Ready, set... GO!

Horn blasts and dinghy-boat escort from "Snorre" sends us out of the Marina at 8:30am. Off and running. And joining the long line of boats leaving the lagoon through the raised bridge at 9am. We're leaving the Caribbean behind. Sailing East and North. The other sailboats evaporate. They're day-sailors to St. Barts. We're soon alone with a pair of Brown Noddies skimming the waves. The pointy volcanic islands sinking slowly into our wake.

Then the wind dies. Hmm, "Day One". How much diesel do we have? No choice, we motor along at 3, 4 knots. All Day. Hot sun, no shade . The skinny solar-panel shadow is an expensive box seat today.
Relief comes as the sun relaxes its grip, about 5pm. Now let's try out some of that vacuum-packed beef! Cpt.Ørnulf makes "The Boys' Dinner": steaks, onions, mushrooms and fried potato-boats. As first mate, Shannon, sneaks some garlic, herbs and red wine into the sauce. Don't tell!

The night brings wind. We're sailing again, about 6kns. all night. After 9hrs. of diesel-gobbling motoring.

Last Caribbean Day

Fair winds to "Sedna"! We send them off with horn blasts, and good wishes. And hope to hear them on the shortwave shortly.
This is our last day in St. Marten. And it's full of busy preparing, organizing, last minute purchases, e-mail check. Call family. And have a short, last evening out with boat-friends.
Tomorrow, shortly before 9am, we're be off. Again, out on the high seas.

After this last Caribbean day.

Mangos from the Marigot Market

Time to fill the stores. With fresh food. We try the fruit and veggie market in Marigot on the French side. There's enough wares in the stalls to fill our bags with passion fruit, mangos, pineapple, christophenes, pumpkins, tomatoes. But we don't find any fresh eggs. The French side is somewhat more cosy than the Dutch. At least around the harbour area. But like the on Dutch side there's heavy traffic and billboard bombarded roads, dirty, dingy buildings lining them.
Back at Le Grand Marché we order meat, deep frozen, vacuum-packed, to be picked up tomorrow.
Tomorrow "Sedna" is leaving. Then us, the day after.

Swing and smoke

At 08:15am we're at Island Water World, waiting for the crane. We have a 8:30am appointment. Except there's a large motor boat that's jumped the queue. It has three (3!) outboards, with 250hp. Each. It's the light boat for the yacht, "A Quieter Place". Hmmm, quieter. With 770 hp?

We wait. waitwaitwait.

Waiting is so much easier among good friends. So we climb aboard the already hauled out "Felicie". Soon "Snorre" captain, Helge and "Blå"'s Kari and Eilif are also on the dock. And Swedish "Sulamitt"'s Thove. And, what do you know, suddenly it's 12 noon and we're up on the hard. Of course then our friendly "Simpson Bay Diesel" repairman is out to lunch.

So, just to pass the time, we scrape off the nasty reddish, round algae growth that serve as platforms for barnacles. Arms aching, we finish that job as the "SB Diesel" man finishes getting the sail-drive repaired. Now it's 5pm. Finally we can head back to our marina slot. Where we should have been already at 11am!

Time for Le Grande Good-by! "Blå" has decided we need a night on the town together. Again. No one protests, so we're 17 with Langesund boat, "Snorre"'s new crew, Snorre. From Langesund! 17 crew from 8 Norwegian boats wander out on the "Vegas" strip and again we end up at "The Warf". Lots of photos, "skoals" and spicy food. Afterwards energeic swing-dance for everyone at the end of the table where the older crowd has settled.

While the more or less young-ish ones sit and smoke.

Jouvert, revisited!

The little green throw-away camera from Trinidad carnival’s "Jouvert" popped up today. Along with the last photo CD from the Caribbean, we get it processed. A lot of body-painted Donald Duck costumed "sailor boys", and gals, appear. In the first, 4am pictures we look sort of concerned. Forced smiles? In the bright daylight pictures at the finish line, we look totally exhausted and a little pleased with ourselves. We had danced Jouvert through the streets of Port-of-Spain all night, ushering in "We Carnival Nice, 2006" in Trinidad.

