It’s been 12 days since we arrived in Grenada, and I realized as I started writing this post that for the first time since the beginning of this trip, there has been no drama, only minor problems with the boat and life onboard has been fairly peaceful.   The only downside is that I have nothing really exciting to write about and well, reporting on whether we decided to have one rum punch or two while watching the sunset does not make for gripping drama on the high seas…

Thus said, if I still have your attention, I will tell you a little about Grenada—a lovely lush Caribbean island, volcanic in origin. Its colorful capital, St. Georges, is the nicest city in the West Indies, in our humble opinion, with a distinct colonial flavor, interesting shops and markets and a friendly atmosphere.   Its history mirrors that of most Caribbean islands—fought over and settled by the French and the British eventually gaining independence yadda yadda yadda--with one major distinction in that it is the only island in this region that has been invaded by the United States of America as recently as 1983 no less.

In 1983 I was busy with a new career, planning a wedding and paid little attention to the news of the invasion of a small Caribbean island except, perhaps, to cross it off as a potential honeymoon destination.  It was, obviously, a very big deal here though, with 79 casualties (19 U.S. soldiers, 25 Cubans and 45 Grenadians) and over 500 wounded.  Being a guest on these shores has piqued my curiosity about what happened, so let me share with you a few details of this cold war tale of murder and espionage, worthy of a novel by John Le Carré

On October 19, of 1983, the moderate Grenada government was overthrown by the communists in a violent military coup leaving the Prime Minister and 7 others dead.  U.S. President Ronald Regan decided that this posed a threat to the 1,000 U.S. medical students on the island and to U.S. national security as Cuba, under the direction of the Soviet Union, might use Grenada as a refueling stop for Cuban and Soviet airplanes loaded with weapons destined for Central American communist insurgents.  The U.S. invaded on October 25 and by December, the pre-revolutionary Grenadian constitution was re-instated and all of the students had been evacuated safely. The governments of Britain, Trinidad and Tobago, and Canada, among others, as well as the U.N., were not amused and there was and still is, debate over whether it was all necessary. 

Thankfully, all is at peace today on this beautiful island which, being on the southern zone of the hurricane belt, was long considered a ‘hurricane hole’ for boats until Ivan hit in 2004, causing thirty-nine fatalities, severe damage and nearly wiped out the nutmeg crop—the cornerstone of the Grenadian economy.  Stricter boat insurance companies now force many cruisers to weather out the hurricane season in Trinidad, so we will have lots of company down there from June to November.  

That is, if we can shed ‘the velcro’ which has grown on our bottom—a disease common amongst cruisers who are reluctant or just too lazy to leave a place they like.  Here, in our very pleasant anchorage off Hog Island, there are boats with something more like concrete on their bottoms who have made this place their home,  some for over 10 years.  It is somewhat understandable as for some, it is as close as you can get to paradise on earth.  

What makes it even more difficult to leave is that there are lots of distractions organized by the highly organized cruiser’s network here.  Every morning at 7:30, someone from the network cheerfully broadcasts the latest news, weather, shopping excursions, local restaurant specials and social activities on the VHF—our favorite broadcaster was Miss Kitty, a witty southern lady with an accent that dripped honey and called us all darlin'.  You can join exercise classes, participate in charity events, join domino tournaments at the Tikki Bar, meet and mingle with other cruisers at beach BBQs and even hunt for Easter eggs.  

We took part in the weekly Sunday BBQ on Hog Island yesterday, but will have to do our Easter egg hunting in Trinidad as we’re leaving tomorrow morning before dawn for the final part of our journey.  Technically speaking this will be our the shortest leg, but the longest passage, about 85 nautical miles and should take us about 12-14 hours or so if all goes well.  Please pray that it does.

PS:  Just to reassure that you that life on board is not just a bowl of rum punch, we did have several minor ‘dramas’ during our stay here:  First, our anchor dragged on our third morning at anchorage bringing us precariously close to the reefs and a catamaran before we realized it—thank God we were on aboard and awake!  Last night, our generator quit which, while not essential, was still worrying.  We had a restless night and finally figured out this morning that the fuel gauge was not working properly and we had run out of diesel!  Thankfully, we had a few spare gallons in the hold, otherwise we would have had to navigate the narrow passage out between the reefs under sail which is generally a really bad idea.  This morning when we hauled up the anchor to go and fill up on diesel, we were relieved that there was no fishing net on the chain this time, but we did snag an old fishing line with a old sock on the hook!  And finally, in a feeble attempt to outdo me, Patrice fell off the boat at the diesel dock while walking the plank.  Aside from a few bruises, he’s fine and those who know him will be surprised to hear that he did it gracefully and without a sound!

