After our visit to the rain forest, we had returned the rental car, slung our hammock and had a very lazy day. I have been attempting to swim six laps around Django every day since exercise on boats is hard to come by. I think, however, I am infinitely better at hammock snoozing.
We set off bright and early on Wednesday, headed for Basse-Terre (the town). We stopped for lunch and a fabulous snorkel at Ile aux Pigeons. The Eager Crew proved invaluable as fish pot spotters, and Enn oversaw our fishing rod with admirable results: a fresh mackerel turned into a fresh mackerel seviche for lunch.
It was a lovely sail,with light airs and an almost flat sea. The only blot was the death of our mainsail, which has definitely reached the end of its cruising days. The several layers of its fabric are no longer holding together as they once did, meaning it is very difficult to haul it out of or cram it back into its furler. Thank goodness Enn was there on the last time it was hauled in, as proved a Feat of Strength. WW decided it would not come out again, except for replacement. He has been waiting weeks for a quote on a new one from the Antigua sailmakers.
We arrived at our anchorage, off a black sand beach near the Riviere Sens Marina south of Basse-Terre, late in the afternoon (as advertised) and decided to make our first foray ashore the next day. I was trying to determine the best time to try to call Sue, or her husband Jean-Charles, at one of the phone numbers she had provided. Ah well, we'd work something out.
Thursday dawned clear and lovely. WW, Enn and I became very wrapped up in a project WW and I had started back in Antigua: an awning for the foredeck. With grommet kit in hand, the two produced shade.
And WW and Enn said, "Let there be shade"...
...And there was shade.
In the midst of all this activity, a voice called from astern and WW went back to see who it might be. He returned a moment later.
"That was a message from Susan," he told us. Sue had asked her friend Linda to check whether a catamaran with a Canadian flag was anchored off the black sand beach. Linda had spotted us and swum out to let us know that Sue would be down at the beach at about one o'clock.
Something, I think was lost in translation, since the gentlemen went ashore to explore at about noon and, soon thereafter, Dana and I were hailed from the water. Sue had swum out to see us.
We agreed to meet for dinner at a pizzeria in the marina. The lads arrived back just in time to give her a lift ashore...she was due to pick up Jean-Charles from work.
Thus, when technology fails, the residents of Guadeloupe manage, er, swimmingly.
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