chair, and eventually made off with its contents. If it hadn’t been for a sharp witted person living above, who got the number plate the police would not have been able to track this man down. As it turned out he had robbed the grocery and bottle store the same morning.
We left for the BVI the following day as planned with my composure mildly out of sync and nerves still rattled. Apart from this experience St. Martin is a bustling hive of activity, it was the 1st international airport since Tobago, the anchorage was at the end of the runway. After the peace and solitude of most anchorages, it was very entertaining to have the underside of the Boeings nearly clipping your mast. We had a hilarious incident in which one of the water patrol men patronizingly told Dylan that he is too inexperience to be allow to drive the Rubber duck. After years of doing just that we hazarded a guess that Dylan’s experience might have better than his! Lastly we traded in our liferaft for a brand new Carib rubber duck – Best decision ever!
– Val
Captions to be added at a later stage.
Sailing Katlyn 