SJ log for Feb 14 - How to tell yachties from cruisers

Thursday, February 14, 2008

The kickoff for this blog posting is definitely, big and expensive boats since that's what we're seeing in the harbor today. We are still in Bequia and enjoying being anchored in this beautiful protected harbor very much. If you’ve seen the earlier blogs perhaps you saw the photos of the harbor and downtown, as well as a few of the beautiful sunsets we’ve been fortunate to see lately.

Megacruiser with helicopter pad AND waiting helicopter

And speaking of photos, check out this one here of a 120-foot power luxury yacht that is anchored a few hundred yards from away to our port stern. Now it’s not that unusual to see a few of these expensive crewed “mega yachts” arrive in Bequia, and it’s not even that unusual to see them with a pad on top where a helicopter could land if need be. But what IS unusual is seeing one with a helicopter already on board just sitting there waiting to be deployed. Check out the rotor blades under the white cover on the top aft deck (guess the helicopter is trying to be incognito).

We also had a larger visitor in port today with this six-masted schooner (sort of a modified tall ship/cruise ship combination). I’m not sure how many people this one holds but this morning the tenders began running back and forth to shore bright and early, and when I went ashore to run errands today I noticed more people in town than I’ve seen so far this trip.

I don’t think I have a photo of this one but one of our “boat neighbors” that’s been here for a few days like us is this beautiful Hinckley yacht to our starboard aft. You sailors out there will recognize the Hinckley name (they are beautiful hand built boats which of course makes them very expensive (as opposed to the more mass produced fiberglass ones like we have which keep the price affordable for “regular people” like us. Hinckleys are built in Maine, and Tim and I hope to tour their workshop and yard someday soon. The couple on the boat is an older couple sailing apparently just the two of them, and I’d guess they are in their 60’s or perhaps even low 70’s. I told Tim that’s how I want to be when I’m there age – still out there doing physical things like sailing. They don’t appear to be cruisers exactly because we don’t see the traditional markings of cruisers like wind generators and passive solar panels; and of course they don’t appear to be working constantly on their boat like most cruisers do (always something or other that needs attention). But then, perhaps there’s less that will need attention when you start with a Hinckley in the first place.

It’s interesting how the longer we remain in harbor at Bequia and the more the local boat vendors see us working on our boat, the less they stop to ask if we want to buy something, unless of course we wave them over for some reason. They’re not being impolite, but rather it just seems they know that vacationers have money to spend, and cruisers usually don’t. Most cruisers I know are not independently wealthy, but rather just regular working people like Tim and I who have simply chosen a different way of life. Not to confuse cruisers with "yachties" as they are sometimes called - that's more of the trust fund set who typically have fully crewed "yachts" which the crew delivers to wherever they want it to be, and then the yachties come aboard for a while and then disappear again for months on end -- leaving the crew to once again taken over and deliver it to the next port of call they decide to visit.

Tim and I are fans of Tom Neale, a writer who has also lived aboard and with his wife of course raised two daughters from birth to when they went away to college on their boat the Chez Nous (that’s French for “our house”). I love a snippet he tells of someone who once asked him, “Why do you live on a boat?” And his reply was, “Why do you live in a house”? Good answer.

Dinghy dock nearest to center of town (this is a new dock and it's much nicer than most and even has a "step" for ease in getting in and out of dinghy

Cruisers and “boat people” aren’t really that different than anyone else, except perhaps for our priorities. Rather than houses and cars and clothes and jewelry, most live quite frugally without these things and just put that money toward their “boat life.” And of course boats (like most houses) are not inexpensive to buy and maintain. There’s a joke among sailors, fishermen and other nautical types – that hardware items triple in price when you put the world “marine” in the label somewhere. Perhaps a slight exaggeration, but then again, maybe it’s not. And just like there always seems to be yet another project that needs to be done in a “land based” home, the same is true for a sea-based home.

I’ve also discovered over the years as I’ve met more and more cruisers here and there, that most cruisers are also very resourceful people who learn to tackle all kinds of electrical, carpentry, plumbing and other tasks on their own, because paying hourly rates for someone in a marine yard is often both time-consuming and expensive. That’s what this trip is all about for us – learning as much as we can about how to maintain SJ ourselves.

Hmmmm.... where does that hose go to anyway?

We’ve been in SVG for 10 days now, and I think we’ve been in the water once (twice if you count me jumping in a few minutes ago to cool off after working below with Tim on our freshwater system). And we’ve taken time for one snorkel outing/long swim a couple of days ago. We kept thinking we’d take a few days and swing down to the Tobago Cays or perhaps Mustique which we’ve never seen before, but it just doesn’t seem to fit in with the purpose of this trip, so invariably we seem to find ourselves with the floorboards pulled up below and tracing freshwater lines looking for leaks, visiting the local canvas store to price privacy panels for the cockpit area (my personal splurge since I’ll be here alone for several weeks), or happily working together on some other boat project or another.

Fortunately for me Tim learned much from his dad about how to make things and work with his hands, so he has some experience with mechanical things. I was always amazed at how resourceful Darvin was and how thrifty – he could always seem to do more with less than anyone I know. I’ve always considered that to be a very valuable trait, so I’m fortunate that Tim is picking up those same traits as he gets older. Just the other day he was talking about wanting to find some small pieces of wood for shimming up our cutlery drawer (it’s actually a rather large and heavy unit of three drawers in one housing). And today we were walking down the street in Port Elizabeth to locate a backup snubber line (for the anchor), and as luck would have it, we passed a store that had left pieces of some type of crate on their steps for anyone who might want the leftovers wood scraps. How cool is that? They do that in Maine too – if you have something you can’t use but that’s in good shape, when the weather is good people will put it next to the road with a “free” sign on it, and then if someone wants it they just cart if away; otherwise, it is picked up by the rubbage collectors the next time around. I like that – the ultimate “reduce, reuse, recycle” (close the loop) way to live. Now that’s a motto I can get excited about (what can I say, I’ve always been a cheap date). :>)

In addition to our delight at finding those wood scraps, our “hunt” for today was for that backup snubber line which we’re probably going to have to do without because it sems no one has those parts, a section of pipe that we can use to extend the throttle handle on the dinghy (that will allow me to sit farther forward when driving the dinghy alone for better visibility and less chance of the wind catching the front end in a big blow), and finally some additional pipe for that pesky freshwater system. We have two freshwater tanks for a total of just under 100 gallons of freshwater aboard – one tank located under the berth in our front cabin, and another down low in the port lazerette (under the cockpit). According to the Jeanneau owner’s manual that we studied last night after having retreated below to escape the howling winds that regularly appear after dark, there are lines that run from those locations to the sinks in the head, galley and forward cabin; and also to the water heater under the salon table, plus a couple of vents for overflow – in short this means the source of our leak could theoretically anywhere along the way in that system. Playing the odds however, we started with the most likely culprits which are the joints and where the hoses connect to the tanks and such, and we found no less than three damaged hoses and/or coupler problems.

Bequia hospital (one street above main street and one below Sunshine School)

One of those problem areas is related to the hot water heater which involves electrical, so we’re not tackling that one since we don’t have the know-how yet; and setting the boat on fire can really ruin your week. But after chatting with Winston from TMM via Skypephone yesterday, we’re going to try and bypass the hot water unit all together and therefore avoid that pesky electrical problem for now. The boat will still heat the water when we run the engine to charge the fridge and house batteries, but of course we won’t have a way to keep the water hot for long durations. So that means showers and washing dishes will be with cold water from here on. It’s a choice, and if we can fix enough of the leaks to minimize our freshwater loss, I’m cool with making do with cold water for the next few weeks until I (or we if Tim is able to return) take the boat back to SV before I leave in mid-March.

Taxi stand under the almond tree in downtown Bequia. The almond tree is a common meeting place in town, so it's natural the taxi stand just evolved in this spot.