The next part of our journey took the longest (11 days), but was also the most trouble free and therefore very relaxing.  We picked up our guests, Bert and Judith, in Rodney Bay, St. Lucia and then headed south at a fairly leisurely pace, stopping overnight at several places for one or two nights.  Unusually strong winds continued to be our greatest challenge and largely dictated where we could anchor, how much sail to put out and sometimes whether we could sail at all.  

As George, our witty and highly entertaining friend from Texas stated in a recent update:  “On the holy shit scale, it has been blowing ‘Like Stink,’ which in non sailor terms, translates into 22 knots with gusts of 30.  No, we are not looking for sympathy.  The temperature is still 80℉.  It is just that we are getting windburn on our sunburn.”  I couldn’t have put it better although, I probably would’ve said merde instead of sh^t —swear words somehow sound more ladylike in French.

Sadly the high winds and our resulting speed also made fishing rather difficult (hey, we'll shamelessly use any excuse we can for our lack of fish), so all we caught was seaweed aside from the "big one" that got away taking took the lure and hook with it--and yes, there really was one on the line (our latest estimate puts it at several meters at least--haha!).

We made it safely to Grenada in plenty of time for our friends to make their flight home today and still managed to linger awhile at some of these spectacular islands, named by the British as the Windward Islands.  As words fail to adequately describe their beauty and charm, I’m going to let my pictures do most of the talking in the rest of this post.

Patrice has had to dig out his briefcase and put on a proper shirt on this morning for a business meeting here in Grenada today and I am making good use of the first decent wifi we’ve had in almost two weeks by posting this blog and cleaning out my inbox.  We plan to be here in Grenada for at least a week before our final leg to Trinidad.  Stay tuned…

We spent a week moored to the dock in Le Marin and I’m pleased to report that that our engine did get repaired in the end as well as several other things.  We were fortunate to have had the services of an exceptional mechanic who spent a day and a half getting it shipshape.  We also got the desalinator working, the generator serviced properly and thanks to the expert handyman skills of our friend Steve, who jokingly says that he will work for ti-punch,* lots of little bits and pieces also got fixed.

Unfortunately as repairs, boat chores and consulting work took priority, we had little time to do any of the hikes we had planned or explore this lovely island aptly named Madinina, the Island of Flowers, by the Caribs, the original inhabitants.   It is a French island and feels like France except for the the presence of fourteen rum distilleries, exotic tropical vegetation which is decidedly Caribbean and an active volcano.

Sunday morning, the harbor master informed us that a berth in the marina was now available, so we prepared the boat to move and then got down to the tricky business of raising the anchor.  Our anchor has a windlass which means it’s electric, so technically all we have to do is press the control button on a handy remote and the windlass will pull on the massive chain to bring up our anchor.  It’s quite an impressive sight to behold and I have a healthy respect for it and not a little trepidation when using it.  

On any given day, the biggest challenge is keeping the boat in alignment with the chain while we pull up the anchor.  As soon as the chain deviates too far to the left or too far to the right, which happens when the wind or current pushes us, it’s impossible to continue as the chain will jump out of the bow roller and get stuck (see photo here and diagram #1 below).  To put it back in place is tricky at best and potentially dangerous to the fingers, so we do everything we can to avoid this happening. 

Due to an unstable weather pattern in our area and the fact that is currently high cruising/chartering season here in the Caribbean, the bay was already jam-packed with boats seeking a calm place, so we had a devil of a time squeezing a safe place for ourselves.  ‘Safe’ means 1) finding in a spot not too deep and not too shallow where the anchor will hold on the ocean floor and 2) placing ourselves far enough away from all other boats to ensure not banging into them even if the wind and currents pivot us around on our anchor chain.  After two attempts, we managed to squeeze ourselves into a tight, but secure spot and spent three pleasant nights there without incident.

Warning! This is a story which requires quite a bit of tedious background information, so I will have to risk boring you for a time before I get to the heart of the matter.  I will also impose several homemade sketches necessary to illustrate the tale on you—please forgive my lack of talent for this sort of thing.   So for those of you who have a bit of time and are game to hear about our latest….ahem….drama, here goes:

When we arrived here in Le Marin, Martinique last Thursday with the problems with our engine our #1 priority, we were told there was no space in the marina until Sunday.  In the that was fine since the engine expert was not available until Monday anyway and we worked out how to use the engine temporarily despite the malfunction.  In the meantime we anchored in the bay, which we always prefer as it is much cooler there, has no mosquitoes, the view is better and we have a place to swim at our doorstep at all times. 

