A day on the water

A day on the boat. But not just on "Babette". We don't risk the surf and are not ashore. But we swim, and we take out our, now returned, dinghy and visit Swedish/Finnish neighbors on "Sheila". They are sailing on their second year out and have come up from Brasil and Venezuela to Tobago. Lots of interesting experiences and loads of sailing knowlege.
Then we dinghy over to "Bonanza" to see how their drowned motor is running now. And drink an ice cold beer.

Beeing "at sea" we dive down into the benches, our food stores, and find some good Norwegian canned goods hiding there. Dinner is "Joika-kaker", that is reindeer meatballs, with mushroom and onion brown-sauce, boiled potatos and mashed kohlrabi. And a glass of red wine.

And if that doesn't sound good you are obviously not Norwegian!

Bonanza and an upside-down dinghy

"Bonanza"'s here! While we were at "Sunday School" yesterday the now five 20's-ish crew of "Bonanza' arrived in "Man o' War Bay" (which Pirates Bay is part of). They had sailed from Chaguaramas, Trinidad here, against the wind.
We make a date for dinner at "Sharon and Pheb's" for 7pm.
Great dinner and great to see the Bonanza boys, and now with two girls, again! But towards the end of ice-cream and cake another sailor rushes over to tell us that our dinghy has done a sommersault in the surf and it's been pulled up on the beach. Ow! Oernulf rushes off. I pay first, then follow.

But it's not our's; it's "Bonanza"'s. They get a lend of our dinghy, fetch the tools they need and spend til 1am cleaning up the motor and get it running again.
Back at "Babette" I'd noticed that the powerful football-field lights had been turned on briefly. We found out later that it was to help the Bonanza boys find a screw-driver they'ld lost in the grass!

"Sunday School"

At 2pm we're tied up at the dinghy jetty, ready to meet Son-son and our new Canadian friends. But the arrival of cruise-sailship, "Sea Cloud II", complicates things. The cruise ship needs to land their passengers, some with canes and a bit wobbly, browdside with big launches. That takes just about the whole little landing pier. Especially difficult for all the sailors and their "umbilical-cords to home, the dinghys. The rough surf complicates things. We re-tie up, lock with a chain, at the near end, out of Cruise' way, and cross our fingers...

Son-son and his colorful Danish friend, a red flower in her black hair, arrive and off we go. We're heading for "Sunday School" in Buccoo.
But first we have some sights to see along the way. Same roller-coastal road, passing all the shack-shops planted smack-dab in the hair-pin curves:"Small Bite Caf'e", "Outlet", that also a tiny shed, "Dougie's Bar", among a dozen more.
First stop, Fort King George, in Scarborough. There are huge Saman trees, supporting vines and airplants, red orchids and flocks of chirping Mot-mots and tropical Mocking birds. the grounds, mowed grass, stone-paved walkways, are tidy in contrast to the jungle-y trees and the vine-covered stone or brick barracks. The fort was raised in 1777 by the British and was alternating French or British in the ping-pong waring they waged. The British were holding the fort when the treasuries were empty and no more gold was to be found. They named the fort after King George III. And now it's Trinidad and Tobago's elected officials that hold the purse strings. Mostly Trinidad, says Tobago.
And there, in one of the fort's big trees, we catch a glimpse of Tobago's turkey sized national bird, a Chachalaca, holding watch. The cannons at the rim command a spectacular view on the Atlantic side.
In 2006, a peaceful spot.

Next stop, Tobago Plantations. More birds. This is a bird reserve developed and owned by the Hilton Hotel here. We stop at the reservoir and watch big Anhingas standing like statues of angels, stetching out their wings. Comorant-style. Pretty Black-bellies Whistling Ducks are swimming on the pond. On the golf course white Cattle Egrets are "grazing".
There is a long and winding plank "boardwalk".into the Mangrove grove. The spaghetti of huge looping roots in the salt-water marsh is otherwise completely impassable. Spooky, all quiet. Just the still, dark waters, a brown tangle of roots, under a dark, green leaf canopy. The trees are busy desalinating their drinking water. Out at the bay, at the far end, we're on the Atlantic, the surf breaking white on the reefs outside. The hotel buildings also shining white in the afternoon sun.
It's late. Got to march on if we want to catch the hummingbirds: Adventure Farms, revisited. We see a fair collection of the tiny jewel-like creatures, whizzing up to the red sugar-water feeder. The Rufous-breasted Hermit is an unpolished rusty color. But the Black-throated Mango is a shining, irridescent green. As is the more rare White-tailed Sabrewing. And who should fly by, newly arrived from Venezuela, but the crown-jewel, Ruby-Topaz!

We have more forts with cannon-protected veiws to see. Now we're down past Crown Pt. and Pidgean Pt. at Fort Milford. Overlooking Store Bay and Milford Bay. Lovely mowed grounds with large, flat-roofed Almond trees. Great for climbing, we witnessed.
The sun sinks into Store Bay with a pink-orange splash and we head for our last stop before "Sunday School", The Mysterious Tombstone". On it is written:
"She was a mother but didn't know it,
She was a wife, but her husband didn't know it
But for her kind attentions to him".
In the grave lie a 23 year old woman and her child. So, it's up to you to interpret the text. And now, on to Buccoo and Sunday School!

