ISLANDS OF THE SUN
February to March 2007
The steamy heat of the Caribbean, often whipped away by the steady easterly trade winds. On theses same winds, yachts carry on their leisurely way through the deep turquoise waters, so it’s no real surprise that there are so many yachts here over the winter season, who could resist the temptation…
Grenada is almost at the end of the Caribbean chain of islands, known for the nutmeg plantations that are strewn across the island. Its lush tropical forests fringe the waters edge, whenever there isn’t a beautiful sandy beach there instead. The people from here are some of the friendliest around and they love their island.
This was the first stop in the beginning of the trip northward to the Leeward Islands, of Antigua and St. Maarten.
Tied up ‘stern to’ the dock at Prickly Pear Bay, with a very nice left hand reef break out front, and a great bar only a stones throw from the yacht. Not to bad a start this time around! I saw a little of the island by car, and can say that they love the color of the West Indies. Red, yellow and green was almost standard on a lot of the homes and gardens around the island, a passionate people I’m lead to believe.
There is a considerable amount of poverty still about, but it cannot deter the families and friends getting out on a Saturday afternoon and having a game of cricket on a marginally flat piece of land. Everyone in the local area turns out for a few ‘overs’ and drinks in the sunshine.
It had been said that Grenada was far enough south to be out of the hurricane path. This statement was re-enforced when the most recent big blow was in the 1960’s. This however was all to change in 2004, when a hurricane generated in the low-pressure equatorial area off the east coast of South America. The warning systems were in place, and local metrological experts had predicted the path of fury heading right into the southern end of the island. The 100-knot winds battered the tropical island for some time, but thanks to the warning’s not one person lost their life, although roughly 90% of the homes and buildings on the island lost their roofs. The capital town of St. George’s still shows the scars from that day, with the gaunt skeletons of the churches over looking the bay.
The owners had arrived and were comfortably aboard, it was to be four weeks before we saw them depart. The journey was to be a northerly course of island hoping up through the Caribbean chain of Islands.
Sailing around the southern tip of Grenada and into the harbor lagoon in St. Georges. The two anchors were run out, and a stern line ashore to some old piles to keep the yacht from swinging in the confined anchorage. As the engine was astern, and the chain was stripping off into the murky water, a thump was heard. The yacht lurched to port and we were all left with the ‘what the heck was that look across our faces’. It appeared that there was an old dock there and one of the plies must have still been in place, although slightly under the surface of the lagoon. This nasty piece of metal placed a nice score mark down the hull and then over the tips of the propeller. We checked it out in clearer water later, and found no significant damage, that couldn’t be fixed later in the shipyard, Lucky!
Time spent in Grenada came to an end; the sails were set and the north course adjusted to the helm. The shape of Carriacou was significantly displayed in the distance, a volcanic island born from the ocean depth, now standing proud against the harsh afternoon sunlight, as we sailed in and dropped anchor for the night.
Taking the opportunity to dive into the clear water and snorkel about is a great delight and not to be missed. The owners often had an afternoon nap, so the option was taken. The forests of coral, fish in abundance and an array of colors were a pleasure to the eye. Drifting down wind with the light current, just floating along through life, so peaceful…
Reality bites, and its back to work. Off to another anchorage for the night, and with time to head ashore and see what the locals get up to once the sun has gone down.
‘Rum’, is what's it about, a very strong brew given the name ‘Jack Iron’. I’m unsure as to why this is, but I do know that ice will not float in this concoction, and it’s able to take your breath away just as easily.
A self-inflicted throbbing head is what some of us awoke too, but the show must go on.
Moving up the Grenadines north again, to a small Island called Union. The bar here in the middle of the anchorage was very unique. It was situated atop of the coral reef surrounding the bay, the music was blaring most of the time. I’m sure it would have been an experience to have a not-so-quiet sundowner there. But as it was not the case, the anchor was hauled and off to Petite St. Vincent so the owner and his wife could re- live their honeymoon cocktail drinks, which had happened many, many years ago, at that very island. How romantic!