As I write this Tim and I just finished crawling around among the opened floorboards in the saloon below as we traced the tubing here and there, and while I replaced and used my handy Phillips screwdriver to replace the boards we no longer need access to, Tim has dinghied ashore again in search of PVC pipe for the dinghy handle extension and couplings for the water system repairs we think are feasible with minimal expense. I’m also staying aboard to monitor the engine as we run it to charge the fridge and house batteries, something we do at least 2 and occasionally 3 times a day as needed.

It’s warmer today, probably about mid-80’s and the winds have thankfully abated a bit to a more tolerable 10-20 knots instead of the 20-35 “blows” we’ve had the last several days. I’m up to in the cockpit under the bimini (sort of an awning over our cockpit to give you some relief from the full onslaught of the sun). As I’m working up here I have a great view of the harbor and I’m continually amazed at what a busy working harbor it is – it reminds me much of our harbor in Portland. Like our harbor, this one is always busy- many people working on their boats just like us (mostly cruisers and other “liva aboards”), tenders ferrying people to and from the cruise ship in the outer harbor, and water taxis delivering people here and there. Water taxis are single engine open boats ranging from the small dory size (around 10 feet) to 20-foot boats capable of sprinting people to and fro in a hurry.

Bequia library

I also see the familiar yellow and blue Daffodill barges gliding among the boats like a floating delivery company -- only here they deliver ice, water and laundry that’s been washed, dried and folded for only about 30 EC a load (less than $12 US). It’s about 3:30pm local time, and that’s prime arrival time for those making later arrivals into the harbor for a night’s stay. We are anchored as are most of the small group of cruisers who are here. Since this is not exactly a “vacation” trip for us, I consider us more of the cruiser or liveaboard visitor this trip – where as typically I’d consider us tourists or vacationers. Cruisers tend to anchor when they can because that is free, while moorings are often $15 US per night, and you can’t always be sure how secure the mooring is in some areas. As less developed countries become “discovered” and local harbors realize the earning potential of a mooring, which is much faster and easier (especially for those uncomfortable with anchoring), the spots left open for anchoring can become harder to find. Fortunately while in Bequia, even though we’ve moved the boat a time or two, we’ve found a couple of nice “holes’ among the moorings, and with the bottom of nice sand we’ve found the holding to be good so far. That’s pretty important given the gale force blows we’ve had in recent days.

Each time I go ashore here I’m reminded of how much I like the people in SVG, but particularly in Bequia. I like the way they smile and call you “my friend” when you deal with them in a respectful and friendly way. I like the way they look you right in the eye when they talk to you. I like the way they mind their business and leave you to mind yours, and the overall “live and let live” attitude they seem to have about life. What a concept. I like the simple and understated way they cook their food, with a great blend of spices and vegetables and legumes to add flavor and “substance” to the taste, and how they waste very little of whatever it is they are using in the dish. Bequia may be a small island in a small island chain that is St. Vincent and the Grenadines, but I think I could get used to living here.

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SJ log for Feb 13 - Boat maintenance continues continues while "on the hook" in Bequia

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

After a light breakfast to finish up the last of my homemade banana bread and coffee, today was another maintenance intensive day, and with teamwork we made a lot of headway in completing items on our list. I dug out a bucket from the cockpit port lazerette, tied a line to it and used seawater to clean the cockpit. Fortunately I remembered this time to close the hatch into the aft cabin BEFORE doing that so as not to turn it into an indoor swimming pool down there (most people only have to do that once to remember the next time). One of the things you learn quickly on a boat is “always protect your bed” – because if go ashore and forget to close that hatch over the berth and one of those typical tropical showers (often more like monsoons) happens while you’re away, it can make for a very wet and uncomfortable night.

Tim took on the chore of cleaning up the port lazarette which is about the size of a small household closet but located under the cockpit seating area. Access to parts of this area involves climbing down into the lazarette – because here we store not only our docking lines and fenders on a high shelf, but also below we have fenders, kayak paddles, boat hooks, and other miscellaneous gear. We worked together to organize and repair any gear in the lazerette that needed work - taping frayed lines, checking and removing rust from spare anchor tackle (chain and rode), cleaning and restowing life jackets, etc.

Tim also climbed down into the other somewhat smaller area in the transom (very back of the boat) and inspected our steering system and cleaned other equipment in the aft area as well. We’ve found it a good idea to check out that steering system once in a while, because once after we had delivered the boat from BVI to Grenada, we were in Mayreau (here in the Grenadines) a few days later when Tim happened to hear a bumping noise in the transom, and when he checked he discovered our entire steering system (tiller, rudder) had lost some of their bolts and were just another bolt or two away from making our steering system completely useless. It was a pretty scary realization, because I have a friend down here who lost a boat on the reefs due to steering problems. Tim and our hired skipper for the delivery, Kevin Parsons, spent the next few hours scouring the small island of Mayreau for any available bolts that might work (not to many Ace Hardware or Walmarts on Mayreau don’t you know), and they finally found some from some local gentleman who had a machine shop and worked on engines. It was a case of “making it work” but it did the job and allowed us to continue onto Carriacou, albeit a few hours behind schedule so we arrived and dropped anchor in the dark. But then, that’s another story….

So getting back to our projects today, our next taks was to make measurements for privacy panels for either side of cockpit along the lifelines (heavy mesh fabric). This is probably our biggest single splurge this trip, since it will create at least some minor privacy for me when I’m alone on the boat later. Earlier this week Tim spoke w a very nice lady at Bequia Canvas & Sails about making them for us, and we were delighted to discover they can make them this week in just a day or two for about 287 EC (that’s only $107 US, and I’m guessing they’d be double or triple that in US). Tim has also researched getting a replacement battery for our spotlight (one of those West Marine things) which is invaluable for night approaches into a harbor, or even at anchor if someone goes overboard at night or any other night time difficulties arrive. While it appears no one on island has this type of replacement battery pack, after some additional examination he discovered the spotlight actually works without the battery using the 12 volt adaptor (cigarette lighter) on our boat, and since it has a pretty cord, we’re in business even without the battery.

After a quick break for a cold lunch on board of salad w/cucumbers, tomatoes and artichoke hearts and deviled egg sandwiches (and chocolate chip cookies for dessert!), we continued with our project list. Next on our checklist was to sort through all our owner’s manuals for the various equipment and systems on board, and to inventory what manuals we have and study them for the systems we have that need some attention. I wrote technical manuals for a number of year for various software companies, so I’m one of those people that actually reads them. It was kind of funny to discover that after all these years (13) of owning this boat, it was just now that I discovered what that small access port under the 3rd step on companionway steps is used for – it’s a safety feature that allows you to insert the fire extinguisher hose into the port in the event of an engine compartment fire – so you can fight the fire without the risk of opening the entire engine doorway under the steps. Someone was thinking there.

We took a small break later when one of the local vendors, Billy, paddled by on his wind surfer board carrying his handmade jewelry for sale (he also sells fruits and vegetables on some days). I’m a huge fan of things I can buy from the person who actually makes them, so as you can see by the photo, I bought a bracelet and ankle bracelet to match (ankle bracelets are one of my favorites). The jewelry is made with strong fishing line underneath, so Billy kindly adjusted the ankle bracelet to fit while we watched). We asked his price for both items, and we agreed to his request of $25 EC (about $9 US).

That’s all I have time to write today, so have a good night!

SJ log Feb 12 - living aboard in Bequia

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

We remain in the harbor in Bequia, our favorite island in the Grenadines (http://www.bequiasweet.com/). The “Sailor’s Guide to the Windward Islands” describes Bequia as an island of sailors and boats, linked to the outside world mainly by the sea. I’d agree heartily with that description. Although there is now a tiny airport that can manage tiny prop planes like local SVG, Mustique and Grenadine Airlines, by far the primary method for getting to or from Bequia is by private or commercial boat.

There are two ferry companies that come and go several times a day from Bequia to St. Vincent, as well as a host of small day charters like Friendship Rose and others. Although still largely unknown by much of the world, the island has been “discovered” by some small cruise lines and it’s not unusual to see a medium-sized cruise ship in the back of the harbor on some days, although any that arrive visit shore only by tenders because there is no large commercial dock in Bequia, only small dinghy docks and a few medium sized marina docks.