We drive in about 7pm and the street is already crowded. We pass small wooden booths some with souvenirs, some with home-made roulette-ish gambling, along the way. There's smoke in the air from several barbecue areas. This is the little lane that hosts the famous street-party, "Sunday School". Every Sunday since... when? Son-son's known of it for over 30 years.
He also knows a fun, loud-mouthed Barbecue lady, Sasha. She laughs, teases, jokes and calls out to customers. As she stirs, fries, arranges the many dishes that go with the "fish or chicken?" barbecue.
Now we are seven, a new Danish woman, we've met in Charlotteville joins us. She's travelling alone and is staying here in Buccoo. Barbecue smoke over us, plates overflowing, cold rum punch or beer in paper cups, and a merry crowd- It's a good party!
The Buccoo Steel Band gets going abour 7:30pm in the adjacent open hall. They're of all ages, and include two young girls on pans.They do the regular steel band rythmns and some popular tunes. And they do Handel's Halleluja Chorus! Definitly the first time I've heard that on oil drums. Son-son and his Danish friend start the dancing, and soon the narrow floor-space between spectators and band is filled. About 10:30pm they pack thier drums. And high-decibel, even higher bass, disco takes over. Across the street is "Hendrix: Original Sunday School" where it all started. Inside it's unlit, but full of dancers and disco music. We start yawning and have had enough dancing, at about midnight. But Sunday School isn't over til sunrise the next day!

Back at Charlotteville we discover that some kind person has pulled our dinghy out of the boiling, low-tide surf and placed it on the pier. Forever gratefull!

Sewing and lugging 30 liters of water

I sew and Oernulf luggs. It's a never-ending sewing project keeping the flag un-frayed at the bottom. Red, white and blue button thread and patience, a must on every boat.
Meanwhile Oernuls is in town, beside the community center, fetching water in the 30 liter jug. And more outboard fuel. It's errand day.

In the afternoon I sketch while Oernulf hikes over to Pirates' Bay Beach. A certain division of labor is necessary on a boat.

In the evening we have banana-date bread fresh out of the oven. Warm and yummy in the lantern-lit cockpit, watching the rolling sailboats, their anchor-lights few and weak.

Snorkeling i Pirates' Bay

The recent rains made for cloudy water. The turquiose water more sort of mud colored. So we didn't see any pretty blue, yellow and red fish today. But we got the dinghy through the surf onto the beach at Pirates' Bay. And out again. And had a good snorkel-swim in the warm surf.

Pans in Speyside

The downpours are now occaional and I re-sew the bimini (sun-roof) in five of its six "corners". I sew webbing bands on to replace the hard plastic plates and hooks which broke in the winds.
In the evening we join our Canadian friends for a pleasant dinner on the Speyside Inn veranda. Just below we can hear the Atlantic surf pounding, in the dark. The food is good, the company likewise.
Already the local steel band has set up its "pans", and soon Caribbean rythmns, with a cheery, bell-like sound, are drowing out all conversations. They try a few pop-melodies ála calypso, not quite the same. There's time for one or two dances before they pack away the oil drums at about nine-thirty. Caribbean bed-time?

An accident in the Amazons

More rain, heavy tropical showers and gusty winds And hot and humid.
We're in Curtis' internet-shed, checking the mail and read a terribly sad message from "Blue Marlin", from Stavanger, Norway. The 16 year old nephew on board, Sondre, has had an accident while diving into a lake in the Amazons. He was rescued from the bottom by his uncle, Rune, but had broken his neck. After a 17 hour wait he was finally flown out to Bolivar. And is now being operated on in Bergen, Norway.

And the rain is still pouring down here in Tobago.

A down-pour day

By 11am we get a break in the rain. And, racing the dark, wet clouds, make a dinghy-dash for shore.. It's a hot and foggy car-ride with rolled-up windows and wipers doing double time. Again we climb steep switchbacks up over and down the central "Main Ridge", this time with rivers of rain flowing beside us.. Along the coast, down by the bays, the winds are blowing up quite a surf; its breaking over the rickety wooden sheds, the cafes, bars and small groceries. And it breaks over the road, adding salt water to the rain beating down.
Between each bay, Kings Bay, Queens, Princes, then Roxborough, Goldsborough, Hillsborough, there are headlands to climb up, then down again. Scarborough is a long and winding drive along the Atlantic coast.

In Scarborough we use the rainy day to browse in "Cotton House, a mostly batikk gift shop. We don't leave empty-handed. Exhausted by all this shopping we stop at "The Blue Crab" for lunch. Proprieter, Allison Sardinha is busy, alone with a "greenhouse" veranda full of tourists. She's laughing, thanking God for all these customer's, But why all at one time? Where do they come from? After a bit we get a table and a good kingfish lunch.