Flash forward to April in Sint Maarten: we're busy with a lot of boat-errands today, getting ready to sail soon: gas bottles to be filled, the genoa2 to replace the smaller crossing jib.
And tomorrow, an early rise, to move "Babette" to Island Water World Marina for hauling out.

We have an 8:30am appointment.

Le Grande Marchè

Dry good shopping at Le Grande Marchè: Jugs of water, cartons of juice and milk, cans of beer. That's the bulk of the dry goods. Then there's the corned beef, chilli beans and hash. Sardines we still have from the Cape Verde Islands. And a super supply of soups and sauces from our Norwegian visitors in Trinidad. This will be our longest passage, about three weeks to 25 days. Depending.

Upside-down in the saloon storage lockers, the sweat running in a river down (up?) my spine; finally everything is stored, numbered and catalogued. Everyone seems to be having a long work-day today. So when the skies darken, that's 6pm, we join "Snorre" and "Felicie" and trawl the busy, dusty road for a place to eat. No real problem since this main drag is lined with cafés, bars and restaurants. The three girls leading the way choose The Warf, with a live dance band. The three captains following after.
Good, spicy, "blackened" wahi-wahi fish. And then we shake loose stiff muscles with a few swirls on the dance floor.

What a life.

Motor trouble!

Motor trouble! There's water in the gear oil. And that means "Babette" will again have to step onto terra firma. There's plenty of help to be had here; and we're now due to be lifted out at "Island Water World" Marina on Thursday. We think it was our close encounters with lobster pot lines that may have damaged the seal for the sail-drive. That means bad lubricating and that's no good!
Meanwhile, while Ørnulf is up to his elbows in oil, I finished yesterday's food inventory, stores reorganization and shopping lists.

And you thought all we do is go to bars in goggles and goggle at casinos!

We do take coffee and croissant breaks. While shopping for bread at the little French Boulangerie. On their palm fringed veranda overlooking the lagoon. A warm day, cool breeze. Black Frigate birds careening above. This is what we'll remember from our Caribbean sailing.

As we shovel snow next winter.

Celebrations

An sms message from Edina Lalic informs us that we have a wedding anniversary today. What would we do without Edina! Luckily there will be, inadvertently, "celebrations" today.

At 5pm there's a crazy one. We gather all the Norwegians we can and change to swim-wear and snorkeling gear. . We're heading for Jimbo's Rock and Blues Café. And pool-bar. There's a small pool which winds its way around the veranda deck café and past the bar. Bar stools under water. We're eight flipper-and-goggle swimmers, two dry photographers. And that'll be 10 Margaritas, please. A jolly gang, lots of splashing and laughing!

The second "celebration" is even more impromptu. We join a growing circle on the pontoon, and when we reach 14 crew from 7 Norwegian boats we head out to find a place to eat. Ending up at "Boat House", seafood and jazz restaurant. The staff are friendly, pulling together a great amount of small tables, making one 14-crew long table for us. Another great evening, yarns retold.
And how many diesel jerry cans will you be hauling aboard?

Some of us stop by the Casino on the way back. We just have to have a look. Some of the younger crowd throw some $5 chips onto the green felt tables. Cards flying, they gradually lose the lot. "Babette" is among those content to goggle at the betting. And the gaudy, noisy "bandits" under the cold bluish light. Unreal.

At Jimbo's PoolBar, St.Marten

At Jimbo's PoolBar, St.Marten,
originally uploaded by (ble først losset ved) sbvalla.

The Norwegian fleet, Sint Maarten

At 06am we're up, and at 7am we're off on a tailwind sail towards St.Martin (French)/Sint Maarten (Dutch). The tiny, split island that'll be our launching pad to the Azores.
A golden morning and a good sail; we watch heavy rain squalls drench St. Maarten in the distance. By the time we're circling in the bay waiting for the 11:30am bridge opening, the skies have cleared.

We meet other Norwegian boats waiting to pass into the huge lagoon on the Dutch side. A "new" boat, "Chica", is here; two "chicos" have sailed up from Venezuela, where they picked up this "delivery" boat. "Helen Kate" is here to refuel; they will turn south afterwards and head towards Venezuela and new adventures on their way around the world.

