Rollicking North

The seas were calm and the wind was light as we left the harbour at Deshaies. We unfurled jib and main, but it looked as though we would have to keep a motor running to make it to Antigua in reasonable time. Then again, we were in the lee of Guadeloupe…things could change. And they did.

The wind picked up nicely when we cleared the land, and we flew north. The northeast swell was coming against us. Where it had helped us go south, it was more of a pain going north. Our incredible guests, once again, enjoyed every minute of a rather up-and-down crossing. Incredibly, we were at English Harbour by about 2:30 p.m.

The crew kindly invited the captain and first mate out for dinner, so we introduced them to Trappas, a good restaurant on the way to Falmouth Harbour. I stopped dry February to toast voyaging with friends.

Our guests were pretty much packed when we went ashore on Wednesday.We walked them over to Falmouth to see the other harbour.

Our guest berth with packing under way.

WW and David went to the museum in the Dockyard. David said he could have spent hours there.

We went back to Django to gather belongings, then went to the Galley Bar for bite of lunch. Our favourite taxi driver Donald came at 1:30 to collect the crew. Hugs, sadness, waves. We hope they will come again. (They are probably the first guests we’ve ever had who understood the head--toilet, in landspeak--and its complicated workings right from the get-go. Totally astonishing.)

The oft-mysterious workings of our head

were instantly understood by our gifted guests.

The Colour of Sand

On Monday morning, after a breakfast of coffee or tea or whatever with pains aux raisins fresh from the bakery, we set off for Grande Anse.

We walked through Deshaies, a pretty little village, this time going north (the botanical gardens are to the south).

The church in Deshaies.

One of Deshaies' charming wooden Creole houses.

A pleasant walk of about two kilometres brought us to the south end of Grande Anse, Basse Terre’s longest beach at some 1.5 km. (Guadeloupe is formed of two islands separated by the narrow Rivière Salée; the western island is Basse Terre, the eastern is Grande Terre.) The sand is described in my handy-dandy Caribbean guide book as “golden”. We decided it was cinnamon and really very beautiful accompanied as it was by well-behaved breakers adding sound and motion to the scene.

Walking the cinnamon sands of Grande Anse.

We walked its length to the northern end where there is the Caribbean equivalent of a food court. WW and the guests ordered ham and cheese sandwiches which turned out to be cardboard white bread, processes cheese slices and traces of ham all compressed to about a quarter-inch thickness in a sandwich press. Yum. I held out for accras (salt cod fritters) and salad from the place next door. I won.

Lovely surf at Grande Anse.

We walked back the way we had come. We had planned to do some grocery shopping in Deshaies, forgetting that the French islands still observe siesta—shops close from 1 to 3:30 or 4 p.m. Sigh.

We went back to the boat and WW gathered our papers. He and I returned ashore where he cleared us out. We then were able to get our groceries.

Another of Margaret's Deshaies sunsets.

Lamb and spinach curry with pulao rice for dinner. A good, fish-free night of sleep. More pains aux raisins early in the morning. We raised anchor at about 8 a.m. on Tuesday, headed back to Antigua.

Things that Go Bump in the Night

Well, not so much bump as kettle drum with arrhythmia.

None of us checked our watches, so all we know is that somewhere between Sunday and Monday, when it was very dark despite a gibbous moon, someone or something began to play a terrible tattoo on our foredeck—right over our berth. WW shot up and stuck his head out the hatch to see what was going on. 

Our guests cowered in their berth, thinking we were under attack.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Whacketa whack thwackety whackety…

“It’s a fish.”

I started for the deck to rescue the poor wee thing, but its efforts proved successful and it managed to whacketa-thwack itself back into the water.

WW reported the fish had been about 2.5 or 3 feet long (wee thing, indeed). It had leapt aboard following a smaller fish it wanted for dinner. We knew this because we found the tail end of a small fish on the foredeck in the morning. Well, I guess half its meal is better than none.

Jolly exciting. Nature red in tooth and claw. You can’t say we don’t offer the full safari experience on our island tours.

A Hill and Some Flowers

On Sunday morning, we climbed the hill from Deshaies up to the Jardin Botanique. WW and I have been there often, but it never loses its appeal. The array of orchids, hibiscus, bougainvillea and many others are spectacular. Throw in koi, macaws, lorikeets and flamingos, as well as some beautiful water features and you have a fabulous way to spend an hour or two.

David is a dab hand at the floral photography, as many of the following amply demonstrate.

A lorikeet on WW's hand having a bit of a nosh.

A Bouquet of Orchids:

A Glorious Hibiscus:

Orchid and Friends in Their Tree Home:

Bougainvillea:

A Lizard Observes the Observer:

The Extraordinary Jade Vine:

 I Dunno, but it's Very Cool:

Bambusa Ventre de Buddha (transl. by moi: Buddha Belly Bamboo):

KMH and WW with Heliconia spp. (False Bird of Paradise):

 David and Margaret with Pink Flowering Ginger:

We had a snack lunch before walking back down the hill. The Deshaies ice cream lady was there with her hand crank freezers. David and WW had fresh coconut ice cream and I bought some of her homemade accras for a dinnertime appetizer.