We leave a still rainy Scarborough and head further down the coast towards Crown Pt., near the airport. Buccoo is a village near the point, Store Bay in the middle, with about 10 sailboats anchored and Pidgean Pt, with an entrance fee park further on to the north.
Still raining, we drive on to see Grafton Beach Resort. Where friends (Ludvig and Aase Egeland and Inger Johanne and Gjermund Roirsland) will soon be staying.
Having mistaken us for full-pension residents, like everyone else here, we get a cup of coffee and cake on the lovely, dark-wood veranda overlooking the sea. And the pool. The pool, a level lower, is unobtrusive, especially in the rain. It contains a sunken bar, the bar-stools under water. "Neptune", a good seafood restaurant, is over the bar. With a fabulous sundown view of the Caribbean Sea.

On a sunny day.

New photos: Cape Verdes and crossing the Atlantic

New photos are up, with pictures of the Cape Verdes and from crossing the Atlantic.
There's also a slideshow here.

Winding roads and Humming-birds

The rental car is there at 8am, as Son-son promised. So off we go on the Windward Rd. First stop, Flag Staff Hill, up an even narrower twisting road, just outside Charlottesville. There's a panorama view of the North-East end of Tobago with little London Bridge Island, a hole in the middle of it. Long, narrow St. Giles Island just beside it. The water is still white-capped in this windy day.
We retrace our steps from the rain forest tour, but drive further on the "Main Ridge Forest Reserve Rd. At the top, at "Bloody Bay Rec. Site", there's another good wiew, this time of "Bloody Bay".

Then it's down, down, down to the coast and it's various bays. After Bloody Bay we check out Englishman's Bay. Said to be a good anchorage. There are two boats anchored. It looks really rolly today and the surf is hard. But there's a cosy two-story veranda restaurant on the strand. Looks inviting.

Costara is the last town before "Adventure Farm off the Arnos Vale Rd. It's a beautiful estate with huge old trees. Entrance fee is not prohibitive. There's a walk with a variety of tropic trees and plants. And, if the farm's two big dogs hadn't decided to join our walk we might have seen some big iguanas. They can be three meters long!
Instead of big we went for small: Tiny humming-birds. They whizzed into the red sugar feeders, barely pausing to hover in mid-air. We saw a female, Black-throated Mango and a Rufous-breasted Hermit. Rufous means rust-colored. Bright black, white and yellow Bananaquits went for there share of the sugar, too. Not called "Sugarbird" for nothing! In the trees blue and green Motmots, with their fabulous long tails, a spear-shaped tip hanging on by a "thread".

In Scarborough we burn a cd with pictures from the Caribbean, soon on its way to Norway. And then we're off, climbing the steep and winding roads back along the coast. Deep gutters, pot-holes and sheer cliffs make for an interesting drive back in the dark.

The fort on the hill

We've been here one week. So we thought we'ld take a walk up to the fort on the hill, opposite "Pirates'Bay". A short hike with a great view. The road goes under huge old trees, along the lovely well-kept grounds of a tourist "rent-a-cottage" area, facing the shore. Parrots shreiking in the crowns of the trees, small hummingbirds, blue Motmots and bright yellow-tailed...somethings. An un-guided regnforest walk. As the road narrows gradually to trail, the houses grow smaller, go from concrete to wood. At the end of the road a turn-stile lets us into the fenced off fort area. Mowed grass, small bushes (like our window-ledge plants at home), and a big paviljon. And a panorama view of the bay and the village. There's "Babette", tiny over in "Pirates' Bay" along with ca. 20 other sailboats. the wind is whipping up the sea beyond the quiet bay. Yes, I think we'll stay put here a while.

Charlotteville Social Life

The munchies in the rucksack had melted.
So no raison-sunflower-pumpkin-seed-and-dark-chocolate trail-goodies. So sad. But all major mistakes are the seeds of great inventions. After soaking the whole concoction in rum a few days it has become a cake.
That is, I mix a carrot cake batter, minus carrots, plus spices (becomes Spice Cake) and add the trail-goodies as a fill. Baked in our little boat-oven it rises, bakes perfectly and turns out like a proper (store bought!)cake. We tried several pieces to test the quality.

In town in the evening we dine at "Sharon and Phebe's" veranda. Our Canadian rain-forest-friends are there. Beside our table (starboard)is a Trinidad-Egyptian couple with daughter, and adorable granddaughter. We have a chat with them. On our port side there is a psychiatrist from Vermont, wife and mother-in-law. We have a chat with them. At the pier-bench we chat with a black Trinidad man diving in Tobago for the weekend. And at "Eastman's" we meet the Danish crew of "Bonita". And have a nice chat.

It's easy to get to know people in Charlotteville.

Dream Beach at Pirates' Bay

Two blond heads, arms like rotarblades. A couple "outward-bound" girls are swimming from the anchored "Spirit of Mass." to the beach on Pirates' Bay. Quite a swim. And then back again, before breakfast.
But the "Babette" crew has some chores to do first. We raise and furl the foresail while the wind is down. We're glad that it furls; that's one of the things that needs repairing in Trinidad. Then another sewing job on the 20 year old spray hood.