Inside, at the Simpson Bay Marina, we meet up again with "Snorre", "Blaa", "Sedna", "Apricus" and "Felicie", a big Norwegian family of boats! We gather at "Jimbo's"(Rock and Blues Café’s) in the evening. A shortwave net is being created by "Sedna's" Svein Hugo, busing typing away on the computer. The others are busy discussing provisioning, routes and weather.

Whatever is on our minds?

Swimming with Turtles

Light-green lace fans gently swaying in the warm current. We’re swimming in a coral garden where live coral animals in a myriad of shapes and colors mimic plants. There are mustard colored "lettuce leaves", rust-red "branches", light yellow Brain coral. Hiding in the nooks and crannies, under shelves clownish aquarium fish peek at us, then dart out, their bright parrot colors, spots and stripes glowing. A skinny "walking stick" fish perches itself vertically, mimicking the swaying corals. An animal playing plant. Only the "plants" are animals! Black spiny corals threaten with their infection-causing spikes. Most of the corals have a stinging secretion, so all is not paradise in this garden of eden.
And were already excluding real nasties like Portuguese man-of-wars, stingrays, barracudas and sharks!

On our second forage out we're snorkeling back, over the grey-blue bottom, a starfish-pattern in the sand. When whom do we spy? A big turtle. And with what looks like a long dorsal fin?! Only it's not; it's a long fish, in fact there are two of them. They're feeding on parasites they find on the turtle's shell. A win-win scheme.
Suddenly this huge sea-turtle paddles upwards through the blue water. He gains a greenish color towards the top, sheds his fishy friends, as he gasps for air at the surface. Just in front of Ørnulf and me. A few more gulps of air and he's diving down in the murky depths again.

A bitter-sweet last glimpse into the watery deep. At our next stop, St.Marten we'll be busy busy with onshore "marina" life. Fixing, provisioning, watching the weather. At our last stop.

Our launch-pad to our second Atlantic sail. To The Azores.

From megayachts to Rockefeller's haven

We leave the mega yachts of Gustavia, two Swedish and two Norwegian slightly smaller, ocean-sailing boats behind, and motor in the hot, still air up to Anse du Colombier. On the NW peninsula of St. Barts. Just an hour up the coast.
We meet turtles already on our way in, and soon we're hearing exclamations from snorkeling boat-neighbors: "A turtle, a really big one!" This quiet little "turtle bay" used to be the private playground of the Rockefeller family we're told. Now it's a Marine Reserve. Anchoring is forbidden. So we use the government provided moorings. And help give the corals and turtles a chance.

We settle in, take a swim. And make a carrot cake.

Shell beach, St.Barts

Perfect little shells, a whole little beach of them. And bathtubwarm waters in this tiny bay. Some of the shells come with a natural little hole, just right to string into a necklace.

In the evening Norwegian boats "Apricus" and "Helen Kate" sail in. We're in the water when "Apricus" arrives, and soon Sonja and Øivind join us for a cooling pow-wow. In the clear azure waters.

Our own little snorkling beach, Swedish sushi

Lars and Hilderud from "Ramnoe" and we rent a little red car to see St.Barts. That takes only a couple hours, so we pack snorkeling gear in the trunk. When we get to the lovely little sand/shell beach, Petite Anse, we have it to ourselves. Two snorkel expeditions with a baguette-and-cheese picnic in between. The fish are fabulous. A big bright blue, purple-edged one is my favorite.
The roads are unbelievably steep, concrete, sharp edged, just enough breadth for two tiny rental cars. When the big cement trunk roars up it's nice to be on the inside track. The precipice with the ocean view can wait.

Come evening another Swedish boat-friend, Sven from "Alma", brings over his catch of Kingfish which he has made "gravfish" out of. Raw fish treated in such a way as to make it edible. And it is! We all gather at "Babette" for the feast, the two Swedish boats and us. Boiled potatoes, flatbread and butter, a salad, wine. Later coffee and cake. We all contribute something to Sven’s fabulous fish feast.

Airplane acrobatics

A walking tour of Gustavia. We see all the stone, brick and wood shingle evidence of its Swedish past. But the most exiting "exhibit" is the runway. The small airplanes using this short strip come around and between some hills before diving down to the runway. Then stopping just short of the bluegreen waters at the far end. If you go up to the round-about (circle) just west of the center of town you'll be about level with the landing planes. On this Easter Monday they seemed to land about every 5, 10 minutes.