As always when we have been through something new, we carefully assess what happened and see what we could have done differently.  We figured out roughly what went wrong and agree that given the conditions it probably would’ve been more prudent to wait for a calmer time to pick up the anchor—what’s that expression about having perfect 50/50 vision in hindsight…?  We also agree that as best as we can, we need to plan for possibility of a ‘fishnet’ (or shall we say the unexpected) when planning a maneuver.  And in our sailing experiences so far, that unexpected fishnet is to be expected.  It’s a good lesson, but realistically speaking, almost impossible to put into practice, so we will just have to trust that God will provide what we need to help us untangle the next fishnet.

Extremes.  If I had to summarize this leg of the journey in one word, that’s the one I would use. What am I talking about?  Allow me to indulge myself with a little list:  Hurling, pelting, blinding squalls versus cloudless blue skies; 15 foot waves versus barely a ripple in the sea; wind howling up to 30 knots versus not even a puff of wind to fill the sails;  over-crowded anchorages with nary a space in between versus empty bays with hardly a soul; and finally endless problems with the boat versus the joy of finding Taka Trois’ sweet spot sailing upwind, the incredible beauty of a full rainbow at sea, the up-lifting experience of seeing dolphins frolicking alongside and the satisfaction of spotting yet another green flash.

When I read Ann Vanderhoof’s book many years ago, An Embarrassment of Mangoes, her story of a sailing trip from Toronto to Trinidad and back, I clearly remember alternating between delight and horror as the story unfolded.  I’m still like that when it comes to sailing.  Why do we continue? That’s a question we often ponder…Perhaps the hope of another rainbow, dolphin or green flash just might have something to do with it.

Although our journey from Guadeloupe to Martinique was fraught with challenges and trouble, we made it safely to Le Marin in 4 days with one night stops in Les Saintes, Dominica and Anse d’Arlet, Martinique. Sadly we did not get our planned break in Les Saintes as the place was so crammed with charter boats in this high season (might have something to do with the foul weather up north), we were forced to anchor in a very uncomfortable spot.  After a terrible night being buffeted and bashed by the swells, we pulled up anchor at dawn and moved on to Dominica thinking we’d rest up there.  This was not to be for even though the anchorage in Roseau was uncrowded and rather charming, just as we arrived we experienced engine problems and we decided it was best to get ourselves as quickly as possible to Martinique where there are excellent marine facilities. 

We were able to sail most of the rest of the way and therefore did not need to engage the engine much. In fact, strong winds got us there in record time (our British sailing friends might be impressed to know that we covered the equivalent distance from Cherbourg to Lymington in 7 hours) and thankfully the engine behaved itself for the short time we needed it to get ourselves safely moored. Whew!

Whatever disappointment we may have experienced melted away with the relief of being safe and the joy of seeing our good friends Ann and Steve of Receta who arrived in the bay just before us.  We will spend ten days here before moving on our next major destination—Grenada with many stops in between.   Before we do that however, we will take some time to explore this beautiful island.  Stay tuned…

PS:  It was great to hear from so many of you after I posted earlier this week.  Thanks for your encouragement--I can't tell you how wonderful it is to get your messages.  It brings me that much closer to you when I am so far away...

Since I got back to St. Martin a few weeks ago, it’s been a mad dash to get the boat shipshape and to prepare ourselves for the trip south to Trinidad (to find out why we’re doing this trip go to the ‘Welcome’ page on this site).  The day after I arrived, Taka Trois was hauled out of the water and put ‘on the hard’ for her annual ‘beauty treatment’ which entails having her bottom scraped of impurities and blemishes (barnacles and stuff), polished and painted—I guess you could call it a kind of posterior ‘facial’ of sorts… Every inch of her, both inside and out gets cleaned and sorted (most women I know, myself included, would pay good money to get a treatment like that), her gear gets a comprehensive medical check-up and her lockers and bilges are stocked with everything we might need for the upcoming journey, including, bien sûr, ample supplies of vin français!

Our departure date was set for February 8th and our dear, but perhaps over-trusting friends, Cindy and Peter, who were accompanying us on the first leg to Guadeloupe, actually believed (haha) that we would be able to honor that date and booked flights accordingly.  The long list of repairs and things to sort out was far from complete when they arrived, but as they were ‘minor’ and would not stop us from sailing, we planned on finishing everything in the marina in Guadeloupe where there are excellent facilities. That was a good plan and it could’ve worked if it wasn’t for the fact that our transmission broke just as we were slipping back into our berth in the marina after Taka Trois was put back in the water.  Losing the ability to steer is not a minor problem, to say the least…urrggh!