Then we take a hike to "Pirate's Bay". Good, sweaty exercise, up and down the hills on the dirt paths. Along the way a bright blue flash, just in front of us: a Motmot. We now know! Bush-lined concrete steps lead down to the little sandy beach. It's narrow and a few others share it. Also some Rastafari's selling carved coconuts. Our yellow, black and white tits ("kjøttmeis")will be surprised to find their sunflower seeds in a new coconut feeder with two carved "love-birds' on top! Won't it look lovely in the snow?

Meanwhile, we cool off in Pirates' Bay. The sand slopes gently under blue green water, as the surf rolls gently in. There's coral reefs on the outer edge. Next time we'll remember the masks!

a slowwwwwww com?pu//te$r

But at least it's working now, most of the keys, at least.After an hours' wait while Curtis (the owner) and Phil from Michigan, a guest-volunteer, and the repairman worked on the two machines in the little shed here. I'm in! Barely. The shop has two tiny rooms. One with a counter, various fishing, snorkeling stuff to rent or buy and then this little cubby-hole with the two computors sweating in the sticky heat. We're right on the beach and little "no-see-'em" bugs are biting at the ankles, but the sea breeze, blowing all my papers about, is great.

There's a new large schooner in the bay, "Spirit of Massachusetts" from Boston. The young crew are "outward-bound" kids. They have chosen to spend some weeks learning the ropes and the seas on a schooner. There's also a bigger sailing cruise ship in, a four-masted full-rigger, but their passengers don't involve themselves with the sailing. Their loss.

Dinner is on "Babette": Kingfish, bought on the beach, behind Curtis' internet shed. It's a good white fish, big slices, breaded and fried, with potatos, onion, pumpkin (winter squash), and Christophenes. Just add "green sauce", garlic, pepper, a dash of piri-piri, a little white wine. !Bueno apetito!

A Study Day

We're at the lovely air-conditioned Charlotteville Library. I've got bird books spread out all over the table. Did I see that one? I write out the "tropical Kingbird"'s vital statistics so I can check him out with our guide, Son-son,when we see him. Oernulf is reading about V.S. Naipaul and other essays about the Caribbean and their special racial background. This is a pleasant and well-stocked library; we'll be back for more.

Between cake and coffee at "Jane's Quality Kitchen" and dinner later, same place, we do meet Son-son (Mr.Leaton Eastman) at "Eastman's" and we check out all the birds. He goes patiently through them all. Before explainging steel drums(pans) for us, too.

Dinner at "Jane's" was good. This time I do fish, Oernulf, chicken. And, as in the other family restaurants here, we get calalloo soup and each plate gets rice, baked macaroni, beans, salad and boiled vegetables, too. And a slightly different sauce.

Into the Emerald Land of Oz

Son-son is pointing and we are squinting up into the green canopy, binoculars and cameras ready. Then, suddenly, we see the bright blue of a Mot-mot. On a limb right in front of us. Our rain-forest guide, Mr.Leaton Eastman, called Son-son by all, has been whistling, clukking and chirping just ahead of us on the sticky yellow clay trail, calling for tropical birds. He's not satisfied til all five of us have seen both the male and female. We have plenty of time; no hurry.

The "Babette" dinghy was tied up at the pier at 8am as we'ld agreed. When Son-son appeared, after a bit; he was still arranging things. The arrival of a huge sailing cruise ship may have complicated things. Soon Son-son had joined the steel-band playing at the pier, on the large, bass pan. So we let our packs rest on the bandstand and relaxed in the Caribbean xylophonic rythmns. A hypnotizing phrase repeated until someone decides it's over.
About 10am we're all gathered in the van, a Canadian couple, their 20 something-ish daughter and us. We drive along the North-East coast, stopping to get a glimpse of Ian Flemming's house on Goat Island, off Speyside. We stop and look at huge old tropical trees with their load of vines, at tropical birds in the bushes. We have plenty of time, no hurry.

