Debbie's blog

Locked down in Martinique...

6/19/2020

I am writing this to you from our home in France. We returned here last week after more than 3 months of confinement in Martinique. Let me begin by reassuring you that Patrice and I, and all our loved ones are safe and sound, thank God. Thus said, I will now rewind:

By the end of January, Taka Trois had reached the port of Le Marin in the south of Martinique and our original plan was to go as far as St. Martin in the Spring. However, work and taxes called us home to France for a few weeks, and when we returned to Martinque at the end of February, we decided to put her up for sale sooner rather than later, foregoing that last trip north. For many reasons, we believed the time was right.

Our plan was to finish some lingering boat-work, leave her in the hands of the broker and then travel to Trinidad mid-March for business, and on to New Jersey to be with our family for Easter. Ha! What’s that quote about the plans of mice and men ?* Enter Covid 19, followed by strict lock-down measures in France, including Martinique, starting March 17.

The rumours of potential confinement measures were widespread the week before President Macron confirmed them, and we realised that we had a short window to decide whether to stay in Martinique or go elsewhere. In the end, we trusted the advice of the experts and decided to “stay put.” The advantages were non-negligible; less risk of contagion, fairly good medical facilities in situ, excellent health care coverage for us as French Nationals, as well as ready availability of most things we might need, not to mention the benefits being on an island rich in agricultural produce and natural resources. It was the right decision.

Of course the irony that we were forced to spend another three months living onboard a boat that we had just put up for sale, did not escape us. However, being confined on Taka Trois together is something we have honed to a fine art over the past 10 years, so it was no hardship. Taka Trois has been our home for a significant part of our lives after-all, and we love being onboard.

The only decision we had to make after that was whether to anchor out in the bay of St. Anne or stay on the dock in Le Marin. Our broker had offered us a much-coveted spot on his dock, but the idea of being able to swim off the boat at anchor, and enjoy unencumbered views along with cooler breezes and no mosquitoes was very tempting...,especially as all the beaches would be closed, and it was out of the question to swim in the marina.

*The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. The saying is adapted from a line in “To a Mouse,” by Robert Burns: “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft a-gley.”

"To stay in the marina or to anchor in the bay, that was the question which haunted us in the hours before lockdown..."

Taka Trois at the end of Ponton C. The views and cool breezes made it the perfect spot.

Despite its allure, the bay was no match for being able to keep our spot in the marina; the convenience of just stepping off the dock in case of any eventuality; being walking distance to several supermarkets, a hospital, pharmacies, laundromat, and an excellent boulangerie; not to mention ample opportunities to satisfy my über-extroverted husband’s need to talk to as many people as possible in a given day—even at a distance. So in the end, that’s what we did. And again, it was the right decision.

By the deadline of noon on March 17th, we were fully provisioned, including several cases of good rosé and an ample supply of TP (PQ en français). Thankfully I remembered at the last minute to throw some treats into the shopping cart to celebrate Patrice’s birthday the next day—foie gras, confit de canard and the fixings for a chocolate cake. That meal was washed down with an excellent bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape. He was a very happy birthday boy.

As for most of us in confinement, those first few weeks were surreal. The marina in Le Marin, normally a bustling bee-hive of activity, went eerily quiet. When we went for our daily walk in the early evenings, we saw hardly anyone and could even walk in the middle of the street without fear (the lock-down rules allowed us to excercise within 1 kilometre of our residence once a day, only after filling out the required attestation--the official paperwork).

A lone fishing boat breaks the unusual stillness of the marina which is usually churning with activity

In direct contrast, whenever we went to run errands during the day, armed with our homemade masks constructed out of coffee filters (see photo at the top of the page), we were suddenly thrown in contact with too many people both inside and outside the shops. The lines were often an hour long and it was anyone’s guess what products would be sold out, calling for some creative last minute menu adjustments. No problem for anyone who has lived on a boat.

Carly and Eugene on their rooftop in Brooklyn

However, we quickly relaxed into a routine and just got on with it all; trying hard not to worry about Carly and her boyfriend, Eugene in New York--one of the epicentres of the pandemic, and Claire-Elise in the U.K. where the Covid rules have been confusing and inconsistent. Thankfully both our daughters have been able to work from home and have coped amazingly well.

What helped us enormously were the abundant daily doses of humour and encouragement that came from our friends and family via the internet, and things improved exponentially once we discovered the joys of Zoom. Claire-Elise gave me a little lesson in computer conferencing and with a zoom-pro subscription I was unstoppable. My mother’s confinement in New Jersey also improved once we had Alexa (AKA ‘Alexi’ or ‘that lady,’ as she tends to call her) installed in her home and she is now able to see us.

For your viewing pleasure, I give you a selection of my personal favorite Covid jokes and cartoons...

What turned our time in lock-down into a veritable blessing however, was the opportunity to serve the cruising community. It began with an unlikely partnership between an Englishman and a Frenchman. Patrice and Steve met as volunteers hosting the ‘cruiser’s net’—a bilingual ship to ship radio broadcast several times a week bringing essential information to sailors living on boats stranded in Martinique—more than 800 of them from all over the world at the outset of the Covid lock-down.

Steve and Patrice were not able to meet face to face until confinement restrictions eased, but their friendship grew as they became a popular double-act, doing their bilingual broadcasts, helping cruisers decipher the French lock-down regulations, and offering support and encouragement where they could. As you can imagine, Patrice was in his element.

One day in early April, Steve put out a call on the radio asking if any boats would be interested in doing an Easter Service with him and his wife Annemarie. Patrice and I leapt at the opportunity. In the end, 11 other boats, including Taka Trois, participated in a beautiful bilingual service on Easter Sunday, led by Steve, translated into French by Patrice, and included live music from Giorgio, an Italian saxophonist from the Torino Philharmonic and a reflection by yours truly.

Our little floating church ministry, dubbed ‘Under the Star’ flourished over the following months and the Sunday morning before we left, we had completed our 8th ship-to-ship Sunday worship service. It was both privilege and an incredible blessing for us to serve this wonderful community. Several more cruisers have stepped up to help out now that we’ve left, including a young woman with a harp on her boat (!), and we pray that they will be able to continue this ministry as long as possible.

Steve, Annemarie, Patrice and me at the end of lock-down.

With the easing of restrictions and the arrival of hurricane season, many boats have left Le Marin now, especially Europeans who were planning to cross back home and North Americans heading north. The ones who remain are the locals, and those waiting to head south, out of the hurricane belt, to Trinidad and Grenada. The borders there are still closed, but Grenada is now allowing boats to come and haul out if they go through a rigorous enforced and lengthy quarantine. Trinidad remains completely closed to cruisers, and will probably not open until mid-July at the earliest, causing great concern for those of us used to taking shelter there.

After a long debate, we decided to leave Taka Trois in Martinique in the hands of our broker. It was not an easy decision, but in the end it was taken out of our hands as an important appointment forced us to return home last week. It's a risk, but we had no choice in the end. Thankfully the boat is insured, and we have people we trust who will be looking after her. We fervently pray that the hurricane season will be gentle with these islands...

As we come out of confinement, and continue to adjust to a world where social distancing, masks, sanitisers and travel restrictions have become a normal part of life for the foreseeable future, we thank God for keeping us and our loved ones safe. We grieve for those who lost friends and family during this terrible time, and also for the tragic state of affairs in my beloved home country.

This is, in all probability, my last post on this blog, for we hope and pray that the boat will sell as quickly as possible. There has been some interest in her, but no potential buyer has been willing to brave the mandatory two-week confinement upon landing in Martinique to come and have a look. Those restrictions should be easing shortly...

As of May 11 confimement rules eased and we were free to go anywhere on the island

This is, in all probability, my last post on this blog, for we hope and pray that the boat will sell as quickly as possible. There has been some interest in her, but no potential buyer has been willing to brave the mandatory two-week confinement upon landing in Martinique to come and have a look. Those restrictions should be easing shortly...

Thank you for traveling with us vicariously during our years onboard the good ship Taka Trois, and also for your encouragement, prayers and support throughout. It has been quite a ride and it has been wonderful to share this experience with you.

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What We Love About Grenada

6/18/2020

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We'd be hard-pressed to answer the question which island in the Caribbean we like best, for each one has something we love. Thus said, Grenada has proved to be one of our overall favorites, and we were especially pleased to spend more than a month there in December and January. As I have already written extensively about Grenada in March 2015 (see the archives), I will let my words be few in this post and adhere to the old adage that “a picture speaks a thousand words.”*

* Henrik Ibsen first said "A thousand words leave not the same deep impression as does a single deed." After his death in 1906 this quote was plagiarized and para-phrased into what we know now.

The Town of St. George's

Patrice and I both agree that St. George's is our favorite city in the Caribbean. We love exploring its old-world charm, its bustling market, its lively port and the spectacular views from the fort.