Here’s the amazing thing:  pulling into our very narrow ‘parking spot’ at the marina in Anse Marcel (see the red ‘X’ marking the spot on the photo below) is no easy task on any given day, especially as the winds always seem to gust furiously in random directions whenever we come in.  This is why we always radio in for help from the harbor master’s office just before going through the channel to the marina.  Usually the harbor master sends us one person to give us a hand, but on that particular day (you may call it luck, but we know it was divine intervention), there were THREE people waiting to give us a hand; the harbor master himself on the dock, his assistant in a skiff alongside and a local deck hand on the boat next to ours!  In the two years we have been coming in and out of there, we have never had more than one person helping us get into our berth—thank you God!

Once we were safely berthed with the help of these expert hands, it was determined that the chain on our transmission was broken and would require a part not currently available on the island…of course (sigh).  It took a week for the part to arrive and to be installed (another miracle as this sort of thing usually takes about two weeks) which delayed our eventual departure by four days giving us only four days to make our friends’ flight in Guadeloupe.  We had to shorten the original leisurely plan which included a few stops along the way, but we managed to get them there in time and they even had a day to rest and enjoy one of our favorite anchorages off the village of Deshaies on the northwest coast of the island.  

Aside from being a charming village, a generally peaceful bay and a fabulous place to watch the sunset (it was here we first saw the elusive ‘green flash’--see my blog entry in the archives from 5/21/2104), it is also the home of the most beautiful botanical gardens in the Caribbean.  We had a wonderful afternoon enjoying the fabulous flora and fauna in this delightful place.

Mission accomplished (the made their flight in plenty of time), we sailed the boat down to the marina in Point à Pitre the next day where we have spent a week working and doing some more repairs on Taka Trois (it’s never ending…). We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning to continue our journey south stopping for two nights to anchor in Les Saintes for some much needed rest (see my blog entry in the archives from 31/5/2013 for more information on these little island just south of Guadeloupe) and then on to Le Marin in the south of Martinique, our next big stop, where more work, a few boat parts and hopefully our cruising friends Ann and Steve await us. 

I have been writing about our adventures aboard Taka Trois on this blog for almost two years now and what initially started as an account of our sabbatical year went on to include some of our travels and experiences of this past year while we got back to work setting up Taka Technologies. The business is now ticking along with several deals on both sides of the Atlantic and more due to be signed in the near future.  

While this is a good thing, it means that we no longer live aboard Taka Trois and have less time for sailing and the adventures that provided me with so many interesting topics to write about. Therefore, I have decided to put this blog on 'pause' in the hopes that one day, God willing, I will be inspired to pick up the proverbial 'pen' again.

To say that the past two years have been an incredible ride for Patrice and me is an understatement and being able to share it with you; our family, friends, and friends of friends--many of whom we have never even met--has been such a joy.  It has been truly comforting to know that you were along for the ride, albeit vicariously. 

So au revoir faithful followers.  Please accept my humble thanks for taking the time to read my ramblings and for all your encouragement along the way.  I really appreciate it.

With another two weeks to go before Claire-Elise’s flight out of SXM (St Martin), we took the trip back north from Dominica at a leisurely pace making stops in Guadeloupe for some work and repairs, Les Saintes for a little R&R and finally Antigua for Classic Regatta Week.  It was actually more by chance than design that we wound up in Antigua for this exceptional event, but wow!  We sure were glad we did.  No, Taka Trois does not qualify as a ‘classic,’ and no, Patrice and I did not participate in the race, but thanks to a random conversation, our daughter, Claire-Elise did.

We arrived in Antigua several days before the start of the regatta when the marina was already buzzing with preparation and incredible classic yachts of all sizes arriving hourly from all over the world.  We happily joined the sailors, cruisers, classic enthusiasts, paparazzi and just plain gawkers rambling the docks admiring these beautiful specimens and drinking in the atmosphere as well as the free booze on offer every evening from the sponsors. 

For Patrice, events of this sort are sheer nirvana.  Those of you who have met my husband, know that he is capable of talking to anyone about anything, anywhere! He is not just an extreme extrovert , interacting and conversing with people on a daily/hourly basis is as necessary and natural to him as breathing. 

On the third evening of our stay, he started up a conversation with a gentleman because he was wearing a t-shirt from Guernsey.  Turns out the guy, Paul, was actually from Guernsey and with his wife, Claire, was in Antigua staying aboard Coral of Cowes and crewing for her in the regatta.  Coral is a truly magnificent British 80 foot yawl (a two-masted sailboat similar to a sloop or cutter, but with an additional mast known as a mizzen mast) built in 1902.  