Then we drive into the Tobago Forest Reserve, protected since colonial times, ca. 1765. To avoid the cruise-ship tour we take a walk first on a less-used trail. It's just us and the birds. Son-son ahead, whistling, and us sliding along the yellow-clay road into this emerald green "Land of Oz". The screeching parrots, light green on green, flashing a little yellow, orange, are mostly ignored. Son-son regards them as a sort of "crow", a garden nuisance. It's the smaller tropical birds we're after. The bright rainbow-hued Mot-mot is "common", too. But wonderfully photogenic! Small red-crowned black Manakins sit in bunches in certain trees. A yellow-breasted something, seen in flight, is Kingbird, shown to us in the bird book and identified by Son-son. "It's a male".
The cruise-tour isn't long on the trail, and we take the main bird-trail, Gilpin Track, into an older, denser part of the rain forests. Huge, old dense tropic trees, straight as an arrow, are allowed to grow in peace here. Vines, air-plants, strangle their hosts and send an airy curtain of liana, Tarzan ropes, down. Enormous fans of bamboos, the size of huge bass organ pipes tower above us. They are as smooth as our polished fiberglass hulls. Seeing the hanging termite nests I understand the trees' hardness and the strong resins.
The trail gets narrow, occationally steep and rocky. We cross rickety wooden bridges over waterfalls and emerge high in the mountains, with a glimpse of "Bloody Bay" on the North side, just visible through the greenery.
Same way back. And, back at the trail entrance, we are met by a strategically located cake and icecream seller. Great home-made cakes! Not possible to pass by. A long rest and interesting discussions with Son-son and the other Tobagoans there. We have plenty of time, no hurry.
Next walk: To the Argoyle waterfall.Entrance fee, $T6. Another rocky, muddy walk into the forest. But we first pass a lot of edible planted plants. A field of calaloo ("spinach"), bananas and plantains, sugar cane. There are papaya, mango trees and tropical trees with handy name-signs attached.
We pass the waterfall lake and climp further up to the first big fall and take a brisk "shower". Our Canadian companian, the guide and Oernulf all stand in the hard falling streams of water, while I choose a softer section. A great back massage! Then, down again to the pool where a local boy demonstrates a swallow dive and we take a swim up to the falls. Great to wash all the salt off!
On the way back we stop and pick a cocoa tree pod. The big white "corn-kernels" with gooey grapefruit-y taste, not exactly chocolate yet. Takes some fermenting, and treatment first. We do a bit of bird-watching, again. No hurry.
It's almost 6pm when we arrive back in Charlotteville. We've agreed og a half-day trip, four hours, but got the double. Son-son doesn't attempt to re-negotiate the reasonable price. Tip, voluntary!
We enjoyed the walks (understatement!). Fabulous country, and we recommend Son-son to anyoe else coming this way.

And these are the birds we saw:
White-tailed Sabrewing
White-necked Jacobin
Copper-rumped Hummingbird
Blue-crowned Motmot
Rufous-tailed Jacamar
Red-crowned Woodpecker
Barred Antshrike
Blue-backed Manakin
Tropilcal Kingbird
Tropical Mockingbird
Cocoa Woodcreeper
Blue-grey Tananger
Collared Trojan
White-fringed Antwren
Striped-breasted Spinetail
Plain-breasted Spinetail
Bare-eyed Thrush
and, also seen round about....
orange-winged Parrot
Bananaquit
Carib Grackle (black-bird)
and on the beaches...
Southern Lapwing (large plover)
Frigates and Pelicans
think that's about it.

Green parrots screeching

...and rain pouring down on the hatches wakes us up in Pirate's Bay this morning. The pelicans are swooping down and coming up with breakfast in their pouches. The wooden fishing boats lie on the still waters , their two poles out on either side, like giant insekt-antennas. A quiet, green morning.

We clear in at the immigration/customs. Serious business here, with newspaper clippings warning about the stiff fines and fail sentances for lying, swearing or carrying firearms.

At the bus-stop we have an hour's conversation with a Derry man living in Scotland and a crewmember from Danish,"Jonna", last seen in Union Island. We get a recommendation for a rain-forest guide, Son-son. And, abracadabra,there he is. We agree to meet him and three Canadians tomorrow, 8am, at the pier. Bring the binoculars.

I'm not sure if our Derry man's bus ever arrived.

Anchored in "Pirates Bay"

A corner of "Man-of-war Bay" is called "Pirates Bay". That's where we're anchored at 11am, by a little yellow beach under a jungely green hill. There are about 20 blue-water sailboats anchored, no charter boats! For the first time we get a close-up look at our VHF-"Radio Holland" friends on "Lady Jean" and "Catch 22". Our German friends on "Macani" are also anchored near us. On the far side is a Swedish "colony", with another Najad, old pals, "Eos".

"Man-of-war Bay" is a wide, sheltered bay, a huge green amphi. The thick tangle of green leaves from the bushes and trees reach down to the water's edge, except where a few empty white beaches lie waiting for the surf, between rocky headlands. A huddle of mostly wooden houses are dead-ahead in cosy Charlotteville.
What you notice first are the birds in the bay. The Frigates, with their long split tails, like overgrown swallows are soaring above. The Pelicans are balancing on the wooden fishing boats. That's when these birds of prey aren't nose-diving into the sea, always coming up with a catch. What's new for us is the stubby green parrots, light green against the darker foliage, squacking as they fly.
The town has a nice library and school, with football field mid-town, by the immigration/ customs office. Most of the other houses are small, some tiny. Along the sandy seafront, behind the moored fishing boats are small businesses, one or two rooms, a wash'n'dry business, some family-run restaurants and caf'es, or bars, an internet caf'e.
Our "Macani" friends, Felix and Monica, have us over for a sundowner with the young German couple an "Scampolo". And then we and "Macani" head for town and get a meal in the back-yard veranda with a "seaview" at "G's". It's part four-table caf'e and part storage room for broken chairs. It has bamboo walls painted blue and white, giving it a sort of modern respatex quality. The food is good, plentiful and hearty. And inexpensive: A plateful of beans, calalloo stewing, baked macaroni, rice, a salad and either chicken or fish. All on one plate. A beer, no glass. There's a bright light bulb in the ceiling and the "view" by 7pm is a black sack. But the surf is loud and clear.
After a good meal we progress to "Eastman's", a centrally located caf'e. The S.African boat, "Iguana" is providing guitar accompaniament to reggae/rapp, Belafonte ballads from some Charlotteville boys and half-remembered "Eagles" lyrics from the boat-folk. A good introduction to Tobago!