From our boat which is anchored in Admiralty Bay, we have a great view of the busy harbor and the many shops and restaurants that line the beaches, along with the small and understated colorful homes that cling to the lower portion of the hillsides. Fortunate the majority of the surrounding land is still naturally lush and green and largely undeveloped, although I fear it will not remain this serene and somewhat isolated island for long.

One of the ferries heading out of Bequia harbor toward St. Vincent

But today the island still retains the charm and beauty that is so rapidly disappearing in the Caribbean. We are fortunate to get a chance to see it the way it is today. This is on my mind as I look out over the harbor as Tim and I eat a light breakfast up top in our cockpit. To complement the bagels and cream cheese we have “paw paw” jam that we bought from Miss Ada and the other market ladies (paw paw is the local name for papaya). The orange-colored jam has a sweet yet strong taste which we both enjoy and which cannot be found in stores outside of this part of the world as far as I know. So it's a special treat when we're here.

Bequia harbor (view of town from our anchorage)

After breakfast this morning we stayed on board – continuing our work on maintenance projects. The major one is diagnosing the leaks and water pressure problems for our fresh water system as new symptoms continue to appear. We’re also considering taking a short sail to another island, so we’re reviewing our charts to discuss where to go. Potentials are Mustique (which we’ve never visited before), the Tobago Cays which is a full day’s sail away, or perhaps just a short jaunt around the point to Friendship Bay on the other side of Bequia. Mustique is a private island and requires the purchase of a park pass/mooring so I doubt we’ll do that this trip. The good news is the pass allows visitors to stay up to 3 nights, so we’ll probably save that for when we have more time to spend there.

As the day wore on and we realized how settled and comfortable we are in Bequia, we eventually just decided to stay put because where we are is pretty good, and of course it’s handy to be near the chandleries when we need parts and supplies.

Bequia street near Knights (main grocery store where we shop)

For a small island (just seven square miles in size), and population of about 5000, Bequia has an amazing range of services, especially of the marine variety. One of the very convenient services for sailors is the availability of having water, diesel and ice delivered right to your boat. Daffodil Services has 2 yellow and green floating barges that glide from boat to boat and you can either hail them on channel 68 on the VHF or simply flag them down as they float by. We were next on their fill list after a catamaran, but we knew that would be a long wait because those big cats hold gallons and gallons of water. We’ve been behind them at a dock before and it’s not unusual to wait 30-45 minutes for them to finish filling their tanks.

Bequia - the main street in "town" (bank, post office/customs in yellow building)

Finally the barge headed our way and we threw a couple of fenders over the port side and tied on their docking lines, then took on just over 50 gallons of fresh water. We also bought 2 bags of ice, somewhat pricey at 15EC per bag (about 6 US), but at least we don’t lose part of it along the way as it melts while we carry it through town and then the long dinghy ride back to our boat in the lower harbor. It took about 15-20 minutes for our boat to fill, so while they waited we offered the crew of two a Haroun beer and over that we discussed our water system since often these guys have great ideas of work-arounds. This time was no exception, and the guy showed me a special tape to use that might help with sealing fittings. Before they dropped their lines and motored off to the next boat, he even gave me a small roll of what he had to take to hardware store so I’d know what to ask for.

Daffodill delivering water and fuel

While we were taking on water I had been working on our lunch below. Typically I don’t cook hot meals for lunch because it heats up the boat in the middle of the day, but today just sort of seemed like a good day for Caribbean curry rice and beans, a local staple. I threw in some vegetables to make it a bit healthier, added fried plantains with butter and brown sugar and fresh baked bread, and lunch was served. Since the wind wasn’t howling so much today we ate up top at the cockpit table and enjoyed our view of the harbor and watching the usual activity.

After lunch I washed dishes while Tim stowed some gear and helped me clean up below, then we prepared to go for a nice snorkel just off the point on the southeast end of Admiralty Bay, a medium dinghy ride from where we’re anchored. As we motored farther south toward the lower beach with our snorkel gear, we saw three clipper-style ships (three and four-masted schooners) all lined up at the edge of the harbor in deeper water, their tall masts lined up like soldiers waiting for battle. It was a pretty site and I regretted leaving my camera aboard (but as you can see I snagged a photo of at least one of them later).

In about 10 minutes we’d reached our snorkel destination, and as there is no dingy dock here we beached the dinghy and then heaved it ashore far enough from waves to prevent the need for a dinghy anchor. After enjoying the beach for a few minutes we donned our gear and made the long swim toward the rocks at the farthest point on the beach, and then we swam in about 20-30 feet of water, following the contour of the rocky shore along the bay toward the cliffs at the point (about 400 yards). We saw lots of fish, sea urchins, two turtles (there is turtle sanctuary here for hawksbill turtles), reef squid, sea fans, smoke stack like coral, those pointy needle-nose fish that always stay near surface, lots of minnows, and several other kinds of fish.

After about a half-hour we were getting into much deeper water that was rougher as we started to round the point where the coast is more exposed to the sea, so we turned around to head back toward the beach. As expected, we were swimming against the pretty strong current in this direction, and we were also headed right into the oncoming waves which pushed us back and broke over our heads often. The swim back required some stronger kicking and persistence for the distance which was great exercise, but after about 20-30 minutes of that I was glad to be nearing the shore again. After a brief rest on the beach to catch our breath, we shoved the dinghy back into the water and prepared to cast off. I hopped in first in the waves and Tim gave us a good shove and then hopped after me, dropped engine prop into the water and cranked the pullcord – it caught first time and off we went before the next wave carried us back ashore. Nice. I was quite impressed with how smoothly and calmly he did that.

Snorkeling on Bequia's south shore

We were hungry after our swim so to compliment our traditional afternoon orange & pineapple juice drink with coconut milk and just a “smidgin” of rum, we added fried conch samosas and peanuts. The samosas are traditional down here so they are very inexpensive, but the splurge was the nuts which I’ve found very expensive, so next time we’ll probably either bring that down with us or just do without.

Later in the day as we returned from town in the dinghy, it gave me a chance to continue my practice as dinghy captain since I’ll need to handle it alone once Tim leaves. Our friend Keith is our “official” dinghy captain when he and his lovely wife Erin have joined us sailing over the years (he even earned the tshirt and everything). Hmmmm…. wonder if I could convince them to come down so Skipper Keith could chauffeur me around while Tim is away. How about it guys??

Seriously though, Tim is an excellent dinghy driver and he’s been giving me pointers which have been very helpful. I appreciate his patience when I make mistakes or don’t catch on to things the first time. Not all married couples are able to do things like this together without getting testy at each other, and I’m very glad that we are both patient enough to recognize our different skill sets are what makes us such a good team.

It was pretty dark by the time we left Gingerbread, so I dinghied slowly through the harbor toward our boat. We had moved our boat closer in to shore earlier in the day, and our first drop didn’t position us the way we wanted with other boats, so I motored us slowly ahead while Tim cranked in the windlass to pick up the anchor chain and we dropped a second time which we liked much better.

When our boat was located in the BVI, most people use mooring balls and so you almost never need to anchor (and in some places there are so many mooring balls there now that you don’t have a choice). That’s convenient and easier, but it can also get expensive. Down here the moorings aren’t near as prevalent, and what is there is not always reliably secure, so knowing how to anchor is pretty important. As we anchor more and more, we seem to get better at picking the spot and positioning ourselves with other boats. One thing I’ve found is that if the swing or the bottom hold or anything else doesn’t feel right when you’re settling back just after we drop the anchor, then it probably won’t get any better over time, so it’s best just to pick up and try again. It’s also great practice.