Port Louis

This marina, just a dinghy ride to St. George's is also our favorite in the islands. Its modern facilities and conveniences are a joy to experience after being out at sea. And although we're not into super-yachts, we can't help enjoy watching the sleek beasts glide effortlessly into their berths as we (not so) surreptitously gawk while trying to catch a glimpse of their illustrious passengers--especially after we heard that Robert Downey Jr. had stepped off one last year.

Photo courtesy of C&N Marinas

The People

Beautiful smiles, friendly attitudes, fiercly nationalistic and proud is how I would describe Grenadians.

Hash House Harriers

On the subject of people, it was by joining the Grenada Hash House Harriers on four different occasions that we met many interesting and seriously fun locals. They call themselves "an enthusiastic group of “drinkers with a running problem." The hashes take place every Saturday afternoon, starting and finishing at previously designated rum shop, sports field or pasture, in a different part of the island. It is composed typically of between 50 to 370 runners and walkers of all ages, shapes and sizes. Spoiler alert: if you have never experienced a hash and are planning to do so one day, you might want to skip these pictures as they give away the "secret" loss of hash virginity ceremony.

Chocolate

Chocolate Rum Shots

I could write an entire blog post just on Grenada chocolate.The quality of the cocoa beans and the resulting product is outstanding and the industry there is taking off. We were fascinated to learn about the process of chocolate making as well as sampling (correction--gorging ourselves on) the delectable results in its many forms--chcolate bars, mouthwatering truffles), and our very favorite--chocolate rum shots at the Grenada House of Chocolate in St. Georges.

The Rivers Rum Distillery

The reason this distillery is included in this list is not because of its rum. At 155 proof, it tastes like lighter fluid. It is so powerful, it is not allowed on airplanes, although a watered down version is available in duty free, which is kind of them because they cannot make enough each year to satisfy local demand.

Rivers Distillery is given a spot here because the place is so cool. It is the oldest functioning water-propelled distillery in Grenada and the Caribbean, and it functions almost exactly like it did in the 1800s. Visiting the facility is taking a step back in time.

Carriacou

This island, just north of Grenada is one of her two sister islands. It is smaller, quirkier and simply lovely.

And...

...I should add to this list the stunning beaches, the rainforest, the lush flora, varied wildlife, the abundance of spices--nutmeg, tumeric and cinnamon, to name a few.. but enough said, and you get the idea.

Thank you Grenada for sharing your charm and beauty with us!

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I believe in miracles

1/31/2020

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As I begin writing this message to you from the marina in Le Marin, Martinique while enjoying the cool of the morning, the dawn is breaking, the ubiquitous Caribbean roosters are crowing and the boats around us glow with new light and fresh dew. Although I have been privileged to witness hundreds of sunrises from the deck of Taka Trois over the course of more than a decade, the wonder and beauty of the lastest one never fails to take my breath away, and I am filled with gratitude for the miracle that, by God’s grace, I am alive to enjoy another day.

Our arrival here last Saturday heralded the successful conclusion of part two of our float plan; that is, to get from Grenada to Martinique via Carriacou, Union, Bequia and St. Lucia before the end of January (part 1 of the plan was getting from Trinidad to Grenada by December 7th). As most sailors know, being able to adhere to a schedule is nothing short of a miracle.

Equally amazing, is that we were able to stick to the plans we had made to host three sets of 'guest crew' over the past two months. It was truly a joy to have them onboard, and we count it as no small blessing that there were no problems to speak of, with the exception of the inevitable insect bites and boat bruises (a cruising friend in Grenada calls them ‘boat kisses’) and, it appears that they are all still speaking to us despite spending a significant amount of time with us in very close quarters—a miracle indeed!

We’ve had several queries about our children recently as there was no mention of them in our annual Christmas greetings in my last post here. Rest assured, both girls are well: Claire-Elise is currently working at an early stage tech start-up in the environmental engineering industry in Southampton, England; and Carly works in educational technology product management for a publishing company in Manhatten and lives in Chinatown. We were thrilled that the girls, along with Carly’s boyfriend Eugene, were able to join us over New Year’s for a much needed, long overdue and truly wonderful family vacation in Grenada.

An account of our month-long stay in Grenada--an island, which has become very dear to us-- is in the works, but it merits more time than I can actually give right now. However, I wanted to post a brief update today (the last day of this month), in order to squeeze in a very sincere Bonne Année to you before it's to late: It is customary and even obligatory in France to send new year's greetings and thankfully we have a generous grace period until the end of January to do so. Also, since the title of this post is about miracles, I can’t resist sharing the story of a little miracle that warmed my heart and gave me a big boost of encouragement at a time when I really needed one:

The day we moved back onboard T3 last November, I was recovering from a terrible bout of flu and was feeling truly miserable. By no means did I feel up to the mammoth task of getting through the long list of repairs, chores and preparations that needed to be done within the coming three weeks. Moreover, we were disheartened over some the work that had not been done properly on the boat, and in some cases, not done at all. And I was disgusted by how filthy the boat was after her time on the hard. Nevertheless, I braced myself for what what I had to do and prepared myself to just get on with it. However, when we arrived onboard with a cartful of groceries and realized that the fridge was not working, I came undone.

Patrice valiantly tried to find someone to fix it, and was told that a certain Brendon was purportedly the “best fridge guy in Chaguaramas,” albeit somewhat difficult to reach and unreliable (and that’s saying a lot in the Caribbean where unreliability is the status quo). At that point it was already Friday afternoon, the beginning of the week-end, so there was little hope of reaching him let alone getting him to come out to us before the following work week. However, by some miracle, Patrice did manage to reach him, and he said he would try to come the next day. "Ha! On a Saturday? Fat chance," I scoffed.

That night I slept very badly and in between contemplating mutiny, I asked God for help. I know, I know, He's got much bigger problems in the world than my little boat fridge, but I was at a very low point and needed something. The next morning, Patrice checked in with Brendon again, who assured us that he would come that afternoon. We hardly dared to believe him, but sure enough, he arrived that same afternoon. Even more astonishing, he quickly diagnosed the problem and fixed it!

But here's the amazing thing; while he was working on the fridge, Brendon casually asked Patrice if we pray. Patrice answered that, yes, we pray every day. Brendon then looked at him with a big beautiful smile and said: "Well, you should know that God woke me up out of a sound sleep at 3 o'clock this morning and told me to come to your boat and fix your fridge." I kid you not—as if I could even make that up!

I hope that warms your heart as much has it did mine. With that in mind, Patrice joins me sending you our best wishes for a very happy new year. May it filled with an abundance of God's blessings, miracles and beautiful sunrises to encourage you along the way.

An assortment of Carribean sunrises from this recent trip up from Trinidad

Next up: "What we love about Grenada"

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Swan Song

12/14/2019

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As we leave the dock at Crew's Inn in Chaguaramas for the last time, we bid a fond farewell to Trinidad, the country that has graciously hosted Taka Trois for the past four years--so many wonderful memories here... Thank you Trinidad! We love you.

We’ve been back onboard Taka Trois since early November after six months away. I’m sad to say that those six months were a difficult and sorrowful time as my dearest Dad passed away on September 4th after battling a series of debilitating illnesses this past year. He was much loved and will be sorely missed.

Although Dad was a golfer at heart, I know that he really enjoyed sailing with us. As I sit here on Taka Trois writing this and reminiscing about him, I am so grateful for the times that he came to join us onboard and especially for that time he and my Mom came to surprise us when we made landfall at the end of our Atlantic crossing in Antigua, and for a very special Christmas with the rest of my family in Saint Martin.

I’m also reminded here of a quote he would wryly throw at us whenever we bought a new boat:

“The two happiest days in a sailors life are
the day he buys his boat, and the day he sells it.”

While it is true that we were giddy with excitement the day we bought each one of our three boats* (and also somewhat terrified in a “what the hell have we done” kind of way), I don’t really agree with that quote; sorry Dad. Owning our own boats and sailing them has given us unimaginable indescribable joy and there have, in fact, been hundreds of happy days--whenever we leave the dock for yet another adventure, for example and also the sheer satisfaction of a safe and successful arrival at our destination, to name just a few.

As to whether we’ll be happy when we eventually sell our beloved Taka Trois? Well, if all goes according to plan, we should be able to find out sometime in the new year. Yes friends and neighbours, we have started the process of putting her up for sale with a broker in Martinique. The decision to sell has been heart-wrenching, but after weighing all the options, we know that it is the right one. However, I seriously doubt that when that day comes it will be a happy one. I predict we will feel a combination of sadness, relief, and a profound gratefulness for the privilege of being her owners.

Before that day comes though, we will enjoy one more season of sailing; our ‘swan song’ of sorts. The general plan is to sail the boat from Trinidad to Saint Martin, with several pleasure and work stops along the way, over the course of the next few months. You’ve heard me say many times on this blog that, “a sailor write his plans in the sand,” so we’ll see how it goes.