Against the wind to "Man-of-war Bay"

Seasicknes tablets swallowed, we're off at 11am into the wind and the lumpy seas. "Lille Per" steers and I find it wise to lie down on my off-watches. Pasta in Campbell's mushroom soup is an easy meal, and then it's darkened into night.
Until a Seismic surveying vessel ruins our almost ok course to Tobago. We wait for him, going all of 31/2 knots, and his 4-mile tow of cable. And we are now about 19 nautical miles off course.With a defect autopilot we end up with four hours of hand-steering into the wind to arrive in "Man-of-war Bay" at 11am

Friday the 13th, in harbour

Splashing rain, hard, gusty wind all night and morning. Nope, don't think Friday the 13th is a good day to sail away. We'll just "clear out" (immigration/ customs)There are a lot of Norwegian and Danish boats in now. "Noravind" and Danish "Jonna" among others have anchored, after a struggle, today. And "The Anchorage Yacht Club" will be the meeting place at their "happy hour". Hope the dinghy ride back against the wind doesn't soak us completely!
And tomorrow noon-ish we think we'll brave the wind and currents agaist us and head for Tobago, otherwise just 18 hours away, in fair winds and seas. "Oh,just a two day North Sea crossing" the captain promises, cheerfully. "But, take your seasickness tablets."

It's not Friday the 13th for nothing: poor little "Babettina",the dinghy, punctured at the "Anchorage Yacht Club" pier. By a nail that apparently was noticed and ignored by the local"Yacht Club" folks. So Oernulf drives the hald-inflated dinghy out in the choppy bay back to Babettet to repair the hole.

Come evening we have a big Norwegian, with token Dane, group gathered at The Anchorage veranda bar for a sundowner. All the Norwegian boats are here: "Christiania" and "Veto", "Noravind" and "Sedna", the Danes, "Jonna", and, for us, new faces, the young couple on "Apricus". And "Babette"! That's 10 kids here, there and everywhere. We'll miss them all as our ways part; we're heading South now. A perfect Caribbean evening, the warm darkness, the bittersweet meetings and farewells mixed with coconut and rum.

The View from Hill Fort

In the morning we walk the winding concrete road over to Ashton. By the Clifton schools and the Ashton schools, kids running, sykling, dragging their feet,home for lunch, in their wintery school uniforms. Only it's hot here in the winter. We pass the medical clinic, St. Joseph's Catholic Church, and a few other churches. The grass along the road is mowed and planted as we approach Ashton. Christmas lights hang across the main street. There are a few big houses, but mostly tiny cement ones, a lot of them with their front doors adorned with round Coke and Pepsi signs. They are bars or small "supermarkets". The landscape here is hilly. The volcanic past is visible in the steep pinnacles rising out of the greenery. The Grenadines' highest is here at Union Island.
Back in Clifton we get a good but skimpy meal at The West Indies Restaurant. Then time for another hike.
This time up to the Hill Fort (400M). What a view! In the bay all the coral reefs and sand are as clear as an Admiralty chart. Which they aren't from down in a sailboat. The other nearby islands, Palm, Mayreau, the Tobvago Cays, are close enough to count the sailboat masts in the bays. And we plan our "getaway" towards Tobago. Only I'll have to come up here again before we leave, with a camera!

An internet day

A windy day spent waiting in line at the bank and here, writing at the internet caf'e.

The wind is gusting 35 knots this afternoon. Dark clouds and rain squalls race across the sky. Good to be in a securly moored. We hope.

"Babette" as a good stew in the pot: Good lamb from "The Gourmet Captain", pumpkin, christophenes, potatos, onion and garlic. Don't forget the "green sauce" and white wine. Dessert: no cakes. So what sort of fruit is hanging in the net? Ok, chop the grapefruit and a couple bananas, add some raisons, and, why not a splash of rum? Yum.

Tears for Arne

Today we have a short windy sail to Union Island. but before leaving Saltwhistle Bay we get the heart-rendering message.

Our good Tonstad friend and neighbor, Jostein's godfather, has drowned. Arne Myge, 54 years old, was ice-skating on a lake with his wife, and another couple when the men went through the ice. Arne's life could not be saved. Our hearts reach out to Anne Synnøve and her three boys. A kinder, better man than their father, Arne, you couldn't find.

Both Ørnulf and I have experienced the difficulties of being far away, with the responsibility of a boat anchored in, more or less, third world waters. Sickness, accidents and death never come conveniently. Despite the occational telephone line or internett connection we feel helpless and planets away when tragedy hits our families and friends at home.

Lobster Feast on the Beach

Really. Real lobster. Just a few chicken drumsticks for the kids. We are 10 adults and 8 kids from 5 boats. "Veto", "Christiania" are the organizers. "Noravind", and newly arrived "Sedna" are invited, and "Babette".
A whole-Norwegian lobster feast. It's a great Grand Finale for our five day stay in Paradise. Here is where I first has a taste of snorkling, with a peek at blue and yellow, striped, dotted small fish among the corals, and my first head of "corn rows". The six "neighbor kids" all happy and busy fashioning a huge sand-track to roll sand-balls down. Based on their experience with iced-snow track and balls in Norway! Palm huts under coconut palms serving coconut drinks in the warm, dark evenings, cooling off in the warm waters, just jumping off the boat. The lovely "first communion" youngsters in white dresses, bow ties, and their wise pastor.