Cheers all! cy

SJ log for Feb 11 - Visiting local schools

Monday, February 11, 2008

A new day has begun, and after a light breakfast of banana bread and reheated coffee from yesterday, Tim and I dinghied ashore to complete some errands in town. He stopped at the Gingerbread to use their free Internet service, and I stopped by the produce market to see what was available on the way to taking our trash to the dumpsters provided for mariners near the market and ferry docks. Then I made my way up the hill past Knight’s store first to the primary school where Annette works (Annette is mentioned in an earlier log; she is the lady we met in a local restaurant in St. Vincent). Since her kindergarten class was in session when I arrived, I spoke briefly with the head teacher (what we’d call the principal) about the potential for volunteering at this school as well (in addition to the Sunshine School which I had set up before I arrived). Then I went up the hill and over a block to the Sunshine School to see if I could locate Camille Jacobs, the head teacher at Sunshine.

Using Internet at Gingerbread

The Sunshine School is located a few streets off main street up toward the hills and is surrounded by a fence, so it took me a few minutes to locate the entrance and figure out how to use the gate. Once inside, I walked down a concrete ramp where someone directed me through another wooden gate where I could find Camille. As I followed their directions and turned a corner into an open area which is covered but yet open to the outside and included tables and chairs for working in the cool breeze, I spotted a lady I thought might be Camille (I had not met her before) just coming out of a classroom door.

Sunshine School exterior

Camille welcomed me warmly (people are so sincere and friendly here – very “real” if you know what I mean), and she gave me a brief tour of the upper floor of the school which included a computer room, library, several classrooms, kitchen and her office which is also combination storage room, meeting room and everything else. We met for a while and discussed various potential needs, including helping with their annual auction this Sunday (and perhaps some organizing of items on Saturday), some website changes they need to make, and possibly working with the kids on various projects. This week is especially busy for them with getting ready for the auction along with regular duties, so we have an appointment for me to come back next Monday morning at 9am which would provide a chance to see their start-of-day assembly, and we’ll likely play things by ear as they come about.

Sunshine School assembly area (open air)

After leaving the Sunshine School I started back to the primary school and conveniently ran into Tim along the way and we walked there together. The school rooms are actually one big building consisting of about 8-10 classrooms divided only by chalkboards on rollers. The double-sided chalkboards serve double-duty as each class uses one side of the board. It makes for a pretty noisy classroom, because of course the noise from the other side of the blackboard comes through and it seems everyone is competing to be heard, including the teachers who practically have to shout for their students to hear them. They are in this school temporarily, and their new school is being built now up the hill which will have proper divided classrooms. It should be ready by next fall, so it's understandable how much Annette and the other teachers look forward to that.

Annette’s kindergarten class included 5 boys and 12 girls for a total of 17 kids. Tim and I sat in a couple of chairs along the far wall (he was in a wooden chair built for little people so his knees were at an odd angle, but he’s such a good sport he didn’t seem to mind). The students were sitting at small rectangular wooden tables for 2 and seated in small wooden chairs facing Annette and the chalk blackboard, with their backpacks resting on their desks. There was a couple of side tables, one that functioned as Annette’s desk (although there were no drawers that I could see), and another that contained the kids’ water bottles and lunch bags. That was the extent of the classroom facilities. A window looked out onto the courtyard and the entrance, and a fence also surrounded the school and school yard.

Public primary school (Annette's kindergarten class)

The kindergarten students, dressed in uniforms of dark blue dresses for the girls and blue shirts and khaki shorts for the boys -- were working on their alphabet - spelling and basic sentences using plain lined paper (no workbooks or other texts, the teachers seem to create their lessons from scratch). Annette, wearing a burgundy 2-piece suite w/skirt and black dress shoes - wrote on the blackboard “Oscar’s owl sat on the orange” and they discussed the letters and why the first O was a big O and how to sound out the letters to make the words. (Today, they appear to be studying the letter "o"). Then the students copied the sentences onto their lined papers for practice. Next was mathematics where they were studying addition. Tim needed to leave at this point to handle some errands at a local marine chandlery, but I stayed on a bit longer. To engage student participation in the math lesson, Annette drew two big circles on the concrete floor and asked 2 children to stand in one circle and 3 in another, and then she asked them to tell her how many students total were standing in the circles, and they all counted the students together to get the answer. This exercise was followed by some other adding problems with marbles as examples. Finally just before lunch break, they started the science lesson about going up and down a road and how to follow directions. The bell for lunch rang just as she started to explain about directions so that was postponed until after lunch. The school starts at 9am, breaks from 12-1 so the kids can eat lunch by returning home, eating at the school what they brought from home, or walking to other places nearby. Then they continue at 1 until 2:30 for the younger kids, with the older kids 9this school goes up to grade 6) staying until about 3pm.

I thanked Annette for letting us visit and spoke again to the head teacher on my way out. I asked her about the proper attire for being at the school in a more formal capacity, because I didn’t expect to wear the casual shorts and collared top I had worn for the visit. Women in Bequia don’t typically wear shorts in public (only young boys and men from what I’ve seen), so slacks and skirts or dresses are standard wear for women in business, church, or other public places. Since I had brought limited clothing with me (boating people need only bathing suits, tshirts, a pair of shorts or 2 and I had brought along only one sundress), I stopped at a couple of stores in the little village and found a couple of peasant skirts I thought would work – light cotton black one for $22 US and another from the sale rack for $10US (white with salmon-colored flowers on the bottom). I’ll wear these or black slacks on future trips to the school.

After leaving the school I ran into Tim on the street (the main part of “town” is actually a pretty small area, perhaps about 500 yards long and 200 wide). We were both hungry for some local food, so we found a small local restaurant on a side street that offered some type of local dish that looked great with rice, beef and vegetables; but it “was finished” (meaning they were out), so we went next door and found a great cheese pizza and coke for $22.50 EC (about $8US).

After lunch we wandered back through town and then along the Belmont Walkway to Gingerbread, where later in the day we shared an ice cream sundae made with coconut ice cream and butterscotch and chocolate syrup. Tim worked for a while longer on his computer using their Internet, and I took my first solo trip in the dinghy back to the boat to do some things on board. As I walked along the wooden dinghy dock above the turquoise and sparklingly clear water on such a sunny day, I noticed the sailboats which seemed to be swinging happily on their anchors or moorings, like small children enjoying a rope tire swing on a sunny afternoon. One of the ferries to other islands was just about ready to leave the harbor and I heard the loud horn announcing immediate departure as I bent to unlock the dinghy chain. After tossing my shoes and my bags into the beer crate we’re using to keep things out of the water and gas that always accumulates in the bottom of the dinghy, I climbed in and started the engine (after a few tries), and then I made my way back to the bow of the dingy and untied the painter from the dock. Moving back to the stern again, I moved the gear shifter from neutral to reverse and backed out, then shifted the metal lever with my thumb into forward, gave a bit of gas on the throttle, and I was off. The boat was only a few hundred yards away, and since this was my first time approaching the boat this trip, it took me a couple of tries to successfully land at the swim platform. Approaching a stationary dock is one thing, but a bit more timing is required to approach a boat which is a moving target as it swings on its hook and rocks and rolls in the waves and swells. My second attempt allowed me to slide up smoothly to the side of the rear swim platform, and soon I was off the dinghy and safely aboard.

Along the Belmont Walkway

While aboard I washed our breakfast dishes and made sun tea for later (put water and tea bags in a plastic container and sit it up top to brew in the sun). Before I knew it, it was almost 3:00 and time to return to town and pick up Tim. After arriving back at the dock, I spent some time in the Gingerbread with him while he waited for his computer to finish charging, enjoying the breeze that blew from the nearby trees into the 2nd floor balcony just off the open air restaurant. Then we headed back out in the dinghy with me driving, and I dropped him off just long enough to change into his swim trunks while I made some practice runs around the harbor to get the feel of the dinghy at higher speeds and different turns. Then we motored the short distance (about 50 yards) to the new dinghy dock which has recently been added to one of the 3 main beaches that surround Admiralty Bay. We spent the next hour or so taking a break to swim and sit on the beach and enjoy the view of the catamarans, mononhulls, and motor vessels in the harbor from a different vantage point. We watched the water taxis coming and going, and followed the trail of the boat which delivers ice and freshwater slide smoothly from boat to boat where requested, like a big black and yellow bug crawling among the flowers. It seems this harbor is always busy when the sun is up, and it sleeps only at night when the sun is also resting.