The first step in this plan was to get the boat ready. We arrived in Trinidad early November gung-ho to get the boat and ourselves ready to go. Patrice had come down to Trinidad after my Dad’s funeral to take the boat out of the water and get the work started on a long list of repairs. He left her at the end of September in the hands of several people who promised to do the work, but as so often happens in the islands, things just didn't happen. So for the first three weeks we were there, the boat remained on the hard while the work was completed, amidst terrible heat and frequent torrential rain.
*We have bought three boats in our lifetime: Taka, Taka Two and Taka Trois—note Taka Four will be a canoe or perhaps a Volkswagen minivan.

Once the boat was finally launched in the water, we then had mere two weeks to complete the long list of repairs, chores and provisioning for our departure date of December 3—a date written deeply in that proverbial sand, along with some serious prayer, as my brother Jens, and his wife Colleen--our very competent crew for the crossing to Grenada--were booked to arrive on the 2nd.

It was a mad race to the end as there is much to do, and we kept finding new things that needed to be replaced or repaired, but we managed to accomplish what was necessary. Thankfully Jens and Colleen arrived keen and ready to exercise their newly acquired sailing skills following a sailing course they had done because we had a perfect weather window for that time--thank you God! And we left the dock less than 24 hours after their arrival.

The crossing from Trinidad to Grenada is a tricky passage of roughly 80 nautical miles which takes 9 to 12 hours depending on wind, weather, currents, and other factors. Because we prefer to arrive in daylight, 'Plan A' was to anchor out in Scotland Bay around the corner from Chaguaramas (see map below) after leaving the dock at Crew’s Inn Marina that afternoon, rest awhile and then set sail at the crack of dawn for Prickly Bay, Grenada.

It was a good plan, and I think it would have worked well if it our electric windlass hadn’t decided to quit on us (a windlass is type of winch used to lower and hoist the very heavy anchor and its long and equally heavy chain). As Patrice and Colleen were dropping the anchor in Scotland Bay, one of the windlass’ metal fittings broke (see right), quite spectacularly in a puff of smoke with metal pieces flying, and the anchor and all 50 meters (166 feet) of chain dropped in one loud fell swoop into the sea. Whoops! Miraculously no one got hurt and thankfully the chain was attached by rope to the boat, otherwise we would have lost both anchor and chain.

As that anchor fell, our spirits sank with it, and ‘Plan A' got washed out to sea. Gathering our wits, we rolled up our sleeves, flexed our muscles, and like in the old days, pulled up all that massive metal by hand—I was actually at the helm watching with trepidation and admiration. Let me tell you, it is incredibly disheartening to return to a dock a mere two hours after one has left it, especially when one has put so much time and effort into the planning, and set off in such high spirits with great anticipation...but that’s what we did. Our friends from Indigo, Kathy and Greg, who had just bid us farewell at the dock, were there to take our lines and graciously offered us condolences and encouragement. It's what sailors always do. A few beers later, we were able to take stock, laugh about it and rejoice over the fact that no one got hurt (thanks be to God).

The next morning, we miraculously got a temporary fix, and because of our short weather window and the imminent departure of our crew, we decided to risk going that afternoon. It was a mutal decision to sail straight to Grenada overnight without stopping in Scotland Bay and testing the mettle of that windlass. I know some of you may be on tenterhooks waiting to read about the next disaster, and I hope I won't disappoint you when I tell you that ‘Plan B’, went without incident, and after a beautiful crossing, well lit by the moon and milky way, and a couple of squalls to keep us on our toes, we successfully dropped the anchor at dawn in Prickly Bay. As the French say: Ouf!

Next up: "I believe in miracles", but in the meantime let us pause to thank you, our dear friends and family for reading our stories and for your encouragement over this past year, especially during our time of bereavement. We love you and wish you a joyful holiday season and all the best throughout the new year, and we thank God for His protection and many blessings.

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Boat For Sale?

5/4/2019

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Photo courtesy of Kenmore Henville, Bequia Photo Action

More than 5 weeks have passed since the day we sailed into Marigot Bay seeking shelter. The weather kept us there for four days--a greatly needed respite. In case you're wondering what we liked about the place, I'll give you 10 reasons:

There were actually 13 reasons--couldn't help myself. Two things kept us from prolonging our stay once the wind and waves became favorable again for us to sail; the ticking clock on our flights back home to France and a family situation which was calling me north. So at dawn on April Fool’s Day, we left that sanctuary and started heading back towards Trinidad.

Despite that inauspicious day’s name, our decision to leave was thankfully not foolish. The journey south went quickly and uneventfully, with not a stray rope nor pirate in sight—praise God! We stopped in Bequia, Carriacou, St Georges, Grenada and Prickly Bay, Grenada for one night respectively, enjoying the sailing, picturesque anchorages, as well as the magnificence seas and incredible sunrises and brilliant sunsets. In case that's not enough descriptive adjectives for you, I'll let our photographs tell the tale:

Four days later, we breathed a huge sigh of relief as we sailed safely back through the Bocas and shortly afterward, Taka Trois arrived at her home berth without incident at Crew’s Inn in Chaguaramas. Patti and Gary, the same friends who had cast off our lines when we left, were waiting to take our lines and hand us an ice cold beer in celebration. We gratefully accepted the help and the beer, and sent up a a prayer of thanksgiving to God for getting us back safe.

As to the question posed at the beginning of this post? While the day is certainly approaching when we will sell our beloved Taka Trois, despite all the difficulties we encountered during this sailing season, the answer we will give at this point in time is from a favorite Game of Thrones quotation: “Not. Today.”

Thanks for tuning in. I’ll be back after the hurricane season is over with at least a little more sailing and perhaps a few more answers.

Well the wind is blowin' harder now
50 knots or thereabouts
There's white caps on the ocean
And I am watchin' for water spouts
It's time to close the shutters
It's time to go inside
In a week I'll be in Old Paris
Hell that's a mighty long airplane ride

And now I must confess
I could use some rest
I can't run at this pace very long
Yes, it's quite insane
I think it hurts my brain
But it cleans me out then I can go on

*Excerpt from "Trying to Reason with Hurricane Season" by Jimmy Buffet

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From Hell to Paradise in 28 hours

4/13/2019

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I confess that ever since I got on the boat in Trinidad, I’ve been entertaining a fantasy where someone takes one look at our boat in Martinique and makes us an offer for her we simply cannnot refuse. That obviously did not happen, although we did test the waters by talking to a boat broker in the marina there.

The good news is, when we do decide to sell (and no, that decision has not yet been made), there is definitely a market for our boat. But it will take time, and that’s something we don’t have at the moment. I need to head to the States ASAP and Patrice has appointments next week in Saint Martin. We could have left T3 in Martinique (which is what we would’ve done if we were sure we were ready to sell her), but it’s unfamiliar territory for her and in Trinidad we have people we can trust to look after her while we’re away. So we’ve decided to bring her back to Crew’s Inn while we mull things over.

6 am, Tuesday, March 26, 2019: We’re up and ready to go. The wind and wave forecast is a little stronger than we would like, but we figure T3 can handle it and once we get past the strait between Martinique and Saint Lucia we know we’ll be protected. Our plan is to yellow flag it down to Trinidad stopping in Piton Bay in Saint Lucia, Bequia in St. Vincent and the Grenadines, and from there go straight to Trinidad overnight—a 28 hour journey. That would get us to Crew’s Inn by Friday afternoon (remember what I said in my last post about a sailor’s plans being written in the sands at low tide? Wait for it...).

By 8 am we’ve taken on fuel and water for the journey and we’re out of the channel ready to hoist the sails to head south (checking carefully for fishing buoys, stray ropes and all manner of nuisances, of course). The winds, as expected are 20+ knots, so we decide not to put up the main sail for this downwind journey. Patrice unfurls the head sail, however, unbeknownst to us, the port side jibsheet (rope) had lost the knot at its end which stops it from being fully released, and it breaks free, tangling itself like a crazy snake around the starboard jibsheet, whipping the boat ferociously. Meanwhile the sail is flapping wildly and the wind is gusting 25+ knots. What a mess! I’m at the helm and Patrice goes up to the foredeck to try to get things under control without getting flogged. We eventually get things under control, but not without a few bruises and lashes. Not an auspicious beginning to our journey...

We catch our breath, reset the sail and continue our journey south. By the time we hit the halfway point between Martinique and Saint Lucia, it is clear that we have largely underestimated the forecast. The swells were predicted at 2 to 3.6 meters. The waves we are being hit with are all at least 3.6 meters high and coming at us relentlessly from the side in very short intervals and the winds are gusting well over 25 knots. Consequently T3 is being tossed from side to side, corkscrewing if you will, as it tries to remain upright. I. HAVE. NEVER. BEEN. SO. FRIGHTENED on this boat. And that’s saying a lot! For 45 minutes—45 VERY LONG minutes—T3 and her captain battle the waves, while I hold on for dear life, until we finally reach the blessed calm in the lee of Saint Lucia and we breathe a sigh of relief thanking God for carrying us through.