A Wise Man

The three "Veto" kiddies, hair brushed, shoes on, and the grown-ups in long slacks/ dresses are at the dinghy dock at 07am. Ready to march up the long steep hill to Mayreau Catholic church. Outside a tiny goat kid kicks up it's heels. Little girls in frilly white dresses and white patent leather shoes are whispering together. Little boys are as stiff as starched collars in their white shirts and black bow ties.
It's their first communion being celebrated in the church today. They soon loosen up a bit as the mass-music starts swinging. There are two guitars amongst the little congregation. A blind man in one row is warming up, a man the row in back of us is out tuning his guitar. The priest has the third guitar. When he's not beating time on the gospels he's carrying. The priest, Fr. Marcus (?), has a way with the kids. He is a warm and inclusive person. When a rather talkative "evangelical" parishener is hushed by the congregation the pastor lets the First Communion kids decide if he can have his say. "Ok, if it's short" in the verdict. And so it was.
It's epiphany and Pr. Marcus tells the kids, and us, about the wise men, not kings, and not necessarily three, if you read what the bible actually says. He encourages his island children to be curious, critical, read with open eyes, like the "scientists", the wise men of the Epiphany. And not to be just "ordinary" and interested in money, motors, and such.
The Philipine nuns and the mothers have baked cakes. and the whole congregation gathers for cake and juice in the next room after mass.

Chocolate cake for breakfast is all very well, but we continue on from the church to "Dennis' Hotel/Restaurant/i-nett caf'e for a church-brunch on the veranda afterwards. It overlooks the larger Saline Bay, with the occational cruise boat.

Back at "Babette" it's time for a swim. This time with snorkling gear on. My first look under the water, into the corals is fabulous, Little blue fish peeking out of holes. Small yellow and orange striped fish chasing each other this way and that. Super!

But "church-coffee" is not over. Eirill of "Veto" invites the whole gang to waffles on the beach! The generator is found and the waffle-iron hot. Fresh hot heart-shaped Norwegian waffles under the palms. yummmmm.

But, that's not all. We still have the red-snappers to eat! The one, bright red, the other with orange and blue tail and head. Almost too pretty to eat!

Corn Rows

A morning dip in the cool-ish bay to clear the coconut punch out of my head. Tricky stuff.
Later, over a lobster salad at the Saltwhistle restaurant we and "Veto" decide to go to the Catholic Church tomorrow morning. At 07:30!

Meanwhile I decide it's time for a "permanent" Caribbean-style. I get a "half-head" of corn rows plaited. A woman on the beach braids hair, and I have mine braided up to head-band height. Nice to have the hair out of my eyes when sailing!

A church with a view

With the generous help from "Veto's" Knut Eirik, Oernulf has got the corroded terminals of the anchor winch fixed. I have been drawing the view from the bow, but am willing to swim over to Veto for a cup of morning coffee.

It's a hot steep climb up to the village and the Catholic Church, from the bay. But the view is worth the sweat! Behind the small stone church is a panorama view of the sea, including all of Tobago Cays right below. the sand distinctly turqoise, the reefs darker blue. Masts and palms are swaying in the swell and the breeze.

Come evening, the various kiddies of "Veto" and "Christiania" are re-distributed according to age to see dvd movies. The adults, with "Babette", have an evening out, under swaying palms. It's dark and warm, with a cool breeze from the windward side. We sit round the big stone tables in the palm huts of the Saltwhistle Restaurant, sampling their various potions. the men withe rum punches, the women with pina colada, a coconut drink. With a punch, too!

Paradise: Saltwhistle Bay!

Just a narrow sandy isthmus, palm trees and leafy bushes between us and the white surf of the windward waters. Here, anchored in 2 meters of turquise water over a sandy bottom, we've sailed right into "Paradise". Just a ripple in this little coral reef guarded bay, the cooling breeze in our hair. Among the palms big black silhouettes of pelicans fishing on the windward side, as the setting sun paints a stroke of gold over the greenery. Thatched palm huts shade tables of the little Saltwhistle resort further along the beach. No, we're not alone in this centrally located paradise , they're are 12 boats now in this tight-packed ancorage. We have "Veto" to starboard, "Christiania" a bit further back, on the rolly outer edge of the bay.

We've had "Christiania" dead ahead on our way over (again!), the crew of two adults hard at it pulling up and down the various sails on this old gaff-rigged ketch. Quite a work-out!
The stepping stone path of windward islands in the Grenadines , rounded and fuzzy green. Far from the rust-red and jagged Cape Verde Islands. From Bequia we have Mustique to port, then we pass close by Canouan. Catholic Rock to starboard just before we approach Mayreau's Saltwhistle Bay, the first little leeward bay on the island. We have Tobago Cays just wet for us now. So now you know how to find Paradise!