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SJ Log for Feb 10 - Beautiful Bequia life and pesky water systems

Sunday, February 10, 2008

We stayed on board this morning as a rainy front that began last evening continued through the night and into the morning. The wind is gusting consistently through our boat and others that are anchored in the Admiralty Bay harbor, like a relentless freight train screeching through a busy intersection. As is typical for squalls in the tropics, it arrives in sheets with some advance notice, because if you pay attention you can see it coming across the nearby hillsides from the east. When it arrives it sends us scurrying to close the larger hatches down below, and then it blows out again as quickly as it arrived. The water outside our portholes is windswept into frothy whitecaps flowing underneath and around us, each wave seemingly hurrying to get ahead of the rest, reminiscent of ballgame patrons who stream out of the stadium in a race toward their cars in the parking lot.

As we huddle below from the tempest outside, it's a good morning to eat on board. We are cooking and eating on board as much as possible anyway to save the cost of eating out. I don't mind as much eating on board the boat, because for some reason food on board always seems to taste so much better than it does at home. This morning was no exception when Tim was the chef and made plantain pancakes (plantains are much like bananas). Since we were ashore at lunchtime, we grabbed a couple of inexpensive tuna salad sandwiches and fries to share at the Gingerbread, the restaurant where we recharge our laptops and use the Internet for free. We tend to eat dinner early (around 6 or so just after we run the engine for an hour to recharge the fridge). So after going up top to open the port lazerette and switch on the propane at the tank (one of our safety precautions is to turn it off there when not in use), we boiled some pasta and made a homemade marinara sauce with artichoke hearts, mushrooms and a bit of leftover lobster from the previous day. Yum.

We did do something other than eat all day though. :>) Boat projects continued during the day – this time regarding our freshwater system. We’ve detected a likely leak in our fresh water tanks, noticed primarily by the water tank sputtering which indicates it’s almost empty, but happening way too early in the trip since we are very conservative in our use of water. When you live on a boat amidst saltwater everywhere, you learn quickly to use the freshwater sparingly, especially since getting more means time in line at docks or waiting for floating water barges - both of which cost money of course; and sometimes you do without if the harbor where you reside does not offer fresh water service, unless you have "jerry cans" (I'm not sure of the spelling, but that's what they call the large plastic containers that can contain water or fuel tat can be filled and hand-carried aboard).

We don't want to buy water and simply have it leak out slowly, and the suspected leak is mysteriously occurring at the same time as our recent observation of a wet patch of carpet in our front cabin – one of our freshwater tanks is located there under our berth, and we noticed the carpet was wet after our heeling from our trip over from SV. That observation, combined with excessive water in our bilge that is not salty, leads us to believe a leak in the freshwater system is likely.

Later we’ll pull up the cabin berth and planks below to see if we can spot where it’s leaking, but first we are focusing on clearing the bilge filters which have clogged with debris from grunge that the water picks up as it flows through the bilge at the bottom of the boat. The lack of saltwater smell in the bilge is further indication that we have a freshwater leak, so we’ve turned off the water pressure at the master switch in the navigation area to hopefully prevent any additional leakage except when we must use water.
Tim working on hot water tank under salon table (working on boat equipment often means contorting yourself into various pretzel shapes.

Short entry for today because time is scarce, but stay tuned for another posting tomorrow.
Cheers! cy

SJ Log for Feb 9 - Passage from St. Vincent to Bequia

Saturday, February 9

This is to be our last morning in Blue Lagoon, as our initial repairs are winding up this morning and we'll head to our next stop in Bequia (next island south). We dinghied into the TMM marina from our peaceful mooring around 8am, taking our shower items with us since we both missed showers yesterday and we wanted to save our fresh water on the boat.

Our original plan was to bring the boat back to the docks for Marcus to go up the mast to repair the windspeed and windex indicators, but the incessant winds still have not died down enough, so I spoke with Bob and Marcus and we decided to forgo that for now. Just too much risk in that breeze (20-30 knots w/gusts higher, and they typically only do mast work at max of 10-15 knot winds). So after some minor work cleaning up our engine room and such, we headed back to SJ in the dinghy to prepare to get under way to Bequia. We were ready to go about 11:15am.

Sailing across the Bequia channel

Preparation for our crossing to Bequia means rounding up tools of the trade, so to speak: sailing gloves to protect the hands from rope burns when raising or tending sails, studying the navigation charts of the area on the nav table w/GPS and log (for plotting points), and bringing up key items to have handy in our cockpit table - water, binoculars, and the cruising guide which describes the sailing area including any navigational hazards in the passage and harbors (sort of like a AAA atlas on land).

Typially our underway preparation is a teamed effort with Tim working up top, and me down below (or the reverse). Below decks that means closing all hatches (boat windows); turning off all unnecessary switches in the nav area and our water pressure so the pump doesn't run while underway; and closing the sea cocks in head, galley and front cabin (the sea cocks are the "plumbing" areas where there are holes in the boat to the outside, so we close them to prevent taking on water in the event a seacock lets loose for some reason).

I compare preparing to get underway in a sailboat to what you'd do if you were to suddenly decide to pick up your house and move it (well, okay....perhaps just one or two small rooms in your house to be more exact). And then imagine that as you move the house it will be leaned to one side or the other by as much as 20-30 degrees (if it's one of those "rail in the water" sailing days). This means of course that everything below must be secured where it can't slip or slide and go crashing to the floor. Everything on board has a designated spot while underway, and before we head out it should be in that spot.

On top, the preparations for getting underway include raising and securing the swim ladder, loading and securing the kayak and paddle on board, raising the engine in the dinghy and tying it up short (close to the boat), securing the boat hook and other "loose" items that might fall or blow off, and finally, taking a good look around to see if other boats are leaving or entering the harbor before we let go so as not to get in their way. We also check the surrounding weather to gauge the proper amount of sail to put up once we're out in the channel. As you can see, there's a fair amount of both mental and physical effort involved.

With both Tim and I working in tandum the above takes about 15 minutes if we work smartly, and soon we were ready to drop the mooring line and let wind blow us back, then gradually motor out of the harbor and turn south toward Bequia. The Bequia Channel which separates St. Vincent and Bequia is well known for being "lumpy" (big waves and/or swells) and windy on most days. As we expected, the waves picked up within 20 minutes from passing the reef marking the southern edges of Blue Lagoon harbor – sets of waves of 8-10 feet on our port beam which is pretty typical. You get used to the wave height after a few days of sailing, but when it's your first day out it can be somewhat intimidating to look off your beam and see a wall of water coming at you that is as high as the top of our bimini (the awning that is above our heads to protect us from the sun). Since we've sailed in waves this large before, we know SJ can handle them, but it's still awe inspiring and sometimes a bit frightening until you get used to it again.

The sail across is typicallyabout 2 hours with decent wind, and as we near Bequia the waves become more to our stern. This is when the dinghy we pull begins to do what Tim calls the “dinghy dance” in the water behind us – as she surfs toward the boat on a large wave and then when the painter (line connecting her to our boat) comes tight, she’s jerked back around toward the waves again; repeating the process on the next wave which surfs her in again. This is why sometimes on longer and more rough crossings you bring the dinghy aboard on the foredeck – since that's safer than letting it ram into the boat or get swamped or perhaps flipped upside down (the heavy outboard engine on the back makes it difficult to right it again).

Charting our course to Bequia
I am typically our navigator for our course, both because my strong math background (I was a math major in college) lends itself well to the type of skills needed for navigating, and also because I typically have the strongest stomach for being below in the closed-up cabin and studying small points on the chart with the boat lurching and weaving this way and that.

Today they have automatic chart plotters, but we haven't invested in that yet so we still do it the old fashioned way using a pencil and counting off the points on the chart. However we have added the technology of a GPS which automatically provides the latitude and longitude locations for us, and then I simply plot them on the charts and connect them with a line to track our position and overall course. It's important to know where you are at all times, especially in unfamiliar waters when there may be unknown hazards (these are marked on the charts), and also in case of approaching storms or other conditions that impair visibility - having some idea of where you are before the storm is on top of you saves much teeth clenching and stressful "guessing" later on.