Sunset at Deshaies harbour.

All photos kindness of David and Margaret.

A Little Saturday Sail

We went ashore on Saturday morning so WW could clear us out and our crew could wander around Nelson’s Dockyard which they had, as yet, not really seen. Once all our papers were in order, we returned to the ship and raised our anchors. (Freeman’s Bay can have some dicey holding, so our captain has decided two anchors are better than one. Certainly, it is much easier working with two anchors when David is around to manage one and Margaret is coiling and uncoiling line. How will be manage without them?)

Chain gang: David works on the second anchor's chain.

At the mouth of English Harbour, we raised our sails and set off to the south. It was 9 o’clock-ish. A brisk 22 knot breeze from the east and a mean northeast swell saw us on our way. We averaged about 7 knots the whole way, riding 9-foot swells with swoops and slides. At the tip of Guadeloupe, where there is always wind, we saw 31 knots of wind and briefly ran a jolly 8.9 knots. We dropped anchor at Deshaies at about 3:30.

David thought this might look like I'm cooking...I'm in the galley, after all.

I am, in fact, doing exactly what it looks like: counting money.

I'm sorting through our disparate change to find all the Euros.

The crew had a blast. Margaret spent the entire day in the cockpit, watching the sea and the birds and the flying fishes. David took endless pictures of boats. It became a bit of a running joke. WW and I would exchange bemused glances and Margaret would roll her eyes as David’s cry would go up: “Look! A boat!” No kidding? Out here on the water? How can this be? Better take some pictures to prove it happened. We discovered that Margaret takes pictures of people and sunsets. David takes pictures of boats and flowers and, sometimes, scenery. And I am happily adopting their photos for these posts.

David lowering the Q or quarantine flag

which flies until the boat and crew have been cleared in.

All legal at last, David raises the French flag.

(He liked it because he couldn't get it the wrong way up.)

In Deshaies, we went ashore. While WW cleared us in, we wandered the tiny main street and looked at tourist stuff. After we were legal, we went to the wee grocery store to buy ice.

Then it was back to Django for rum punches (David and WW), water for Margaret and me (I’m doing a dry month this month—because it’s the shortest, duh), and dinner.

Rum punch, part 1: rum, sugar, lime juice, Angostura bitters, water.

Rum punch, part 2: ice.

 

Well, it's not cooking, but at least it's food.

Is someone hungry??

Engine Saga 2 Continued

With the dinghy safely slung from her davits, we motored into the harbour wall at about 10 a.m., on the off chance the travel lift would be free early. Miracles began to occur.

The travel lift was free early. 

An initial attempt to lift Django was met with failure as the straps were too short. This was quickly remedied by the installation of longer straps. David and WW rumbled about being useful. Margaret and I watched diligently.

David being useful.

Once up out of the water, Django was transported to Carl’s workshop where the business of seal replacement began. We were delighted to see Danny would be working on the job.

David descending while Django is in her slings at Carl's workshop.

“Look , Danny,” I said, “your favourite boat.”

“Yeah,” he said. He almost smiled.

“Aren’t you happy to see her?” I asked.

“The boat is happy to see me,” he said. He definitely grinned.

Consultations and ponderings while Danny deconstructs the prop.

He very quickly had the propeller off and various bits and pieces removed. Then he drained the sail drive. A creamy pink liquid poured out into a waiting bucket. “Pepto Bismol,” I said. Danny agreed. This was the  transmission fluid contaminated by sea water. Uncontaminated, it is a clear transparent red.

It does look like Pepto Bismol, doesn't it?

While Danny and his team worked, WW started scraping the other propeller. David offered to help and got a bit of aluminum to scrape the keels. He cut his finger and thought there were nails sticking out of the wood. Nope. He’d just met his first barnacle. He quickly developed a fine case of barnacle respect. Margaret, too, pitched in.

David being useful, again.

Not to be outdone: Margaret being useful.

The work was done by about 1:30 p.m. and we were back in the water by 2 p.m. We went to the fuel dock to fill our water tank. The wind was blowing hard off the dock, so we had to come around the side. All watered up and ready to go, WW went to toss his shoes into the dinghy and missed…one went overboard. There ensued a daring sea rescue with many cries of “boat hook!” Sodden but safe, the shoe was placed carefully in the dinghy with its mate.

Preparing to leave the fuel dock. 

Photo taken because Margaret like the bougainvillea.

Because it was only about 3 p.m. by now, the decision was made to run for English Harbour. After WW had cuddled with the now fully functional port engine and raised a beer to it, we headed out.

WW cuddling with his shiny happy port engine...

...and toasting its good health.

We made it in time to take our guests to the Tot and to attend the Friday evening fish fry on the lawn of the Copper and Lumber Stores Hotel. Anthea was there and gave Margaret a scopolamine patch, good for three days, to prevent motion sickness.