Easter morning, St.Barts

It's a bright, golden morning, Easter Sunday. And last night we had a gentle motor sail to St. Barts. The westerly winds, a bit on the north side, were light, the night watches uneventful. At 6am we're approaching the hills and outlying rocks of Gustavia Bay (Rade de Gustavia). The tall mast at the entrance is Norwegian "Canica". At 7am we've tossed out our anchor, 8 meters, into the clear bluegreen waters. We have Swedish "Ramnsoe" beside us; "Full Circle" is on its way in.
Gustavia Harbor today is mega yachts with helicopters where we would have a dinghy. The boats are polished to a blinding white, with smoked black windows, not much deck. These floating 5-star hotels are a bit out of touch with the lovely warm waters surrounding them. As "Babette"s crew jump off the boat.
Gustavia of yesteryear was St.Bart's Swedish capital for about 90 years. It seems Louse XVI traded St. Barts, its 600 Normandie farmers included, for some dubious trading rights in Gothenburg, Sweden. Then the French got it back for 80,000 francs almost a century later. The hard-working French farmers barely noticed the exchange of European rulers.
The Swedes had done some building on the island. Some of these houses can still be seen. First floor stone, second in wood. They also gave St.Barts a lucrative "free trade" status. Which some yachties and tourists still appreciate today.

We're content to have lunch on the pier with "Full Circle", and, later, a good boat-made Easter cake at Swedish "Ramnoe". And to see another day's orange ball of fire be quenched in the azure blue waters.

Check-out at Barbuda

Check-out at Barbuda is different. No dinghy docks, so you brave the surf, passport and boat-papers in water-proof plastic bag. Today it's definitely a swim wear exercise. Landing near the verrrry exclusive hotel a watchman is skeptical to our dinghy beach-landing. But we have a date down the beach with George, the taxi driver. For the slight fee of $60, sixty US dollars (!), he will drive you to Codrington, then around the village so you can see the three officials who need to stamp hour papers, and back.
First the Harbor Master. Not home. Three houses down at the bar he and his pals are enjoying a Carib and a game of cards. But he will stamp the papers we fill out if George gets them from his house. One down.
Two to go. Next stop, "Customs". He's at home, but asleep. Now on his feet, he has a great deal for us to fill out. Some are 6 carbon-copy forms.
One to go. At the Airport. That's a dusty walk along side the runway's wire fence. And into a little one-room building. "Immigration". Now the last signatures and stamps are procured. But as "Full Circle" had already described the entire process our repeat was no surprise.

Back to dinghy. A wet launch, but successful. And now, back at "Babette", where to and when?
St. Barts? A night sail? The wind is suddenly from the west. The west! And our "guaranteed" following-wind sail has died. The dinghy lashed on deck, motor mounted aft, the wind is worse than ever, WNW. Right in our face.

But the die is cast. Just before sundown we tip-toe out between the reefs: A night sail to "Swedish" St. Barts.

Passing Montserrats puffing volcano

At 7:30am we're following our gps breadcrumbs back out of Nonesuch Bay. Heading for Barbuda. We're outside the nasty reefs with two reefs in the main. And then only one. We're sailing with just the mainsail, tailwinds.
Out on the horizon the live volcanic island of Montserrat is distinct in the clear skies. It is sending up thick clouds of hot steam into the air. The last time it had a major eruption it destroyed much of the island, and devastated the population. But no pyrotechnics today.
From the upside-down ice cream cone summits of Montserrat we arrive at the pancake-flat island of Barbuda. Wind-blown, sandy outpost of Antigua. It has a private exclusive hotel-with-airplanestrip. And a tiny dirt-road village, Codrington. And is encircled by fine white sand beaches.
We anchor beside "Full Circle" at 14:30. The water is translucent turquoise, cool after a hot sun sail.