Once again T3 showed us her mettle and did not let us down in extremely tough conditions. When we got through it, we're shaken up, our muscles are aching from the strain and we're a bit spooked, but we're ok, and the boat sustained no damage. And, because she sits so high in the water, we didn’t even get wet. We’re very proud of our girl.

I’d also like to thank the large seabird, a Brown Booby (no, I’m not making that name up), whom we nicknamed Betty, and who accompanied us throughout that passage, circling the mast, hovering at times, and then plunge-diving spectacularly to get a fish. She provided us with much-needed entertainment at a very difficult time. I’m convinced she knew I was terrified and needed the distraction.

But the day is not over for us. A few hours later, as we enter the bay of Pitons, we hear a loud thunk from under the boat and as we look back, we see what looks like a short piece of bamboo pop out from under the stern. The engine immediately takes on a strange vibration and our hearts sink with dread. Shortly afterwards, we manage to get ourselves on a mooring ball without too much difficulty (the reverse is functioning, thank God) and once again, Patrice dives below to have a look… Yep, we’ve picked up another line….(sigh).

Thankfully this time, it’s wrapped around one of the rudders (T3 has two, one on each side) and comes off easily and there appears to be no damage, but still…ENOUGH! (When I tell this story to our cruising friends, they thank us for our service in clearing the ocean of stray lines and buoys for them—a service, I must inform them, we are no longer willing to continue).

At this point I’m ready to put a very large FOR SALE sign on the boat and jump ship. However, we’re not exactly in a place where that can be easily done, so for the moment, I’m stuck. I wish I could say that the rest of the night was as idyllic as a Caribbean anchorage should be, but the winds were blowing a stink and it was rock and roll all night long (and not in a good way). While we were having dinner, a large sailboat suddenly drifted within a few feet past us! They had lost their mooring and were set adrift (yeah that happens sometimes). Thankfully they did not hit us and there was a full crew onboard taking care of the situation.

By morning, the winds are still gusting fiercely. We had not slept much and were so exhausted that we knew that we needed to take shelter somewhere until this weather front passed. Cruising friends had recommended Marigot Bay, just few miles north of us, which means back-tracking as well as scrapping our original float plan, but we had no desire to risk any more dramas on the high seas.

It was a good decision, and by noon we are anchored in a sheltered cove on a lagoon as a still as a lake—bliss! Moreover, we decide to take a mooring belonging to a local resort which gives us pool privileges at the hotel along with all the amenities.

You are kindly informed that the Captain and Crew of Taka Trois have gone AWOL on an enforced much-needed vacation, doing the things that normal people do on a Caribbean vacation (sipping umbrella drinks by the pool, for example), until the wind and seas calm down.

Next up: Boat for Sale?

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Trials, Tribulations and Ti-Punch in Martinique

3/31/2019

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They say that “a sailor writes his plans in the sand at low tide.” When we got to Martinique, we hoped to spend a maximum of a week there to get the work done; which would give us the time to sail leisurely south back to Trinidad, with a few stops along the way to relax and enjoy a proper vacation. Ha! Like many things that involve sailing, that plan got washed out with the tide and we wound up spending three challenging weeks here struggling to get the necessary work done on the boat while managing the business and monitoring a difficult family situation from afar. I’m not looking for sympathy here, I’m just tellin’ it like it is folks.

I wish I could say that we got all the boat issues solved, but despite endless, desperate begging to get workmen to come and have a look during what was high season in the marina, (bad timing on our part), followed by a steady stream of workers parading through our boat, we only got a fraction of the issues solved and the three major problems; the generator, water maker and wifi booster, remain unusable. Zut alors! We did eventually get a diagnosis, which means we now know what is wrong and can order the necessary parts, but the work will have to be done back in Trinidad as we are out of time here

On a positive note, we did get few minor things on the list fixed as well as a few new ones including the damage done to Taka’s underside by yet another evil rope from a fishing buoy that we picked up on our way from Sainte-Anne to the marina in Le Marin, URGGH! Thankfully the engine did not quit on us when it happened, but we lost the ability to reverse and that’s not good. It’s bad enough this darn boat doesn’t have brakes, but not being able to reverse, well that’s just adding insult to injury.

Thanks to a very savvy dock master’s help, we managed to ease onto a wide berth next to the fuel dock without hitting anything along the way, except for a channel marker—oops! Although, it's not the most restful place in a marina, it's a great place to meet people, especially for an extrovert like Patrice. and we did have a nice view of the old marina and town from our cockpit.

Once we were secured to the dock, Patrice put his mask and dove below the boat to see what we had picked up. and this is the horror he saw under there:

Needless to say, he was unable to get it off; in fact he didn’t even try. This was a job for the professionals. So yet another diver was dispatched, and although he was able to get the thing off (as well as the remnants of the other rope we had picked up back in Piton Bay!), the bad news was, it had caused damage to the seal on our sail drive. Malheur, that meant getting hauled out onto the hard—and being on the hard is well, always hard. We were then also able to have a temporary fix for our bow thruster protection plate which had been ripped off the hatch from the Pitons rope.

No worries friends, interspersed amongst these trials and tribulations, we were still able to enjoy some of the delights of this beautiful island, as well as fun times with good friends. It was more than enough to keep us going. Allow me to share a few of the highlights with you:

Ti-Punch chez Martine in Sainte-Anne

Sandwiched around the time T3 spent at the dock in Le Marin and on the hard, we were at anchor in the beautiful bay of Sainte-Anne. It was truly balm for the soul.

On our second visit out there, we got company. Three of the boats from Crew's Inn, our marina in Trinidad, had arrived. As always, where there are cruisers in the Caribbean, there is rum. Every island has its preferred libations and in the French islands, Ti-Punch (emphasis on the word ‘punch’) is the favorite. It’s a powerful short drink made with rhum agricole, cane syrup and a slice of lime.

Photo courtesy of the internet

In Saint Anne, one of our favorite places to enjoy this drink is chez la Martine, a hole in the wall located in a little side street. At sunset the street gets closed off to traffic and Martine sets up tables and chairs to serve Ti-punch with her excellent salt fish and shrimp accras (fritters). It was the perfect spot for a Crew’s Inn reunion and we found that as we shared war stories with these understanding friends, while sipping our ti-punch, our problems became less traumatic--even funny-- and began to fade into just more stories to add to Taka Trois' history.

Saint Patrice Day Party onboard Taka Trois

Despite his attempts to convince me otherwise, my husband is not a saint—at least not yet, as far as I know…But his name “Patrice’ is French for Patrick and March 17, is Saint Patrick’s day, his name day. Name days or jours de fête (en français) are celebrated. It’s as good a reason as any other to throw a party, and we were in need of some fun, so we invited the Crew’s Inn gang for an apero dînatoire (drinks with heavy appetizers) onboard T3. They did not disappoint and it was the perfect warmup for Patrice’s birthday, which was the next day, which we celebrated with a trip to Sainte-Anne’s and a special dinner onboard. He was a happy boy.

Hiking in Southern Martinique

This was not our first time to Martinique. In fact we know it quite well and over the years we have come to appreciate this beautiful island. So much so, that when I’m asked which island I prefer in the Caribbean, I always say Martinique. That’s partially because it’s part of metropolitan France and has all the advantages and infrastructure that come with that privilege, but also because it’s a striking volcanic island with good sailing anchorages, the most idyllic beaches imaginable, and wonderful hiking.

Sadly we didn’t have time to do much exploring or hiking this time, but we did squeeze some walks around the marina area, a sunrise hike up to Mont Gommier to take in the view of Sainte-Anne and Le Marin, as well as a few hikes along the southern coast, including a ten-mile trek with a group of cruisers one Saturday: From Sainte-Anne, we cut across the island to the east coast through sugar cane fields and then down to the cliffs at the bottom tip of the island, and finally back along the coast where we joined the week-end revelers at a beach hut serving grilled poulet boucané and ice cold Lorraine (local beer)—much needed sustenance to complete the last few miles.

Wine Shopping, Tasting, Shopping…etc.

T3 is a French boat and for those of you who know my husband well, you know that where there is Patrice, there must be wine. During much of our time in Le Marin on the dock, Patrice was on the hunt for wine to replenish our sadly diminished stores. Dismissing the expensive wine shops, we scoped out the local supermarkets, and with each outing, Patrice would pick a couple bottles of rosé or red to test. The winners were added to the growing stock in the bilges—ballast, if you will.