You could defiantly tell we were in the Caribbean when you arrive at the Tobago Cays. It is one of the highlights of the Grenadine chain, and lives up to its widely spread reputation as one of the finest reef surrounded bays. A vast array of yachts at anchor from all over the world, dinghy's filled to the freeboard limit with people covered in snorkeling gear. The reefs alive with life, ready to dazzle the next swimmer by.
20knots of breeze and the sails full and trimmed delighted the owner to see his yacht cruising along at great pace. Stopping for a brief swim and lunch then off to Bequia, the last of the smaller Islands in the Grenadine group. Settling in here for a few days, gave me half a day to explore by mountain bike. The intense sun could sap all your energy as quickly as the gradient of the hill I was cycling up would. But when your options aren’t huge for entertainment, a nearby beach bar, and quick swim can do wonders to take your mind away from the day-to-day life of yacht crew.
Refreshed and back onboard, ready to push on again from Bequia, which is famed for the boat building of yesteryears. Now they sell a miniature version ready to be shipped right to your door world wide, ingenious idea!
An early departure was in order to make it into the lee of St. Vincent for a smooth breakfast, then north again into the lee of the next island St. Lucia for lunch. Rounding the bottom end of Martinique, through the narrow channel and avoiding the coral reefs, up to a very nice dock to tie up to for the next few pleasant days. All aboard were given a day off here to explore the island, which as I found out is one of the most well looked after in all of the Caribbean. Traveling up a 4 lane highway, through the main city center, and off on an adjacent road up in to the distant hills. The winding road closed up to the vast forest on each side, the volcanic peaks looked down from high above as the rain lashed the windscreen into a mess of disorientation. Slowing as the rain eased, to have a touristy look at a few waterfalls, before the hunger pains could be dulled with some French cuisine. ‘Pelee’, watched over us whilst we ate, not the patron the restaurant by chance, but the 4500foot active volcano above us. Pele had erupted in 1902, and covered the whole town of St. Pierre in layers of ash and mud. It wasn’t so much the pyroplastic flows that killed all of the people of the town, more the extreme heat and suffocating gases that flowed down the valley with the prevailing winds. Not even the yachts at anchor in the busy port of those days could survive. Accounts of yachts on fire, with flames licking and engulfing whatever it could reach. With a force of 40 times that of the nuclear blast in Hiroshima, St. Pierre was laid to waste within minutes. The towns only survivor, by a stoke of luck for him maybe, was a man imprisoned in his cell a few feet under ground. The thick stonewalls keeping him from the heat, giving him a second chance you might say…
Walking amongst the ruins of the partially re-built seaside homes sent a shiver up my spine. It just felt like you shouldn’t be there, maybe treading on uneasy ground.

Now sailors often have the inability to pass up the opportunity of a free drink. We browsed the neatly manicured lawns and buildings of a rum distillery, seeing first hand how the cane from the neighboring fields is cut, crushed and juiced, fermented in massive vats, then in to the Oak barrels for aging. Last stop was the gift shop, for sampling, and a possible purchase. 60% proof was the highest content available, sure to put hairs on your chest! Or in my case remove a few. Noted though if this story deteriorates, you’ll know I've had my quota.
It was time to throw the lines and continue towards the Leeward Islands. Up and down with the new spinnaker, which is 30% larger than the old one. And I though the old was big, its pale in comparison to this!
Sun shining and the fishing lines set, hoping for dinner to take the line to the deep. It came as the south end of Dominica was abeam. A gutsy effort from a 40lb Long Billed Spearfish, gaffed, cleaned and ready to serve as supper.
Continuing through the day with the trades filling the canvas, and the sheets tight. We sailed around and into Le Saints. An underway deployment of the small tender, to retrieve the fishing line off a locals fishing buoy, whoops! No harm done and the anchor weighed for a day or so of shopping ashore for the owners.
Hoisting the mainsail again, and easing away across the channel to a northern anchorage off the coast of Guadeloupe. The forests and fauna from the waters edge stretch up towards the sunshine; I've never been ashore here, but have heard that the island is filled with some amazing trails, some leading up to huge waterfalls with the option to have a cleansing swim after the jungle hike, sounds very inviting.