I hadn't plotted points in over four years, so I was a bit rusty, and how rusty very quickly became evident. My first calculations seemed to indicate we were halfway up the lee (western) shore of St. Vincent (we were headed south which was the other way), and then when I tried again it indicated we were on dry land in Bequia (I don't think so). Upon looking closer I realized my error was due to misunderstanding the minutes on the latitude markings, so on my third attempt I got the hang of it again and from then on it was easy again. I like navigating because it's fun to see our progress on the chart via our DR (dead reckoning) line.

We'd pulled out our inflatable life jackets which allow us to hook ourselves into the cockpit to prevent someone going overboard in rough seas. Tim and I always hook in when we're sailing short handed (just two of us on board) and offshore (away from the sight of land, out at sea), but when we're making these smaller crossings we may or my not snap in depending on the weather and sea conditions. It was a sunny day and we enjoyed a pleasant crossing overall, albeit rolly with the lumpy seas. We saw flying fish all along the way, and although I typically only get a quick glance at them, they appear to be green or grey in color with a long narrow body, and they have these long and skinny "wings" that flip out as they dart out of the water and fly over a few waves, sometimes for a fair distance, before disappearing into another wave. I'm not sure what the proper scientific name for these fish is (but if any of my friends and marine biologists at USM or GMRI have an answer, I'd love to hear it). We are constantly on the lookout for fishing traps since the floats marking the traps can be anywhere and wreak havoc with a spinning propeller (not to good for the fishing trap either). We only saw one along the way which we easily sailed past, and since there were only a few other boats out there we had lots of sea room.

Approaching Bequia
There was only ourselves and one other sailboat in view as we neared Bequia and started to round the point near Devil’s Table and our approach into Port Elizabeth and Admiralty Bay. I’d been watching an orange and white rectangular "dot" on the horizon for about a half-hour that had first appeared aft of our position near SV and I was pretty sure was a ferry, and now it was a few hundred yards to our stern and approaching quickly. It was a car ferry which came in behind us and cut the point much closer than we could with our draft of 4 feet. I was at the wheel and had already moved over to allow him room. Even though motor vessels including ferries technically have the give-way obligation toward sailboats, it’s marine courtesy to give ferries a wide berth and accommodate somewhat because they have a schedule to keep. As the ferry continued past us toward the commerial dock at the center of the busy harbor, we turned into the wind and took in our sails, and then we motored toward the beaches on the east side of the harbor. As we motored slowly among the many sailboats and a few large power boats already anchored there, we pulled the dinghy in short and prepared to anchor.

Taking the "harbor cruise" before anchoring
As we cruised the harbor checking out the available slots for anchoring and checking the bottom for holding ground, I thanked the local boat guy who asked if we needed a mooring ball but said no, we were just doing a harbor cruise right now and would wave to him if we needed anything. He graciously left us alone.

We motored our way up slowly among the mostly charter boats anchored along the northern beach, past the headland which separates the two beaches. Tim suggested I turn out into harbor a bit more as we passed headland to ensure enough room left for reef that extends out below waterline, so I complied and we continued along past a few monohulls and catamarans of varying sizes (35-50 feets mostly) swinging on their anchors or moorings at the next beach.

We found a nice “hole” between 2 catamarans, depth was great at 5 feet, so we edged ahead with Tim on the bow preparing to drop the achor and me at wheel keeping us into the wind and slowing us down to idle speed. As we came abeam of the two boats on either side we dropped about 75 feet of chain and waited for her to settle back – this put us behind the two boats on either end and didn’t foul their anchors, and also put us well infront of the boat behind us and in no danger of fouling his anchor or being in his way when he pulled up later. We had checked teh bottom before dropping and it appeared the bottom provided a good sandy spot for our anchor to dig in below. Our first attempt took and the sand seemed to provide good hold, but as careful and responsible sailors, we took some time to just sit and watch how she swung for a while to see if there was any slipping, and also to check our positioning with other boats during our swing. When everything checked out okay, only then did we back down (reversed) using our engine to test the set of our anchor. While doing this we both watched fixed points on land to see if angle between them changed (if the angle changes, it indicates you’re slipping), and on the bow Tim also kept his foot resting on the anchor chain so he could feel any "jumps" in the chain which can also indicate if the anchor bounces below). She was holding well, so we turned off the engine and and began opening hatches, let out the dinghy farther behind the boat, and otherwise began to prepare to stay the night. We had found a very nice spot, between two beaches and just off the headland which should offer some great snorkeling if time allows later. We're not too far from "town", but far enough away to reduce some of the noise (means longer dinghy rides versus quieter and perhaps a less crowded anchorage - we tend to prefer a quieter anchor spot).

Arrival celebratory drink and lobster dinner
To celebrate our arrival Tim prepared fruit juice and rum drinks (rum is really inexpensive down here), and I brought up cheese and crackers s a snack to supplement the light lunch we’d eaten just before departing. Pretty soon one of the local fisherman motored by with his son selling Caribbean spiny lobsters they had just caught, so we negotiated with him for a huge (5 pound) lobster to share. The fisherman's name was Flex as was his boat name - in keeping with the local custom. Flex split the live lobster down the middle (I felt really bad about that for the lobster) - to be sure it would fit in our pan and then explained how to season and cook it (boil or grill, but boil first to reduce grilling time, or boil for ~ 30 minutes till done). He also indicated the meat from the legs would be good for lobster salad later.

He asked if we had a beer to spare and fortunately we did so we handed him a Haroun and they wished us a good dinner and visit in “his paradise” and departed with an island handshake (softly punching fists together). Before cooking the lobster Tim and I sat on the deck and broke the remaining pieces into manageable portions that fit better in the pan, and after it was cooked Tim did the messy work of removing all the meat from the shell and disposing of the residue overboard for the fish. To complement the lobster we added some local brown rice; a salad with tomatoes, cucumbers and celery (here celery sort of looks like our parsley except with small stalks) and garlic butter for dipping. It was a great dinner and our splurge to celebrate our arrival in Bequia. We have enough lobster left over that tomorrow I’ll make a lobster salad or lobster roll for lunch. For about $28US, we have enough lobster for 2 meals. Even with my miserly ways, that sounds like a pretty good deal.

After washing up the dinner dishes we both relaxed and read a bit as we watched the flurry of activity between the boats anchored around us and town ahead of us about 200-300 yards away. As I turned the pages of my John MacDonald novel, I can hear the buzz of yet another dinghy ferrying passengers between their boats and the beach nearby or dinghy dock in town. As the warm and sunny afternoon turned into late afternoon, we watched the parade of sailboats entering the harbor – like arriving armies coming home from battle they entered the harbor looking for a restful spot to anchor for the night.

Later in the day a large crewed yacht arrived quietly (we estimated 120 feet, and likely housing a full crew of 6-8, 12 state rooms, board room, 3 decks, and complete radar/satellite (multiple systems) – this baby was designed to go across the ocean, and likely employed a fulltime crew including chef and all the amenities. Around dusk I heard a ferry horn indicating their immediate departure, and shortly thereafter we felt a slight wash as the wake passed under our boat coming from our port beam.

As darkness fell and the drone of moving dinghies lessened except for those going ashore for dinner, Tim and I worked on some additional boat projects in the cooler air. The wire cable that we use to lock up our dinghy at night and at the dinghy docks had begun to fray and wires protruded making it a bit dangerous to hands, so Tim wrapped it with every sailor's favorite remedy -- duct tape (Red Green would be proud). Then Tim worked on repairing the reading lights in the saloon which had mysteriously stopped working after our first night.