To our astonishment, when Claire-Elise expressed a rather whimsical desire to participate in the race during that conversation, Claire promptly took her off to see the Richard, the owner and captain of Coral, who instantly signed her up as crew for the next day!   Truth be told, youth and sex had everything to do with her appointment, as it turns out that the crew on the foredeck was made up solely of young men and the captain had been told to be on the lookout for a female crew member to join them!  

Although we were sure she would be in good hands with Paul and Claire onboard, we were delighted to discover the next morning that Alex, our old sailing instructor of Blue Water Sailing in Grenada, who we had not seen in ages, was also crewing aboard Coral.  Coincidences like this always make my heart sing.

Claire-Elise not only survived and thoroughly enjoyed that first day, but was thrilled to be asked to come back for the rest of the race.  Needless to say it was the experience of a lifetime, especially the 2nd day of the race when the weather conditions made sure that the entire crew got soaked repeatedly and at times, the crew at the bow were completely dunked in the sea! Patrice and I lived it vicariously with her, avidly watching the preparations and the races from afar.  

Brief history Lesson: Dominca was put on the map in 1493 by Christopher Columbus, of course, who named it after the day of the week on which he spotted it; dominica which is latin for Sunday (I’m guessing at that point he was just running out of names and imagination).  The local Caribs continued to live peacefully there until 100 years later, when France turned up and started a colony with imported African slaves.  About 170 years later, the Brits took over until the island gained its independence on November 3, 1978 and on April 7, 2014, the Orléachs arrived.  

Due to the unfavorable conditions of our anchorage, we only stayed two days in Dominica—not enough time by a long-shot, but sufficient for us to become completely enamored. Honestly, I am at a loss to describe this island; lush, verdant, unspoiled, friendly, unique, colorful, spectacular are just a few adjectives that come to mind, but don't do it justice. So rather than use many more words,  I’m going to lean on the old adage, “a picture is worth a thousand words” and allow my photographs to do most of the talking in the rest of this post by offering you three slideshows—one for each of segment of our stay (just click on 'play' icon in the top left corner of each of the photos below to activate).

On our first morning on land, we cleared customs and walked through the picturesque seaside town of Portsmouth in search of internet, boat parts, produce, cold beverages, lunch and a feel for the town.  We were successful on all accounts.

After lunch, Martin took us on a tour of Indian River in his pirogue.  It is the widest river in Dominica and its claim to fame is that some of the scenes of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest were filmed there.

On our second day we rented a car at daybreak and like crazy tourists set off to see as much of the island as possible driving from Portsmouth across to Marigot, down to Roseau, up to take a dip in the natural springs at Laudat and finally back to Portsmouth by early evening--whew!  It was a magical, yet frustrating trip as we did not see a fraction of what we had hoped, but we did our best to make the most of our short time.  We’ll be back.

Although we would’ve preferred to go directly from Nevis to Dominica, the wind and waves were not kind to us on the way down and we took refuge mid-way, anchoring for the night in Deshaies in northwest Guadeloupe.  We were rewarded with not just with a respite, but a glimpse of the elusive ‘green flash’ at sunset—the first time for Claire-Elise and Patrice and the only time I've ever managed to capture it on film.  

Determined to make Dominica the next day, we persevered under difficult sailing conditions, taking a beating most of the way down and by late afternoon we arrived safely in Prince Rupert Bay welcomed by a rainbow no less!  Wish I could say this was a good omen, but unfortunately the anchorage was quite uncomfortable and unstable with shrieking winds battling down on us.  Nevertheless we were so keen to visit the island and exhausted from our trip down, we decided to put ‘mind over matter’ and do our best to put up with it.

The first time we sailed in these waters 18 years ago, we had been warned that Dominica was not a safe place to anchor.  Since then an enterprising group of young men formed the Portsmouth Association of Yacht Security (PAYS).  They run regular patrols at night in the anchorage area and since this has been active there have been no problems in this area.   

Cruising friends had recommended we contact a certain member of PAYS named Martin by VHF upon arrival and he would take care of us.  Within minutes of the call, he appeared in his trusty pirogue aptly called Providence as he was such a blessing to us.   So that we would not have to put our dinghy in the water (a challenge in that anchorage), he offered to take us into town to clear customs the next day, recommended a place for lunch, arranged a tour of the Indian River for the next afternoon and found us a place to rent a car for the day after.  He even took our garbage and brought us a bunch of ‘banana figs’ a small plump tropical version of the fruit as a gift.  What a guy!

Although we were tempted to go ashore immediately to have look around, we were too tired to make the effort and decided that the 'splendor' of this fair isle could wait until tomorrow.  My last thought before I fall asleep while being jostled in my bunk from the swell is "Dominica, you better be worth it!"