 Our guests continued to dazzle us with their ability to enjoy just about anything. We figured we’d wipe the smiles off their faces next day with a windy, swelly run down to Guadeloupe, patch or no patch.

Engine Saga 2 or How to Show Guests a Good Time

After rum punch on Django and a bit more boat motion than Margaret found entirely agreeable, we took our guests to the Wednesday night do at HotHotHot, with WW et al. providing the entertainment. We then adjourned to the boat where a bit of a swell wrapping itself around the reef continued to provide quite a bit of motion. Margaret took a Gravol and slept like a baby. David lay awake listening to the slap of waves on the hull and failed to find the motion soothing.

After breakfast on Thursday, we set off for Jolly with a nice breeze aft and a following sea. David and Margaret had read my earlier post about just this run, in reverse, so were having fun identifying the places I’d described. We had a fabulous run and arrived at Jolly in just two and a half hours. We went straight in to the dock where WW consulted with Carl and with the people who run the travel lift.

Django at the Jolly Harbour wall, stern view.

Django at the Jolly Harbour wall, bow view.

As had to be the case, the part had not arrived but would be in about 4 p.m. We’d have to wait till Friday. When asked about three hours of travel lift time for Friday, our buddy at the boatyard office said, “No.” This, it must be understood, is standard. Nothing can be done. Everything is impossible. That is, until you chat for a while. So we are to go in at 10 a.m. and tie up by the haul-out well and hope the travel lift can finish early and we'll have it till 1:30. That is how "no" works in Antigua.

The schedule in the boatyard office is a typical grid: columns for haul-outs by hour, rows for days of the week. Across Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are the words, “Work Hard”. Across Thursday, Friday and Saturday are the words, “Stay Cool”. There is something of a life philosophy there, I think.

Marooned, as it were, for a day, we took Django out to anchor and then went in to the dinghy dock. We caught a bus into St. John’s where we visited the market and the cruise ship dock and simply walked the amazing streets. It’s an incredible town. Our guests continue to prove interested in everything.  Even in a haul out. How fantastic is that?

Django at anchor outside Jolly Harbour.

Approaching Django at anchor outside Jolly Harbour.

Excellent guest Margaret.

Excellent guest David.

Back on board, your humble correspondent had a bit of a snooze while guests and skipper swam, then went over to the party boat De Boat to investigate. Turns out it has a bar and restaurant. Perhaps, post engine repair, we will go there to dine.

With almost no sea motion in this bay, everyone slept well. Margaret is helping WW bring up the dinghy, preparatory to heading in for haul out. l am typing. David is reading. All’s right with the world. We hope to leave for Guadeloupe tomorrow, engine permitting. The seas and winds couldn’t be nicer. Not too much of either. We plan to spend a couple of days at Deshaies, then bring our crew back to English Harbour for their departure next Wednesday.

But I must not prognosticate. 

Photos kindness of David and Margaret.

Oh Noes

Our port engine still isn’t right. WW managed to find the source of a water leak into the engine bilge, but the transmission fluid leak is more serious. Much head-down-in-dark-smelly-places activity. Diagnosis: sail-drive seal needs replacing.

How, you ask, gripped by the drama, does one replace a sail-drive seal? Ah, well. You go to Jolly Harbour and get the boat pulled out for a couple of hours while mechanically competent persons ponder and proceed. Great news for all fervent lovers of Jolly Harbour.

On Friday, WW called Carl who ordered the part. Then they tried to arrange a time for the haul out. Well, we had a birthday picnic with Pimm’s on the beach for Sunday, I was due to spend Monday and Tuesday helping friends prepare for the Tot Club’s Chinese New Year celebrations on Tuesday evening, and the next batch of Eager Crew were due on Wednesday. We mulled over WW going up with someone as crew on Monday but, given the vagaries of boat repair, we couldn’t guarantee he’d be back by Wednesday. We finally decided that taking our visitors to watch the boat being hauled would be an exciting novelty for them. (When boating, fantasy is an occasional necessity.)

We duly celebrated the Pimm’s party. Very nice with, perhaps, too much sun. We also duly celebrated Chinese New Year chez our dear friends Les and Anthea. I made the starters – dumplings and spring rolls -- and provided the dragon.

Anthea hanging Chinese lanterns in a New Yearsy spirit.

Dragon from Montreal's Chinatown. Much admired.

Charlie and Rachel at Chinese New Year

Diane, Anthea, Charlie and Rachel at Chinese New Year

Mark and Joe at Chinese New Year

Moya and Jenny at Chinese New Year

Annie and Len at Chinese New Year

Our guests Margaret and David arrived on Wednesday and turned out to be mind-bogglingly prepared to enjoy absolutely anything, up to and including watching the boat get hauled. Carl told WW the part was in Puerto Rico and he hoped it would arrive the next day. Our new engine saga was under way.