On the day that T3 got hauled out, our friends Ann and Steve rescued me from the dockyard with their rental car and took me out on a shopping excursion. Yes, I brazenly abandoned the skipper in the dockyard (with his blessing, I should add). Our main stop was a giant Carrefour where I went on a mission to stock my French galley with Amora Dijon mustard, Maille cornichons, verveine herbal tea, fleur de sel, pâte feuilleté, confit de canard, and fromage, to name but a few necessities.

While I was there, Patrice had asked me to check out the box wines. No, friends and neighbors, we are not ashamed to admit that we do indeed drink wine from a bag in a box. The trick is to find the right one and I confess that when I’m faced with a mammoth display of wine in a hyper market, I am hopeless at making a choice. Thanks to i-technology however, help is just a touch away. With a few flicks and clicks, I sent a picture of the wine display to my personal wine consultant in the dockyard and within minutes I had a verdict.

A selection of the wine display from Carrefour. Wine aficionados can immediately see that the selection is disappointing. Nevertheless, from this picture, Patrice managed to find the only halfway decent box of plonk on the shelf.

At that point, we thought we were done buying wine, but the next evening we were served an excellent rosé appropriately called Chateau des Brigands, that friends had picked up from a local wine merchant. It was love at first sip and we could not possibly leave without getting a few bottles for our collection. It’s a sign of a beautiful friendship when they offer to pick up a case or two for us on their trip back there the next day AND deliver it to our boat right before we left Martinique. Ah, life is good after all..

Wine delivery thanks to the jolly crew of Receta--our partners in wine. Merci!

Up next: From Hell to Paradise in 28 hours

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It’s Like Riding a Bike (we hope...)

3/25/2019

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It has now been almost four years since we sailed Taka Trois from Saint Martin to Trinidad. Patrice had several consulting projects he was working on there, so we decided she would make a good base for us to live and work from when we were there. Equally, if not more important, Trinidad is a relatively safe place for a boat to wait out the hurricane season. Case in point, if she had been in Saint Martin in September 2018, we would have surely lost her to a little ‘storm’ called Irma (for details about that you can read an account I just posted on the blog of what I saw when I visited the island 7 months after the hurricane).

When we arrived in Trinidad, we never dreamed she would stay at the dock for four years, but life intervened, and it was just not possible for us to sail her, so she became our houseboat. However, as we’re not getting any younger and a sailboat needs an owner to sail her, the time has come for us to do something about her.

Unfortunately we cannot afford to take off on another sabbatical year or even an extended trip at this point in our lives, and truth be told, we are not sure whether sailing really suits us anymore. However, selling the boat would be a real wrench, as sailing has been a big part of our life for over 20 years; and Taka Trois has been our home, off and on, for 10.

To be honest, part of me is fed up with the work, the cost, and the ENDLESS problems that a boat brings, but I confess that even though I am no longer very excited about sailing, I have no peace in my heart about selling her. Patrice aptly stated it would be like losing a limb, but has admitted that he is weary of the responsibility of having a boat and all that it entails as well.

Since the decision is not clear to us as of yet, we decided to take her out of mothballs this year and try to do some sailing to test whether or not this lifestyle still appeals to us—and it is indeed a lifestyle. Patrice thought he could manage his work commitments from the boat for a month or so, which would give us enough time to sail up to the French island of Martinique and back. T3 is a French boat and there are repairs we hope to get done there and boat parts we need to buy--not to mention confit de canard and wine.

If it turns out we really don’t want to sail anymore, Martinique would be the perfect place to start the process of selling her. T3 is an RM, made by Fora Marine in La Rochelle, France and RMs are generally highly regarded, even sought-after, in the French sailing community (for more about T3 see "About the Boat" under the section "Taka Trois"). And if we decide not to sell her, then we would have had the time to assess options and come to some sort of plan for her future role in our life.

It took 6 weeks to get her sail-ready again, which were fraught with fits and starts, a lot of back-breaking work and the usual song and dance with local workers. Miraculously we managed to get the essentials done. Tune in to my blog to find out how we fared...

On March 2 we finally took off from the dock at Crew's Inn, Chaguaramas, Trinidad for the first time in four years. We were excited, but filled with trepidation. Sailing is always a risk, especially on a boat that hasn’t sailed in a while, and with a crew that is out of practice and has a few more…shall we say, ‘aches and pains’ than the last time they sailed--one of whom (me) gets seasick and generally needs about 3 days or so to get ‘sea legs.’

Moreover, the first part of the passage north from Trinidad to Grenada is notorious for being exceptionally difficult—it’s a challenging point of sail to begin with and the wind, waves and currents in that strait are often quite rough (we have one cruiser friend, a seasoned sailor, who dislikes that passage so much, she lets her husband sail their boat up to Grenada every year and flies up there to join him after he has crossed). And then, there’s the risk of pirates…no joke.

Chaguaramas, the place where Taka Trois has been residing these past years, is about 8 miles from Venezuela and is reportedly #2 (after Somalia) for piracy in the world. While things have been calm in recent years, with only minor incidents, the danger still exists. So a passage out of Trinidad on a boat has to be carefully planned.

Given our apprehension about sailing again, and especially for this particular passage, we decided it might be a good idea to have an extra hand onboard for this journey. So we invited Charisse, a friend from Trinidad, along for the ride. She has experience sailing, does not get seasick and gets along well with both of us. It was a good decision. She was a delight to have onboard, and gave me breathing space (and someone for Patrice to talk to), while I battled to keep my cookies down—especially the first couple of days.

What follows is an account of our 6 day journey to Martinique. We decided to go there directly; sailing during the day, just stopping at night to anchor and rest, yellow-flagging* it along the way. We figured once we got everything done that needed doing to the boat up there, we would have a better idea of how much time we had left to enjoy sailing south to get back Trinidad by the beginning of April.

* Yellow flagging is a common practice amongst cruisers to gain safe harbor for the night without clearing customs. Until clearance is obtained, a boat must fly the yellow"Q" flag and signals the authorities that “we know that have not gone ashore yet to clear customs, but we either will do so, as soon as humanly possible, or in our case, move on shortly.” The latter part is bending the rules a bit, but is generally, although not always, accepted by the local authorities.

Day 1 (March 2): Chaguaramas, Trinidad to St. Georges, Grenada

It’s still dark when Patrice and I get up and start going through our pre-departure check list and last minute preparations. At 7 am sharp we’re ready to go. Patti and Gary, cruising friends from our dock kindly rouse themselves from their berths to wish us farewell and along with one of the marina dock hands, help us slip our lines. Taka Trois leaves the dock like a gracious lady without incident (big sigh of relief).

We motor past the sleepy dockyards on our way out of Chaguaramas to the Bocas, a tricky narrow passage that will lead us out of the bay into the Caribbean sea. We put the main sail up just before entering the Bocas which, much to our relief, goes up easily and in no time we’re through with no problem. We motor-sail east along the coast to Macaripe, beating the waves uncomfortably to get a good point of sail, and to get as far away from Venezuela and the potential dangers that lurk there before pointing north.

Farewell Chaguaramas

When we finally turn north, the wind takes our sails and a rainbow appears in the sky above to send us off. I take this an auspicious sign and a wink from God that all will be well. Captain Patrice is beside himself with the joy of being back sailing. Nevertheless, until we get past Hibiscus—a gas rig in the sea north of us, which marks the point at which one is usually out of the range of danger, we’re on high alert.

At his point I am feeling queasy (stage 1 of seasickness for me) and very sleepy (stage 2). To avoid 'stage 3' (you don't want to know about that one), I decide to go down and try to sleep it off in the Captain's berth—aka ‘the coffin’—a very narrow, but comfortable bed right next to the chart table. I am comforted to know that Charisse will help Patrice if needed and fall into a deep sleep.

What seems like minutes later, Patrice wakes me up. A pirogue* has been spotted and is heading towards us! We are not armed except for a flare gun and my trusty baseball bat, which I sincerely hope I will never have to use as it would mean someone would have gotten close enough for me to hit. Thankfully, the pirogue turns out to be harmless and doesn't come any closer to us—just a couple of guys out fishing perhaps, thank God. At this point we are past the rig, and we pick up an excellent sail point and we are cruising fast, which for a sailboat like Taka Trois is 10 knots or about 20 km an hour.

* A pirogue is a term for various small open boats, particularly dugouts and native canoes mainly used for fishing. Modern day pirogues are usually equipped with powerful outboards and can go very fast.

Patrice heats up a couple of slices of pizza we bought from the Crew’s Inn pizza place the day before for our lunch and then I go back to sleep again. When I wake up, it is late afternoon, Grenada on the horizon and I am feeling much better—not completely over this yet, but I'm able to get up and enjoy the ride while sipping gatorade and clutching my bag of ritz crackers and ginger nut cookies—don’t ask. Let’s just say that all sailors with seasickness have their own particular/peculiar way of dealing with it.