Three Norwegian boats, and a cat on the reefs

The wind is blowing 20kn, but the surrounding reefs quiet the seas in Nonesuch Bay. At 7am "Full Circle" (Annapolis, USA) and our fellow Norwegian boat-neighbor, "Canica", a rather large sloop, five spreaders in the mast, apparently with Stein Erik Hagen and family/friends on board, leave the bay. We're waving goodbye. To John and Karen on "Full Circle".
A calm and lovely day. Warm sun, cool breeze and waters. We chat with the Norwegian "Caro", snorkel a bit. And then do some Polynesian dreaming of Fatuhiva, deep into Ragnar Kvam's Thor Heyerdahl biography. Which we're borrowing from s/y"Fatuhiva". Surrounded by reefs and small green islands in a bluegreen sea it's not hard to be swallowed up by Kvam's page-turner.

Just as the magic hour before sunset arrives, giving some relief from the sun, we suddenly hear some shouting and whistling. A catamaran is stuck on "Middle Reef". Everyone else is glad it's not them. With a long rope another (rental-) cat manages to pull them off. And they're still afloat as the sky darkens. And a big orange moon rises.

Reef labarynth into Nonesuch Bay

What a name, "Nonesuch Bay". Like "Saltwhistle", we just had to go and see it. Even if it does have a tricky, reefy entrance. The weather's calm-ish and we're off at 11:30am for a two hour headwind motor sail.
We're soon rounding York Island, and ready to dot to waypoint-dot ourselves through the reefs. We hope. If the gps satellites are behaving and the maps are accurate down to this scale. But we have reality also. There's Green Island, which we're rounding. We watch the turquoise waters, green over sand, brownish over grass or coral, our depth instrument is another loyal friend.
We thread ourselves around behind Green Island. And arrive in a rather large anchorage, with only 10, 12 boats. Our anchor's down at 2pm; we are the third Norwegian boat. That's a good percentage for such a little country. Our Annapolis boat-friends on "Full Circle" are there, too. Nice to have them aboard "Babette" as "lunch" becomes "dinner", while the sun sets beyond the reef breakwaters. And the full moon rises into a huge open sky.

Devil's Bridge and a view to "Nonesuch Bay"

Rental-car day! As a "bug" as disturbed my insides, I'm happy just to be sitting somewhere semi-air-conditioned. So, we bump along Antigua's unsigned roads, first to Jolly Harbour. Ho, ho, not so Jolly today, I trudge along behind Cpt.Oernulf as he inspects the fleet.
And, off we go again. The roads bare a certain resemblance to Granada's, no road signs. A little Texaco tourist map, the position of the sun and of the Texaco stations are our only clues. Eventually we find the airport.
At the airport we find the Cricket Club. Which has a crickety sports bar ala a TGIFriday's restaurant. Really. Oernulf ate both our huge sandwiches and I enjoyed the cool air-conditioning.
Back in our rent-a-wreck we map-and-compass onward towards the Devil's Bridge, out at Indian Town Point. On the way we have an interesting plantation-ruin stop. "Betty's Hope" has a good little visitor's center in an old stone house. In it there's a fabulous model showing the workings of the whole plantation from sugar cane, milling to rum distilling. So many tiny slaves, laborers and skilled craftsmen in this incredibly detailed model. The pictures on the wall show a train engine; it wouldn't be an English colony without a train somewhere!
There are explanatory sign out in the now empty fields, some ruins and two restored windmills, still standing. And I'm on my feet now, too. Feeling better.

Off to Devil's Bridge! We park and walk out onto the hard limestone rock, pocked and pitted by the sea. The spit faces into the relentless battering of the trade winds and waves that bunch up in these shallow waters, then crash constantly onto the rock. They've dug under a shelf and we can feel wave after infernal wave pounding beneath our feet. At places the waves have broken through the top creating a narrow bridge where the limestone is still intact. Great splashes of foam and bluegreen wave rise up on both sides of the slippery bridge.

From Devil's Bridge we can see across to the turquoise, reef filled waters of Nonesuch Bay, tomorrow's destination. That'll be a tricky one. You have to follow a narrow navigable path between the reefs. Looks obvious on the chart. Only the signposts are all under water.

Vicious thorns!

We are climbing up, up up the dusty trail to Shirley Heights. We are "Fatuhiva" and Shannon. Oernulf has had enough exercise wrestling with the water tank today, he says.

