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Trials, Tribulations and Ti-Punch in Martinique

3/31/2019

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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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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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

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Saint Patrice Day Party onboard Taka Trois

Hiking in Southern Martinique