My remedy for queasiness is Ritz toasted crackers, ginger nut cookies and gatorade whereas my friend Ann prefers pretzels. Hey, whatever keeps the cookies down (pun intended), right?

We arrive off of St. George's, Grenada just after sundown which means anchoring in the dark—something I HATE doing—URGGH. Patrice manages the anchor, I am at the helm and poor Charisse is caught in the middle relaying our shouts at each other. It is never a pleasant thing.

Once the hook is down, we pat ourselves on the back and crack open our traditional arrival beer in celebration. Ouf! I serve up the pot of chicken stew I had made before leaving—perfect comfort food for the end of a very long day and we sleep the sleep of the dead—yes, even I, who had slept for least four hours of the journey slept soundly (sleep induced by seasickness does not count).

Day 2 (March 3): St. George, Grenada to Chatham Bay, Union Island

We're all up before dawn nursing aching muscles from our exertions the day before—ok, I admit, Patrice and Charisse have the lion’s share of it as I spent a good part of the journey sleeping. As we watch the sun rise over Grenada, we suddenly realize our anchor is dragging…it’s alarming, but it does happens sometimes… Thankfully we are anchored at the back of the pack of sailboats in the bay and therefore not at risk to hit anyone, but still. Breakfast is a hurried affair and before long, the anchor is up, with only a bit of shouting and we’re on our way.

It's another crackers and ginger nuts day for me as we have a terrible sail beating upwind to Union Island. Thankfully I don’t need to go down to the coffin—an improvement over the previous day. Lunch is leftover pizza again, but out on the high seas, I promise you, it tastes amazing.

As we cruise past Grenada, a beautiful 'J' boat--a classic-- overtakes us. Truly an incredible sight to behold.

We arrive in Chatham Bay, Union Island around 4:30 in plenty of time to anchor in daylight—thank God—Patrice and I much prefer shouting at each other during the day. It's a bit late to swim, but it's nice to relax a bit and enjoy our welcome beer as the sun slowly sinks down. We watch a beautiful five mast boat set sail into the sunset from the bay, while playing a jaunty tune from its decks—a bit surreal, but lovely all the same.

Of some concern; a customs and immigration boat arrives in the bay and menacingly circles us, like a shark, and sternly informs us that they will be back in the morning to deal with us. We point to the yellow flag and tell them we'll be on our way early in the morning, but they take no heed. Hmmm…

I serve up kale salad and heated up boeuf bourguignon from the freezer with parsley potatoes, but my lovely meal is rudely interrupted when we realize we're dragging AGAIN! This time, we’re coming dangerously close to Indigo, the boat nearest to us whose owners, Kathy and Greg, are friends of ours. Because we want to keep them as friends, and obviously avoid crashing into anything at all times, the food is pushed aside and once again, we’re anchoring in the dark…(sigh).

Day 3 (March 4): Chatham Bay, Union Island to Chateaubelair, St. Vincent

We’re taking no chances with the threat of that customs boat returning and we hightail it out of there before sunrise. Today’s point of sail towards Saint Vincent is much easier and therefore so much more enjoyable. I am now almost fully functional with nary a cracker in sight.

Saint Vincent, a beautiful island with an active volcano, has many lovely anchorages. Sadly, over the years there have been many ‘incidents’ with cruising boats and locals so we are apprehensive. Ironically, this is where much of the Pirates of the Caribbean was filmed and it would appear that the pirate tradition continues today. Nevertheless, we had been assured that the times, they be a changin’ and we have several acquaintances who assured us that it is safer now. We decided it was worth the risk as it would mean getting into our anchorage early for a change.

Our first thought was to anchor in Cumberland Bay, but after giving it a drive-by, but we quickly realize that we would have to anchor and tie ourselves to a tree to be secure, so we decide to move on to Chateaubelair, the next bay north. However, before leaving Cumberland, Patrice discovers that there is wifi in the bay and then and there, a new sport is born: You might have heard of trawling for fish? Well, we now trawl for wifi. Yes, friends and neighbors, we unashamedly circle around the bay checking our mail texting as fast as we can. Before you roll your eyes and judge us, it has now been 3 days without internet—just give that a try sometime and see how you fare.

Chateaubelair was immediately appealing to us and we were graciously assisted by Julian, a charming young man in a pirogue, who not only guided us to a prime anchoring position, but procured some ice cold beer to supplement our diminishing stock (my fault as Chief Provisioning officer and I am acutely aware that this is a punishable offense). Our anchorage is divine—just off on the Eastern half of the bay below a steep incline filled with palm trees. Moreover, as there are only two other boats in the bay, we more or less had the place to ourselves.

We take a swim off the boat and while Patrice and Charisse nap below, I doze and read in the cockpit fending off the local vendors, who gleefully row out to us attempting to sell us their wares. The most persistent of the lot, a garrulous, simple fellow, named Boy Boy in a rowboat, manages to get my attention. He’s selling produce from his garden, offering to take our trash and has a long list of things he tries to beg from us. I give him a juice box and buy a few bananas and a coconut from him. He’s hard to get rid of, but harmless and scurries away when I firmly tell him I have to make dinner now and he needs to go.

Despite the beauty of our anchorage, it was a difficult night. Squalls buffeted the boat all night which meant we had to keep the hatches closed. As a security measure, we had of course locked up the boat so there was no air. Thank God for our fans, but it was still stifling.

Patrice woke up regularly to check on things and in the middle of the night, Charisse woke us convinced that someone was trying to steal our outboard. Thankfully it was all much ado about nothing, simply a loose line clacking on the side of the boat, but in the middle of the night everything seems so much more dramatic.

Our beautiful anchorage in Chateaubelair

Day 4 (March 5) : Chateaubelaire, St. Vincent to Pitons Bay, Saint Lucia

We wake up a little out of sorts after our busy night, but get underway quickly aiming to get to our next anchorage earlier so that we could enjoy a full afternoon at anchor. It’s a short energetic sail past the stunning scenery of the northern part of Saint Vincent through the strait to the southwest Saint Lucia

The good news is, I’ve now got my sea legs and even make us grilled cheese with tomato for lunch along the way since we were finally out of pizza.

We arrive at Les 2 Pitons, undoubtedly one of the most magnificent anchorages in the Caribbean, just after lunch. Because the place is so deep, we need to pick up a mooring ball, but there is always an enterprising local zipping around in a pirogue offering to help. We take advantage of the services of one friendly fellow and after being guided to a spot, within minutes we’re set—SO much easier than anchoring, thank you very much.

As is his habit, Patrice puts on his mask and snorkel to check that all is well below with our mooring and the boat. Malheur! It appears that our bow thruster hatch is broken (one more thing to fix when we get to Martinique) AND we have picked up a piece of black nylon rope that has wrapped itself around the engine prop. It’s a miracle that the engine continued to function for us. Patrice does his best to unravel it, but it’s so tightly woven he really needs to dive with tank of air to do the job properly, which we don’t have.

We decide to wait until morning and pray that it might miraculously loosen itself during the night. I try to cheer him up and cook up a special meal; greek salad and roasted garlic chicken thighs with rice and tsatiki washed down with one of our last bottles of wine--must get to Martinique ASAP to replenish our supply…

Day 5 (March 6): Piton Bay, Saint Lucia to Rodney Bay Saint Lucia

Unfortunately, our prayers for the rope to dislodge itself were not answered. Both Patrice and Charisse valiantly have a go at untangling it with a knife between their teeth (not really, but I thought that sounded good), but it cannot be loosened--merde!

I make a plea on the VHF to the boats at anchor for a diver and a Swiss guy on a catamaran responds with the telephone number of a local diver, Peter. We call and shortly afterwards, Peter and Paul show up—how delightfully Biblical! $80 and 2 beers later, it's dislodged. Now we’re really in trouble though… we only have 3 beers left in the fridge. Thankfully our next stop will be Rodney Bay which has lots of facilities. We plan to check in to customs there and moor up to a dock. Sadly, Charisse will be leaving us there, not to escape us (we hope), but to catch a flight back to Trinidad and get back to work, so today will be our last day with her.

Peter and Paul to the rescue.

As soon as we are free from grip of the evil black rope, we’re on our way. I must mention how much pleasure we took from this anchorage spot. The stunning natural beauty of the place is absolutely breath-taking and it was heaven to catch our breath for awhile and have a bit of time to read, cook a leisurely meal and even crack open the coconut I got from Boy Boy and roast its flesh for a snack.

Three hours later, after a short, but very sweet sail we arrive at Rodney Bay. Mooring was easy and made so much more enjoyable, by the presence of, Pat and Jim of Capers, friends from our marina in Trinidad, who had seen us coming in on the AIS and decided to surprise us. I had forgotten the incredible joy and relief and ensuing high that comes with arriving in a harbor and the boat finally coming to a safe stop.