Monster Aloes and bundles of "cucumber" cacti tower over us. The giant flowering Century Plants are king of the foliage. The 12feet stalk with its saffron-yellow crown attracting a court of adoring hummingbirds. There is a sort of "flower pot" cactus, too. It's a huge, round spiky cactus with a blood-red cylinder growing out of the center. Nasty looking, with sweet pink flowers blooming from its top. It also has vicious thorns. They lie, sprays of them, spike up along the path. Then they penetrate sandals and tennis shoes like a needle through a thumb. Ow. There are also razor-edged aloes, too (not the nice Aloe Veras). They attack "Fatuhiva"s Bjarne sending a stream of blood down his arm.
But up we climb on to the undulating cliffs looking out over the foamy sea to a light blue silhouette in the horizon that is Guadeloupe. Huffing and puffing at the top we find goats showing off, jumping from rock to rock.
It's just a half mile downhill slide back to Freeman Bay, our anchorage. Our last hike with "Fatuhiva".

And, come evening, we have the last of many, many great meals with our sailing friends, on their boat. Tomorrow we'll be parting ways. For now. Farwell and Fair winds, Fatuhiva!

Meanwhile, back at "Babette"...!

It’s the foot pump under the sink that's the sinner. Sending a trickle of water down into the bilge, and then spilling over onto our wall-to-wall-carpet-covered floor-boards. The whole tank! Luckily we're not out on the Atlantic right now.
Before breakfast Oernulf has the pump removed and wood plugs pounded into place. And, miracle of miracles, "Fatuhiva" has a brand-new pump in reserve which fits. And now it is installed in "Babette". Now all we need is water.

Now we're all ready for a walk in "Nelson's Dockyard". The Dockyard was never Admiral Horatio Nelson's favorite places. It was "vile". Of course he was slightly prejudiced, being forced into boat-arrest on his HMS Boreas in the harbor. The local businessmen were upset about not being able to trade freely, just with English boats, now that Nelson was in command.
But the brick buildings from 1725 on are beautifully restored now. The "Naval Officer’s House is the museum. The oldest house, "Pitch and Tar Store" is the popular "Admiral's Inn". Incredible pillars from the "Old Boat House and Sail Loft" are now standing, like thick palm trunks along the shore. The colonial buildings are all aged red brick, white trim and grey-blue shutters, edged with palms and flowering bushes, and lovely lawns and paths. Well-kept and tidy. Verrry British.

We take a walk out on the peninsula, Middle Ground, getting a good view of all the bays, inlets and anchorages. It's easy to understand why the British would want a cannon or ten up at the top of this hill. The landscape is dry. Cacti and Aloes, and flowering "Century Plants", their stilts high above our heads, crowned with clusters of bright yellow flowers. And tiny hummingbirds helping themselves to the nectar. Back on the ground little goats are munching on the dry grass between the cacti. No rain forests here.

Come evening we're on our way up to Shirley Heights. We're joining American boat, "Full Circle" at a "Pan Band, Jump-up Barbecue". The view over English Harbor from this side is just as panoramic. And fabulous as the sun sets in the sea.

Later, returning from "Full Circle" where we stopped to chat, we get an unpleasant surprise back at "Babette". The wind has died and she has wandered over to neighbor boat, "Sea Terror" and they're now touching. "Sea Terror" is an old Life Boat out of Stornaway, Outer Hebrides. Now with a mast on it. And its rope leads down to a mooring we learn. That's why it doesn't swing like an anchored boat. We pull in some chain, and gain a little elbow room. Can we sleep now?