The wind funneled, driven by the narrow valley to the east. Timoneer swung at anchor, but she was firmly set into the mud bottom; not going to drag tonight.
Pushing into a small swell, tight on the wind towards Antigua. The rain squalls kept coming and coming, the breeze built with the weather, and 40 knots displayed on the wind indicator. Ease on all the sheets, and a reef on the headsail. The owner was loving seeing his yacht pushed to its edge. I had my fingers crossed; a broken boat isn’t a lot of fun for crew.
The wind dropped off to a comfortable speed as we entered the mouth of English Harbour. But the rain kept up, and by the time the two anchors were set and the stern lines ashore, we were all drenched through, the tropics gave us all a free rinse.
English Harbour is famed for the long narrow bay, where Lord Nelson kept the English fleet during the battles for the islands of the Caribbean. Imagine the forts on either side of the narrow entrance, with cannon’s firing from above. Outside and below the Spanish, French or Dutch square-rigged galleons, broadside to the fort walls, 40pound cannons recoiling after the ignition has been lit. Officer’s yelling for a ‘reload’ as the black powder smoke lifts into the air disappearing into the distance, driven on the trade winds of the West Indies.
Staying tied up in Antigua for a few days was great fun. A few very cool bars and restaurants to visit, and a small bit of time to catch up with old friends. I slipped away for a half days kite-boarding at the north end of the island. Awesome to get back on the water and riding again, it had been way to long!
A change in guests, with the owners leaving bound to the warmth of the winter retreat in Florida. The arrival of the owner’s daughter and her family, with a few close friends, and four children in all. We had baby proofed the yacht as much as we could without making it to awkward to navigate around the decks.
On the move again, and once more surrounded by coral reefs. Neatly tucked into the flat calm anchorage behind Green Island on the southeast tip of Antigua.
This time around the West Indies were hosting the Cricket World Cup. A little persuasion to the captain and we had tickets to watch the hosting team play Australia.
A sparkling new stadium with good cricket, live music, cold beer, and a little rain. This meant that half the game was postponed till the next day. Another half day off work, and more cricket, no complaints from me. Unfortunately the Aussies demolished the home side, by a considerable margin. Nonetheless it was fantastic to get out and see the flavor of cricket in the Caribbean style.
Following a stormy day of stronger than forecast winds, we hauled the anchor and snuck out through the reef, on route for St. Bart’s, due West.
An all day sail until the shape of the French island appeared over the horizon, finishing up close to the main town, and some great snorkeling ground for the guests to explore.
St. Bart’s is to me an expensive Island, very pretty though, well looked after, and almost designed to take a little bit of cash out of your pocket. The gorgeous beaches of the northern side are decorated in fine French dining and boutiques, making it the ideal getaway for honeymooners, or guests in this regard.
With the stewardess aboard, we took the opportunity to have night dive while the guests were ashore for dinner. Stepping off the swim platform into the dark water can take a little bit of courage, but being surrounded by the darkness is an experience no to be missed. Deflating the buoyancy compensator and slinking slowly to the depths, shining the high-powered flashlights in the direction of the sea floor. The colors come alive at night. Some of the fish sleep, and don’t mind to be tickled awake again. We were swimming by the compass course, when a loom of blue light appeared in font of us. Silhouetted by the rocks, it looked like some thing out of a deep-sea-diving-adventure film. It was true; we were not alone down there. Another group of divers were experiencing the similar feeling, and enjoying the perfect visibility for taking film, and still photo’s of the reef, and life the amongst it. Incredibly enjoyable to see what the night has to offer in the underwater realm.
Time to slip to the next island of St. Maarten only 30miles away. The captain guided Timoneer through narrow swing bridge and onto her berth. It had been a long six weeks of owners and guests, and it was almost too easy to wave good-bye at the airport terminal.
It has been fascinating to visit and discover the magic of the islands of the Caribbean. Although I am reminded to remember that the journey isn’t the only reward, a well earned ‘sleep-in’ tomorrow morning. That I could settle for…