Brother King'sTurtles

Park Bay: a dream of a palm-lined beach, azure waters lapping goldens sands, the surf held at bay by the ring of coral reefs. Blink; it's still there. This is on the Atlantic , windward, side of Bequia. the quiet waters are protected by Brute Point and the reefs. We went there to visit Br. King's "Old Hegg Turtle Sanctuary". Here Hawksbill and Green turtles are hatched and given a "head-start" before they are tossed into the ocean for the rest of their 200 year lives.
A walk back along the palm-fringed sea brings us to The Spring Pottery and Art Gallery. The old sugar mill. closed as late as 1940, was a ruin. But it's now carefully restored and is a cool stone pottery workshop and gallery with lovely hand-crafted things from bright clay sculpure to raku burned pottery.

We end our stay at Bequia with a good dinner at Frangipani restaurant, just down the sand-strand path from "Gingerbread", After about an hour we get to order. "No lobster. No conch. No dorado." the waitress then announces. (return to go; do not collect $200!) So we quickly order today's special, which they do have. Calloloo (spinach) soup, gambas, rice, christophenes, chick peas. Lots of it. And when we're stuffed to the gills, lime pie. Good food, and now I don't have to eat for a week!

No motor, no oars

We start the day in Bequia, another windy one, with a short dinghy ride to the pier. Except the motor won't go into gear. So we row. Except one of the plastic "oarlocks" isn't holding the oar. Meanwhile the pier is getting smaller and smaller, the outer edges of the bay and the Atlantic closer and closer. So we carefully row/drift into the "Maverick of Clyde". Rob, busy sewing a sail, diagnoses the outboard with half a glance. It's the split-pin. And it was.
Towed by "Pride of Africa" back to Babette, Ørnulf changes the pin, and lashes the oar into the lock with strips. (What was life like before strips?) And then we can go into town. To look for reserve split-pins.

Easy living or The carrot cake that ran away

There's a certain danger in the warm waters of the Caribbean; you lose our heart to these islands. The easy, slow pace, the easy warm-weather life, the easy smiles. You learn not to miss the hassle of putting on layers of clothes just to shiver your way out to buy a newspaper. So easy just to pull on a t-shirt and shorts, and meander over to a shop or a friend here. And meander back with a liter of long-life milk, two hours of chatting later.

We meet sailors who have stayed. Brenda of "Willow" is in Grenada and can tell us about Trinidad from their six months there. Linda and Rob, a boat engineer, are from Glascow. They built their beautiful ketch, "Maverick of Clyde" in 1991 and sailed away. Years in Greece, Barcelona. Several months in Senegal, Gambia, and then they crossed over to the Caribbean and their boat is home in Grenada now. Fascinating, lovely people!

Our little event of the day was a carrot cake. Okay, it was a mix. But a mix from Norway, carried over the Altantic. And with chopped walnuts, dates, figs, extra real carrots, spices. Almost done, a skillet "bake", piping hot, when...

(A passing dinghy roars by and rocks the boat)

I've got it, no I haven't... HELP! Over it goes, behind the high, gimbled oven. Falling to a thousand hot crumbs back there. Cock-roach feed? Well, we scoop out the bits and pieces onto a dish. The bottom is partially intact. Put it on top of the crumply bits. Hmmmm? Looks sort of like a cake. Let it cool.
Panic backs off as my brain cools down. The cream-cheese and orange icing is thickly spread on top, a few walnut halves for decoration.

Shal we sell it to the "Gingerbread" cake-cafe?
Yummmmmm. Nope

2006: There's Hope!

Hope Bay on the Windward side is a steep taxi ride up and a brisk walk down through a green leafy woods. The path is rock strewn, the old road to the Coconut-palm plantation is slowly becoming a path in the woods. Just as we approach the beach we enter the coconut grove. Watch your head! Coconuts are strewn all over the ground. Some have rooted, shooting an optimistic sprout skywards.
It's a blustery day, grey sea and sky, poor visibility out at sea. The surf is heavy on the narrow sandy beach. Except for one fisherman's cottage, a field and two cows there isn't much sign of life after the demise of Hope Plantation.
We have a sandwich on a dilapidated slightly covered "busstop" bench. Not so covered that the rain wouldn't drench you. This is the Atlantic side and the sea washes in whatever is thrown into it here: plastic bottles, thongs, pieces of rope. So, ignoring this, we enjoy a "filtered" idyllic view of the powerful Atlantic filling little Hope Bay.

Across the cow-field, up a path, we race between rain-showers, using the dense foliage as an umbrella. It's hot. And the showers are good for cooling off on the steep uphill hike. At the top of the hill we suddenly come over a little pool. It's filled with bright purple and pink water-lilies. Soon we're in the Mt. Pleasant area, with big houses and well-kept grounds. Manicured flowering bushes line the lane, along putting-green lawns.

Then we're at Sugar Hill. There's a spectacular view of Admiralty Bay, and a thousand light-bulbs in the elaborate Christmas decoration, complete with Santa, sled and reindeer that we can see from "Babette" in the bay.