Dot to dot on the Riviere Salee

It's been a warm mosquitoe-y night. A squall passing by has just dumped a load of rain on us. And by 4am the coffee is waking us up. The anchor's weighed. We can make out four sailboats aiming for the red and green blinking lights in the black waters.
Up at the starting point we find two catamarans, two more single-hull sailboats. We all mill about, careful to keep off the shoals as we wait for the booms to fall and the bridge to open. An American boat, "Romance", is first in line. But the current is too strong, their speed too slow. And they are soon broadside the entrance. Now they're hitting a piling at the other side. They're on the bottom! Will they be stuck in the mud under the bridge all day? No, freed and backing off, they're heading back to the end of the queue. The French are going through, then the American, "Full Circle", and then us, the two Norwegian boats. It's full throttle against the whirling currents, and we're charging into "Full Circle"s stern in front of us, avoiding them by going along side. We all make it through, "pani pwoblem". "Romance", too.
As we approach bridge number two the black sky is softening about the edges. The mango trees, their tight foliage now a silhouette in a grey-blue sky. Gold trim on the Eastern horizon. The mangrove roots are black stilts in the brilliant blue-green waters. White egrets flying low, scooping mosquitoes as they go. When we're not concentrating on keeping off the shoals it's a lovely dawn.
We're all through the last red-green gate, now in deep waters. The sails are hoisted and we're on the wind, doing our six knots. "Fatuhiva, 38', is pulling ahead. The autopilot steering, it's a good sail in steady winds all the way to Antigua.

Our only worry is that the cabin sole, "Babette"s floor, is full of water?! Hmmm. Luckily it tastes fresh, not salt. That's good. Is the water tank emptying itself?

Shallow waters

At 4pm "Fatuhiva" and "Babette" have slipped their ropes and are leaving the Marina. On our way to the mooring buoys at the entrance to the channel at Riviere Salee. From red to green buoy we steam forward avoiding the shallows. We hoped. But not "Fatuhiva", twice touching bottom. She's exactly too deep for the moorings. So back to an anchorage at Pointe-a-Pitre for the night.

A spectacular fireworks-sunset fills the sky behind black silhouetted containers and cranes. As the sky turns ash-grey it's time to turn in for a short night, with the alarm set for 03:45am. Will we manage the not-so-straight and narrow path and avoid the shoals tomorrow?

We Tarzan et Jane!

All night the rain is splashing down, drenching "Babette". At 8am we and "Fatuhiva" are to meet at the rental-car. Hmmm. And in the morning: more rain. Gallons of it, could've filed the whole water-tank during breakfast.

But at 8 we're off, window-wipers beating double time. Guadeloupe is a butterfly, the wings divided at the "Riviere Salee" channel. We take the "Grand Terre" wing first. That's the flat one. Cows and sugar cane. And a black-and-white checkered cemetery. It's mid-island at Morne-a-l'Eau. Diamonds and checkerboards in tile decorate the mini-houses and patios of this French Caribbean grave-city.
An amazing sight. By now the sun's out, bright on the shiny tiles.
After this first loop we cross the Riviere Saltee. Peering down from the bridge we see the four white moorings for the boats waiting for the bridge to open. That's where we'll be Saturday at 4:45am!

Now we're on "Terre Bas". If "Grand Terre" was pancake-flat, "Bas" has the Caribbean’s highest volcanic summit. I'm not sure how the French managed these misnomers.
We take the Route de la Traversee up into the rain forest and stop at a zoo-cum-botanical garden. All mixed up with lush rain forest. Enormous fans of bamboo, tall tree-trunks heavy with vines, air plants and wrapped in someone else's roots. In between there are flowering plants, their names in French printed on signs. There's a wood/stone pathway leading visitors through the labyrinth park. Dotting the path are cages, housing parrots, iguanas, monkeys, bats, all now native to the island.
Then we arrive at the park's main attraction: the path up in the canopy. First we get into climbing harnesses and carbine-hook ourselves onto a center guy-wire. Two wires for hand rails, two creaky planks to walk on. With two people at a time (allowed) the hanging bridges swing and roll with each step. From bridge to bridge we climb higher and higher into the leafy canopy. Any apes or parrots? I mean besides us. We, Tarzan-and-Jane!
We see a lot of sunny green leaves above, air plants and vines, and the shadowy dark forest floor far below.

Marina life: mooo!

"Marina Bas du Fort" is super. We can just walk off the boat onto terra firma; that's good. Running water; with no meter, right on the dock; very good. Showers, no coins needed, just push the water button every three seconds; good, good. Electricity to charge the boat battery; good. Now give me a tub, a TV, and a microwave for my cold cup of tea and it'll be just like home.
Some of the mega yachts tied up here are most likely equipped with all that. This is a posh place.
Cafés and restaurants further along on the boardwalks, chandleries and souvenir shops. But where we are it's quiet, a pleasant place. The occasional cow mooing; very pastoral.