I made some homemade banana bread using the only oven pan I could find, and although the pan was rather big leaving the banana bread shape somewhat flatter than usual, it still tasted just as good. The wind had been alternating between pleasant breezes and howling gusts all afternoon, like sets of waves that sometimes slam into the sand followed by gentler ones that simply lap the shore. Around 7:30pm after darkness was complete, the sliver of a moon we’d seen briefly became covered as a rain squall and strong winds blew in for about 20 minutes, but as is typical of this part of the world it was over almost as soon as it began. Soon the stars were out again, although the wind continued to blow in gusts most of the evening. We reheated some leftover coffee from this morning and enjoyed warm banana bread as our dessert. It was a nice finish to a really nice dinner onboard.

We enjoyed a relaxing evening reading below after dark, enjoying the usual harbor sounds of dinghies coming and going, the clank of halyards moving against masts in the wind, and the soothing sound of water gently lapping against the hull as we swung on our anchor. The rain had stopped so we had opened one small hatch to catch the breeze, with the remainder of the hatches still closed from the last rain. The temps are so mellow tonight and the winds so strong that it keeps things comfortably cool below. By 10pm after a day of sun and sea, we're both starting to get sleepy, so once again it's an early night in preparation for another full day tomorrow. I hope you night is peaceful and relaxing too. Goodnight. cy

SJ log for Feb. 8 - TMM docks at Blue Lagoon

Friday, February 8
St. Vincent, TMM docks at Blue Lagoon

Our day started with a continental breakfast up top in the cockpit – just coffee, bagels and cream cheese, but with an awesome view! Over breakfast we planned the day’s projects, including some research we wanted to do with local residents and TMM staff about the feasibility of living and working part-time in this part of the world (and the remainder in our other “home base” in Maine). This long-term goal is simply wishful thinking at this point, but we know people who manage to eek out a living doing it, and we’re both motivated enough to make it work in the way that people do -- with a little luck and lots of perseverance. Doing that “due diligence” research is a key part of why I’m remaining a more extended time down here – because it just takes time to get to know enough people and begin to learn the ins and outs.

Around 8:30am the TMM crew came out and moved the boat on the dock for the additional refrigeration repairs. While Tim worked with them on that, I topped water again in our freshwater tanks (where our water comes from for showers, cooking, etc.), and I also washed a few clothes by hand in our bucket, then hung them on the life lines to dry. After lunch I walked about 2k to nearby Calliaqua to purchase some beers for our fridge (and for the guys after work as a thank you for all their hard work and their patience with teaching us at the same time).

It was a warm and sunny day and the wind occasionally howled; and after carrying the beers back in my LL. Bean bag I was hot and tired, so I put on a light sundresss and rested in the sade and breeze below deck. Mid to late afternoon can be the most uncomfortable time of day on a boat in a warm climate. That's because in addition to the heat of the day, the sun is starting to get low in the sky so it’s hard to find shade unless you’re below; and that can be very warm as the boat heats up during the day. Often I try to keep shades drawn by mid-day to keep the accumulated heat in the boat to a minimum, but of course keeping the hatches (and shades) closed presents heating issues.

I also charged both of our laptops and transferred money from savings to checking to cover bills to be mailed today at home, and I checked emails and sent one to Camille to notify her of our delay in arriving in Bequia until over the weekend earliest. All the online work was done from the forward cabin in our boat while at the TMM dock – I love this Internet access from the boat.

It’s around 3pm and we’re now waiting to see if Marcus can go up the mast today to repair our wind speed and electronics for wind direction – both seem to be a problem with on top of the mast. Marcus is the electrician guy and he’s willing to go up the mast, but so far no one wants to take on the responsibility to hoist him up. It’s pretty windy today and typically they do not go up the mast when the winds are over 10-15 knots, and today they are regularly in excess of 20-25. In the end we decided it was too windy, so we’ll check again another day.

That’s all I have time for to write today, so stay tuned for another day’s log. Cheers! cy

SJ log for Feb 7 - Provisioning and such in St. Vincent

Thursday, February 7
St. Vincent, Blue Lagoon Harbor, TMM docks

We slept in this morning until almost 8am, which is really late for our usual schedule down here since when living on the water you tend to go to bed early and be up with the sun (perhaps sailors live sort of like farmers). Recent boat duties left us both pretty tired and we’re not used to working in this heat yet the way these guys are (thank goodness it’s not August). So all things considered, even the sun shining in the hatches over our heads didn’t wake us right away.

It’s amazing how much exercise you get on a sailboat without even really trying – particularly a monohull. I’m not sure catamarans provide the same workout because they tend to sit more flat when ashore and underway there is no heel, and also you don’t run up and down companionway steps (like a 5-foot ladder) whenever you go from the deck to below areas. And I’ll bet we run up and down that ladder 50 or 60 times a day at least. Hmmmm, I guess you could say we have our own built-in “stairmaster” eh?

Even when at the dock, just living aboard seems to provide more exercise than living in a house, because getting on and off the boat requires climbing over lifelines and hoisting yourself up and down three feet or so (sort of like mounting and demounting a horse all day long). And even getting in and out of bed requires sort of flipping yourself around some way or other, since we typically climb into the berth and then flip around so our heads are in the more open spaces and our feet are in the tighter spots. For me the primary advantage to all this calorie-burning activity is that living aboard is the one place when I can eat without the usual worry about gaining weight (something I've always struggled with), because we just simply work off what we eat in regular daily activities. Of course we still eat as healthy as possible, and perhaps the sailing and active nature of the trip is part of that lifestyle – if you don’t eat healthy, it’s hard to run around on the boat and do all the things you need to do.

This morning I mostly stayed aboard while Tim went ashore to round up some needed items. We are off the dock now and hanging on a mooring which I much prefer because it’s cooler and more private since you don’t have people walking by your bedroom window at head level. While Tim was ashore I ran the engine to recharge the fridge which I had just cleaned to remove the musty smell after months without use. I have a healthy respect for the crew down here that clean the boats, because simply changing linens in the berths and cleaning the galley requires some acrobatics of its own. For example, the only way I could reach the bottom of our fridge (which sits down inside the counter port side in the galley), was to sort of hang over the top of it with the lid hooked open (everything on a sailboat has hooks), then use a trashcan to prop my foot on to push myself head first down into the bottom compartment – winding up with my feet sticking up in the air like someone doing a handstand. It wasn’t very comfortable but it got the job done.

Then after washing the dishes and leaving them to air dry in the drainer and otherwise tidying up below, I completed the daily ritual of applying a good dose of sunscreen and then settled in to write this log and check my email. I love that we can access to wireless Internet right from our boat in this harbor -- it’s Tim’s vision come true.

Tim is very creative and several years ago had already realized that active travelers would need Internet access in harbors and at campsites and such one of these days, and he even took a couple of years off from his fiber-optic career to investigate a startup business in that area. His idea captured the imagination and enthusiasm of two friends and previous co-workers, and the three of them together had varying skills so together they made a great team. The three of them made a great effort to launch a new company called Splash which would provide high speed Internet services in “underserved” areas (marinas, RV campgrounds, and other remote areas where standard cable or other options were not available). They did an awesome job of researching and developing the business plan, financials, and even delved into FCC regulations and such which of course would have been part of the requirements. It was really cool to watch them build something from the ground up, and I think Tim learned a MBA’s worth of knowledge during that two year period so it was definitely time well spent.

But as happens with many high-tech startups (especially during this time period which was during the most recent high-tech “crash” around 2003), in the end they were ahead of their time and the financing needed for the company’s infrastructure wasn’t forthcoming from angel investors, and they had made a decision to avoid venture capitalists because they wanted to retain control of operations. We weren’t really prepared to risk our financial future in order to wait it out, so in the end Tim went back to his earlier career, but with much more knowledge than before. I’m very proud of him for taking the time and effort to live that dream. Very few people actually do that. And I’m sure the wealth of knowledge and personal experience he gained from that experience will serve him well the next time he strikes out on his own again, because I’m pretty sure there will be a next time. Perhaps in a different area, but just as creative and inventive since that is a key part of who he is, and I admire that.