While the captain goes to check us in, Charisse and I hurry to local bar to get Wifi and catch up with the world while downing a couple of ice cold Piton lagers. Not sure what it says about me, that my first stop on land in 5 days is a bar… We then treat ourselves to a blissfully long hot shower and an excellent meal out.

Day 6 (March 7): Rodney Bay Saint Lucia to Sainte Anne, Martinique

After a leisurely last breakfast with Charisse, some boat chores and a quick stop for beer, bread and bleach (as well as a few surprises for Patrice’s upcoming birthday in the gift shop), we bid farewell to Charisse and the crew of Capers.

Charisse, already back at work in the marina café before taking her plane back to Trinidad. We will miss her.

The local predictions for a small tropical wave are correct, and we experience some nasty squalls that shake us up while crossing the strait between Saint Lucia and Martinique, but they wash the boat and sails for us nicely so we can’t complain.

By early afternoon, we are securely anchored off of Sainte Anne, one of the most popular, but thankfully, largest anchorages around, so there is plenty of space for everyone—and there are a lot of us out here. A turtle pops its head out of the water off the stern to say hello and God sends us the blessing of another rainbow to welcome us to a safe place (with wifi) where we can stay put and rest for a while, and Patrice can work remotely. The journey is complete and we are content.

Sailing, as it turns out is a little like riding a bike. Once you get back on, it’s a little wobbly at first, but you realize you haven’t forgotten how to do it.

Next Up: “Trials, Tribulations and Ti-Punch," the account of our extended stay in Martinique. Stay tuned.

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Meeting Irma, April 3, 2017

3/21/2019

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With winds up to 185 mph and a 20 ft storm surge, hurricane Irma, was the strongest storm ever recorded in the open Atlantic region and the first Category 5 hurricane on record to hit the Leeward Islands. St. Martin, barely visible to the far left of the image, took a direct hit and suffered catastrophic damages.

We began our love affair with the island of Saint Martin in 2003 when my husband, our two daughters and I chartered a boat there and sailed around its spectacular shores. More recently, we have lived and worked on the island for at least part of the year since we arrived there on our sailboat, Taka Trois, in 2013. Our boat now resides in Trinidad and until last year we were renting an apartment there. In April 2017, we invested our retirement capital in a condominium by the sea in Marigot on the French side.

Thankfully neither my husband nor I were there when Irma hit. He has returned to the island several times since then for work, but I only went back seven months later this past April. What follows is an account of what I saw, heard and felt…

Our plane descends the final distance from the clouds and we skirt along the tropical sea which is still, despite everything, an impossibly beautiful shade of turquoise blue. I am feeling a mounting anticipation and dread of what I’m about to see. Suddenly we get a glimpse the infamous Sunset Beach bar—too fleeting to assess its state however—and we touch down.

While the plane taxies along the runway, the first evidence of Irma’s handiwork comes into view: Where there used to be a long fluid line of hotels, condos and eating establishments along the beach that lines the runway, there are now gaping holes and jagged edges. Some buildings miraculously seem unscathed, others have plastic sheeting covering their roofs and others, including a well-known brothel called Bada Bing, are gone.

As the plane turns, I get a look at Simpson Bay which looks ‘normal’ until I catch sight of the carcasses of dozens of boats, some crashed just inches from the road, others floating aimlessly in the bay, denuded, de-masted and/or upended. Patrice says that the worst of it has already been cleared away and he is amazed at the progress made in clearing the runway and roads of mountains of sand and wreckage.

The old terminal building has been condemned and is shielded from our view as we arrive at an immense, tent-like marquee structure, which serves as the arrivals hall. It’s hot as Hades, but efficiently run, so we are out in no time. Diana and her young daughter, members of the lovely family that runs the car leasing service we have been using since 2010, and who lost everything to Irma, are waiting for us with a car. Patrice is relieved to see that it has all its windows intact and doesn’t smell foul—a first in the four times he has been back since Irma.

Perhaps I’ve watched too many Marvel action films, but as we tour the island over the next few days assessing Irma’s effect on Saint Martin, I have the impression that a malevolent giant went wild on the island; stomping on some structures and thereby obliterating them completely, smashing others with a mighty fist, ripping off roofs, twisting giant girders into ghastly shapes, poking holes into windows and concrete walls, and effortlessly flinging cars, boats, containers, and even a mammoth spiral iron staircase hither and thither. The monster did a good job. Estimates say that 95% of the island was destroyed. Not a single structure was left untouched and not a single person was unaffected.

Estimates of the death toll vary ridiculously, ranging from 11 to 6000. Locals all agree that the true number is over a thousand, many of whom were probably illegal immigrants and therefore without official records, but the number was not made public by the authorities, presumably to avoid a quarantine. Rumor has it that the bodies were put in containers and dumped out at sea. Is it the truth? I’m not sure, but I am heartsick to think that there are people in the world who will never know what happened to their loved ones on that terrible day.

Seeing the damage seven months after the hurricane is one thing, but hearing the stories of those who lived through it is another. Everyone we met was more than willing to talk, almost desperate to do so, and their emotions varied from tremendous relief and gratitude to lingering shock, full-blown depression and grief, as well as anger and bitterness over the terrible looting which took place in the aftermath, and the slow response from the emergency relief services and police. Here are a few quotes from friends and acquaintances who lived through it:

“I was sure I was going to die.”

“We lay huddled under a mattress in the stairwell for hours and hours.”

“The noise, I’ll never forget the terrible noise of that storm…”

“Sitting in the basement of our house, it felt like we were in an airplane going through the worst turbulence ever.”

“The entire house shuddered and groaned and we watched enormous cracks appear in the ceiling and walls.”

“Our friends, a family with young children were encouraged to leave their home and go to a hotel. The roof right over their heads in the hotel was blown off and they barely escaped alive. Incredibly, their own house remained largely intact, so they would’ve been safer there. Who knew?”

“The atmospheric pressure was so intense, I’ve had problems with my vision, balance and inner ear ever since.”

“We lost everything.”

“They came into our houses as soon as the storm abated wearing hoods, threatening us with clubs and guns, taking everything they could carry.”

“We’re alive, that’s what counts. The rest is just stuff.”

As I listened to these accounts, I was moved to tears each time and although I am relieved not to have lived through it, strangely I have a twinge of regret that I wasn’t there with them—I had the same reaction after 9/11 and other residents who weren’t on the island during the hurricane feel the same way.

While sitting on the beach, by our residence, as I looked out at that idyllic, now peaceful sea, I could not even begin to imagine what it must’ve been like at the time. I am repeatedly haunted by the video of the Beach Hotel where waves came crashing through the lobby: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2E9VW04Scps, and am horrified to think of what it must’ve been like at our building right next door.

Thankfully our apartment complex survived and is largely intact. The balconies and the roof held fast, but all the air-conditioning units were blasted off the top of it and the gate and fencing were swept away. The residence’s pool is disgusting, full of debris and rancid water. I was tortured by mosquitoes during my stay, which were probably bred in there.
The ground floor on the ocean side of our building sustained the most damage where, like the Beach Hotel, the ocean broke through and ravaged the contents of the apartments on that level.

Our apartment is livable, thank God, but the walls and ceiling have serious water damage and the bathroom window was blown out, causing the ceiling to cave in.

For those of you who know the island, here’s a brief update on some of our usual haunts: Most beaches are now functional and largely clean of debris, but broken glass is still a hazard. The ocean floor continues to spit out what Irma threw in—a mattress floated ashore the first day we arrived—and residents are quick to dispose of it.

I wept when I saw that Layla’s beach bar and restaurant, one of our best-loved places on the island, just down the street from us, was utterly destroyed. Pierre, its owner is looking for a new property—as far from the sea as possible this time!

In Marigot, all the docks of the marina royal and Port Louis were destroyed and most of the boats were damaged beyond repair, but the protective jetty of Port Louis is still in place and viable.

The marketplace lost more than half its structures and many establishments in town are out of business—some for good. Seraphina’s, the popular bakery and the Mini-club which served a bargain ‘all you can eat lobster buffet’ twice a week, are now reduced to a pile of rubble and will not be re-built. Thankfully our favorite restaurant in town, the Tropicana, is miraculously up and running at lunchtime and will begin serving dinner again when the lights in the marina and street are functioning and the area secured.

In Grand Case the main drag is like a ghost town with most shops and restaurants closed—the Shamballa, Calmos Café and so many places were destroyed. The Lolos* however, are thriving, including our preferred establishment which still serves excellent BBQ ribs, slaw right and cold beer by the sea.

*Open air barbecue stands serving local cuisine. The word Lolos means ‘boobs’ and these places are so named because the women who run them are rather well endowed.

Anse Marcel, which, until Irma, was considered a hurricane hole, paradoxically suffered some of the worst damage on the island. The Radisson (Riu) hotel will not be functional for at least two years and the marina where Taka Trois was moored for two years was ravaged. If our boat had been there, we would have certainly lost her. Thank God we moved her to Trinidad where she’s safe and sound.