More photos

Photos from Trinidad, Union Islands and Martinique are up now (slideshow here.)


monkey

Passe de la Baleine: Whale Sound

We pass through "Whale Sound" at about 8:30am. "Fatuhiva" is just ahead, Danish, "Najad" leading by about an hour. We're all heading for Guadeloupe.
An hour later, just a few boat lengths behind "Fatuhiva I notice a spume of spray. It can't be a reef?! A broad dark "reef" with a dorsal fin rises from the foam, then goes down again in another spout of fishy spray. Wow. Our first whale! A humpback? And at a comfortable distance from "Babette". Perfect.

Guadeloupe: Tied, nose first, onto a dock in "Marina bas du Fort" near Pointe-à-Pitre, beside "Najad", "Fatuhiva" two boats down, we discuss whales. We all prefer seeing them to running into them. We hear "Agape" has three hits.

Kids and Iguanas

Down in the grassy moat outside the stone walls of Fort Napoleon goats are munch, munch, keeping the jungle at bay. The kids are busy showing off and climbing the outer, ever so slightly inclined walls, searching for greener, juicier grass. Perched on the near vertical stone walls. A great circus act.
There's a sideshow of REAL! LIVE! weird and dangerous-looking beasts, too. Iguanas. Green or brown, they're taking a slowwwwww walk out of their dinosaur past; blinking in the sunshine, they can't believe what they're seeing. We shoot them with our digital cameras, zoommmmm, as they promenade along the inner perimeter. We're across the wide grassy mote following on the outer wall.
We never got inside Napoleon’s Fort; it's only open in the mornings. But we did see acrobatic kids and prehistoric iguanas.

A day at the Beach

You might think the beach is an everyday thing in the Caribbean. But then you're not on "Babette". Or "Fatuhiva". Neither of the captains of these sailing vessels are known for their fondness of sand or hot towels lying in the blazing sun.
But the beach at Les Saintes is lovely. In the shade of leafy trees there are sturdy picnic pavilions. Beyond a white sand beach. This cul-de-sac little bay is protected: no noisy motorboat traffic, just azure-blue waters at bath-tub temperatures.
Oernulf and Bjarne snorkel, finding pretty "aquarium fish", but only dead corals. While Mette and I find an iguana in the grassy shadows on land. Lots of dips in the cool water are needed to enjoy the warm grassy spot we've found.

But soon we're all restless and on our way up a hill to another fort. This tiny archipelago witnessed the biggest sea battle in the whole French-English war here. So forts are abundant.

As abundant as the magic sunsets every night. This one we see from "Fatuhiva", eating Bjarne's baccalào espesial.

The Saints on April Fool's Day!

It was in 1493 that Colombus sailed into this archipelago, on November 1st, All Saints Day. Los Santos is now Les Saintes.

We start off at 9am, April Fool's Day. By 10:30 we have steady light winds from behind; a pleasant sail at four knots.
Until suddenly it says,"STOP!" A sort of scraping noise under the hull and then "Babette" screetches to a halt!?! Two clear plastic water bottles bound together with blue plastic twine and, quite a distance beyond, a little whitish ball: we're caught in a net! A fishy sort of feeling of being trapped. Or more like a fly. How do we escape from this nasty spider's web?
Cpt. Oernulf, in his swim trunks, knife between his teeth, goes overboard to get an underwater view of the situation. Up onboard again, the propeller released, we're off. Keep a sharp eye out ahead!

By 13:30 we're again anchored beside "Fatuhiva", now in Le Bourg des Saintes. These small islands, a part of Guadaloupe, are only 17 nm from Dominica, but on a different planet. We're back in the EC, the European Community, with the Euro and the subsidies that go with it.
The little village has a pedestrian-only main road lined with pretty small shops with gingerbread edging. Flowers bloom in the well-kept gardens. The smooth asphalt roads are full of small rental scooters. Even the volcanic hills are lower, more rounded, less wild than in Dominica. In the harbor a handful of sailboats are bobbing, not a single boat-salesman or dinghy-watcher to be seen.

As darkness quickly falls we can see the blinking city-lights of Guadaloupe in the distance. That will be our last French Antilles stop.