Aeriel view of Anse Marcel before and after Irma. Taka Trois was moored there all the way to the right for two years. Thank God we moved her to Trinidad.

On the bright side, the complex where we used to rent an apartment near the marina had minimal damage, although the roof immediately above us and the guardrail just outside our door were blown away. Although it no longer really concerns me, I confess that I did take some pleasure in noting that our neighbors’ unsightly wreck of a bike that had been tethered to the guard rail in front of our door for three years was finally gone. So is the rail, but never mind...

Ile Pinel has been beautifully restored with two new beach restaurants and our favorite hike around the northwest tip of the island is still as unspoiled and lovely as always—I was terrified we would find mountains of rubbish strewn along the shore. The vegetation is brown and much destroyed, but it’s the tropics, it will grow back in no time during the rainy season.

Orient Beach lost every single beach restaurant, bar and facility. Not a trace remains. For before and after pictures, check out this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWx-bRIMne4. Although I mourn the loss of the livelihoods of the owners and workers, I have to say that the beach, in its renewed natural state, is quite beautiful. And for those so inclined, the nude beach is back in action…

The Dutch side suffered as much as the French side of the island. Many of its resorts are now just skeletons and most of the restaurants and shops are closed down. The Grand Marché caved in completely, as did many supermarkets, and it will be a long time before it opens its doors. The Casinos obviously have serious financial backing and are all up and running, thankfully none of the bridges were seriously damaged and the Yacht Club at the bridge held up as well. Whatever damage it sustained wasrepaired in time for the Heineken Regatta which took place as planned this past February.

Oyster Pond which housed the ‘Moorings Marina’ base where we chartered a boat on our first trip to SXM more than 14 years ago, was completely destroyed. Captain Oliver’s and all the shops and bars on the dock are wrecked and Bobby’s restaurant by the sea, where we enjoyed a wonderful family dinner at Christmas a few years ago, is gone without a trace.

To end this report on a positive note, the island is already being rebuilt, in some places quite quickly, and there are already a variety of new and inventive establishments run by enterprising locals popping up all over the island. It will take a number of years for it to be properly restored—barring another hurricane, please God! An unexpected bonus from the storm is that it seems that the island may becoming home to a flock of frigate birds, possibly from nearby Barbuda, where their natural reserve was devastated by this same hurricane. It is such a joy and balm to the soul to watch these magnificent birds swooping and circling majestically overhead before dive-bombing dramatically into the sea to catch their supper.

And finally, some of you will be pleased to know that the Sunset beach bar is indeed up and running with the usual fools standing nearby at the end of the runway hoping to get their asses blasted by jet fuel…Their continued stupidity cheered me up enormously.

Sidenote: The woman who was instrumental in selling us the apartment asked me on my second night back whether I regretting buying our place. Even though, I was feeling heartsick, overwhelmed by the amount of work needed to be done both in the apartment and on the island and already dreading the next hurricane season which starts in less than two months…I had no hesitation in answering: ‘Absolutely none’. This island may be broken, but it is our island now and we will be a part of re-building it and making it better.

But before I do that, its time to have a cold beer and watch the sunset—thankfully no hurricane can take that away that pleasure for long. Cheers!

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4th and Final Leg: Grenada to Trinidad

4/4/2015

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People often ask us if we’re afraid of traveling at night. The answer is both yes and no. No sailor enjoys sailing too close to land at night and we generally try to avoid arriving anywhere at night, especially a place we don’t know. However, being out at sea at night is delightful. As our friend Alex of Bluewater Sailing puts it: “Night sailing is one of those things that you have to do to fully appreciate. The stars dazzle on a cloudless night, and the sound of the bow breaking through the waves soothes the soul. Your senses are heightened, and it begins to feel as if you are closer to the sea…” We concur.

We left Grenada on Tuesday at 1:00 a.m. under clear skies and a beautiful moon—a ‘Waxing Gibbous’ in fact (a term I just learned off the internet). We had decided to leave at night in order to arrive in Trinidad early afternoon in order to clear immigration and customs before it closes at 4 o’clock.

Trinidad on the horizon

The journey was relatively easy and we would’ve made it in under our estimated 12 hours if we hadn’t caught a mass of sargassum in our prop somewhere along the way. Patrice suspected that we had caught something below at one point as Taka Trois seemed to be dragging a bit, but it wasn’t until we put the engine on just before arriving and heard an uncharacteristic gurgling that our suspicions were confirmed. We put the engine in reverse and a mass of that stuff came to the surface at the stern—ugh!

Sargassum is a brown seaweed that grows to several meters and can float in the open ocean. We have seen increasing amounts of it on this trip—much more than ever before. Although it is an important part of marine ecosystem, it makes life difficult for fishermen and boats and has been wreaking havoc covering beaches throughout the Caribbean this year. Photo Courtesy of GCRL

We did make it to the customs dock in Chaguaramas in plenty of time, but unfortunately had to wait in an interminable line at immigration as the ferry from Venezuela had arrived just ahead us disgorging a load of immigrants and visitors. At least we were fairly entertained while we waited by the dialogue between the Trinidadian officials and some of the Venezuelan visitors. Here’s just a sampling of what we heard:

Venezuelan #1
Immigration Officer: Why are you coming to Trinidad?
Venezuelan: For a wedding.
Immigration Officer:: When’s the wedding?
Venezuelan: I don’t know.

Venezuelan #2
Immigration Officer: Why are you coming to Trinidad?
Venezuelan: For surgery.
Custom’s Official: What kind of surgery?
Venezuelan: I’m not sure.

Venezuelan #3
Immigration Officer: Why are you coming to Trinidad?
Venezuelan: To accompany my son who is coming to study in here.
Immigration Officer: How old is your son?
Venezuelan: 27

In spite of the delay, we were all clear and had Taka Trois settled into her new berth at Crew’s Inn marina before sunset and in plenty of time to celebrate our arrival back in Trinidad--three years to the day of when we left on March 31, 2012. How to describe how it felt? Surreal, to be arriving here by boat; excited, Trinidad was our home for three years after all; relieved, as always when we reach a destination safely and a bit sad that this journey is over….

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Locked down in Martinique...

"To stay in the marina or to anchor in the bay, that was the question which haunted us in the hours before lockdown..."

For your viewing pleasure, I give you a selection of my personal favorite Covid jokes and cartoons...

What We Love About Grenada

The Town of St. George's

Port Louis

The People

Hash House Harriers

Chocolate

The Rivers Rum Distillery

Carriacou

And...

I believe in miracles

Next up: "What we love about Grenada"

Swan Song

Boat For Sale?

From Hell to Paradise in 28 hours

Trials, Tribulations and Ti-Punch in Martinique

Ti-Punch chez Martine in Sainte-Anne

Saint Patrice Day Party onboard Taka Trois

Hiking in Southern Martinique

Wine Shopping, Tasting, Shopping…etc.

It’s Like Riding a Bike (we hope...)

Day 1 (March 2): Chaguaramas, Trinidad to St. Georges, Grenada

Day 2 (March 3): St. George, Grenada to Chatham Bay, Union Island

Day 3 (March 4): Chatham Bay, Union Island to Chateaubelair, St. Vincent

Day 4 (March 5) : Chateaubelaire, St. Vincent to Pitons Bay, Saint Lucia

Day 5 (March 6): Piton Bay, Saint Lucia to Rodney Bay Saint Lucia

Day 6 (March 7): Rodney Bay Saint Lucia to Sainte Anne, Martinique

Meeting Irma, April 3, 2017

4th and Final Leg: Grenada to Trinidad

Author

Archives

"To stay in the marina or to anchor in the bay, that was the question which haunted us in the hours before lockdown..."

For your viewing pleasure, I give you a selection of my personal favorite Covid jokes and cartoons...

The Town of St. George's

Port Louis

The People

Hash House Harriers

Chocolate

The Rivers Rum Distillery

Carriacou

And...

Next up: "What we love about Grenada"

Ti-Punch chez Martine in Sainte-Anne

Saint Patrice Day Party onboard Taka Trois​

Hiking in Southern Martinique​

Wine Shopping, Tasting, Shopping…etc.

Day 1 (March 2): Chaguaramas, Trinidad to St. Georges, Grenada

Day 2 (March 3): St. George, Grenada to Chatham Bay, Union Island

Day 3 (March 4): Chatham Bay, Union Island to Chateaubelair, St. Vincent

Day 4 (March 5) : Chateaubelaire, St. Vincent to Pitons Bay, Saint Lucia

Day 5 (March 6): Piton Bay, Saint Lucia to Rodney Bay Saint Lucia

Day 6 (March 7): Rodney Bay Saint Lucia to Sainte Anne, Martinique

Author

Archives

Saint Patrice Day Party onboard Taka Trois

Hiking in Southern Martinique