So thanks to creative and free-thinking people just like Tim, I’m able to sit in this harbor and access the Internet to pay our bills at home, transfer money in our bank accounts, send and receive messages, and even write and post this blog. How cool is that? Today I’m writing from the forward cabin from our berth, with the breeze blowing in from the forward hatch and from each side porthole. It’s already very sunny and warm (probably mid-high 70’s) and we’ve got a good breeze blowing. I can hear the squeaking of the mooring line as it rubs against the toe rail which runs along the deck above when she swings on mooring from side to side. The breeze and the gentle rocking make a pretty comfortable workspace if you like working “inside yet outside” at the same time. Perhaps it’s not luxurious accommodations, but it sure works for me. Later this morning I hope to catch one of the local mini-buses into town (Kingstown) and complete our provisioning for food and beverages and other supplies. We also need to round up another fire extinguisher for the boat since one of ours is no longer active. Just like with a house, it seems the “to do” list is also ever-growing.

Adventures in provisioning (Kingstown - SVG capital)
Speaking of rounding up provisions, that’s one of the few things we really can’t use our “car” (dinghy) to do, since the town where you find the bigger grocery stores would be a long and treacherous ride up the western shore of the island. Of course there are taxis running to and from town (Kingstown) about 20 minutes away, but that can get rather expensive over time. Plus I tend to prefer to “do as the locals do” anyway whenever I can, and on an earlier trip I discovered these “minibuses” (like a small van) which accomplish the same transportation objective, but at a mere fraction of the cost. I get some surprised looks when I ask people at the base about this, because I gather most visitors don’t use this way of getting around; but to me it’s all part of the adventure.

The reluctance most likely stems from the fact that these small vans, designed to hold about 6-7 people maximum, are frequently crammed full with 15-18 or more people along the way (no exaggeration), especially if some are children and can sit on someone’s lap. But that’s the way it works here, so there you go – it’s all a choice of which method of transport you prefer. Tim and I climbed to the top of the really steep hill that is the TMM/Sunsail driveway (about 200 yards long), and sure enough there was a little bench there by the road which serves as the bus stop. There is no set schedule for arrival and departure of the minibuses, you just catch the next one that comes by with room. We waited about 10 minutes and saw one going in the direction we needed, so we waved to flag them down and climbed in and off we sped along the concrete road toward town.

Typically there are 2 people who operate the minibus: one to drive and another to help everyone find a seat and collect money as they exit. The 20-minute drive into Kingstown took about 30 minutes today because it was near lunchtime and there were many people just like us waiting alongside the road for a pickup, so we stopped to let people on and off several times before arriving in Kingstown. As usual Tim and I were the only non-natives on the bus, but they didn’t seem to mind so we felt welcome anyway.

As expected, eventually the van was filled to overflowing, and at one point Tim and I were seated on a bench seat designed for 2 along with two other people as well, and behind us there were probably 8 or 9 other people similarly squeezed into seats built for half that many. It may be crowded, but being the thrifty individual that I am (okay, I’m just plain cheap), I’d choose a few minutes of crowded transportation and pay 3EC (Eastern Caribbean dollar, about $1.25 US) for both of us each way, rather than the comfort of a private taxi for more like $40 EC (about $15 US) each way. Then we can use the extra money we saved to put toward groceries or a dinner out or something fun later; it’s all in our choices eh? Of course we also want to support the local economy too, so we did take a taxi back, especially since our large bags of provisions would take up too much room in the minibuses needed for passengers.

That first trip to the grocery store is always rather expensive and time-consuming and really takes at least two people to do it well. To compare, imagine that you’ve just moved into your first apartment or home, and now you’re ready to stock the fridge and pantry – not only do you need to buy the normal groceries for daily menus, but also those starter staples like flour, sugar, cleaning supplies, aluminum foil or ziploc bags and so forth. And on top of that, once you’ve bought it you need to lug the bags or boxes to the taxi (fortunately they tend to hang out near the markets for just this purpose), and then when you arrive at your "neighborhood" (marina) you need to cart it down to the dock, or in our case, dinghy it out to the boat in the harbor and then transfer the bags from the dinghy to the boat. Not a trivial job, and I have done it alone before when Tim’s been tied up with something else, but it’s always good to have help.

The minibus dropped us off near the center of town, and from there we walked to complete our errands. The streets were very busy at this time of day, with people waiting at the bus stops and people walking everywhere, cars coming and going, ferries loading and unloading, and the usual activity in a harbor town. On our way we passed one of the few American chain restaurants I’ve seen down here – a KFC – the only one I’m aware of in the Grenadines. We skipped that of course, but as we wandered toward the grocery store we passed a window and our noses were drawn in by this wonderful smell of island cooking which wafted by, so we turned around to find the source. It turned out to be the “Eat Rite” restaurant, obviously a local place since everyone there seemed to be native to the islands – exactly the kind of place we seek out for “real” island cooking. The menu included only 4 or 5 dishes as is common for these places, typically similar dishes with fish, chicken, beef or pork choices. One item on the menu said palau which was unfamiliar to me, so I asked a lady in line who explained to me that it was like a chicken stew with vegetables and rice (sort of a one pot dish). Unfortunately it was “finished” (meaning they had run out), so both Tim and I ordered the salt fish, served with rice, cabbage, potatoes and plantains and pasta.

The tables were all full so we asked a lady eating alone if she minded if we share her table, and she graciously said yes. As it turned out her name was Annette and she was from Bequia, having traveled across the channel today on the ferry for some errands in town. She teaches kindergarten at the primary school in Bequia. We enjoyed a lovely chat as we ate our lunches and compared notes about who we knew in common, and we discovered that Annette just finished her bachelor’s degree here on St. Vincent, where she had made the trip across the channel from Bequia once/week to attend classes. She kindly invited us to visit her school next week,, and there is a photo below with more to come from that visit later.

After lunch we wandered the streets in the afternoon heat on our way to Greaves Supermarket, enjoying looking at the wares of the many vendors along the narrow streets: CD’s, clothes, toiletries, fruits and vegetables, you name it and you could buy it here. We also visited the local fresh market where the “market ladies” as they are called bring fresh fruits and vegetables to a common open air market (much like our farmer’s markets in the US). We found carrots, papayas, onions, garlic, bananas and plantains, and peppers for less than 20 EC (about $7 US).

After collecting the fresh produce at the market and the larger bulk provisions at Greaves Supermarket, we found a very nice cab driver who drove us back to TMM; and then we dinghied our purchases back to the boat to transfer them onboard in the rolling swells in the harbor. Unfortunately we had forgotten to buy ice at the marina and they were now closed, and we discovered that our SeaFrost was not working after all (must be more leaks). So not wanting to risk the dairy and other items we’d just bought, we climbed back in the dinghy just before dark and motored over to Calliaqua. Ice can be difficult to come by on these islands because few places have the capacity to store it and keep it frozen, but fortunately we found one small bar that did sell ice by the bag. We considered ourselves very fortunate, and he also had a few sodas which are often hard to locate down here so we were really in luck. Somehow these things just work out.

While in Calliaqua we also ran into Marlin again who kindly asked if we had found everything okay (he’s so very nice), and then we ran into Micheal who also works at TMM and other marinas cleaning the boat bottoms with his snorkel gear, and his appearance at just that time was serendipitous because they had closed the gates to the dock where we had left our dinghy, and he was able to show us how to get to a different gate which was still open. Once back at the fisherman’s dock and our dinghy, negotiating the transfer of our gear and ourselves into the dignhy was a bit of a challenge tonight because the swells coming in jostled the dinghy up and down about two feet, and the dock is just a concrete pier with tires hanging on the side which act as the only steps, so either way it’s sort of like trying to jump onto a moving target and if you miss you’re in the water in the dark. I’m not the best at the dinghy/dock transition anyway, although getting out is typically harder than getting in becuase you can just drop down to get in – so I waited out a few waves and then hopped in successfully. Tim is always much better at this than I am, and he simply stepped down onto the dinghy pontoon with his typical finesse, and as he started the engine I released the lines and we were off toward the adjacent harbor and our waiting boat.

Dark had fallen by now and we had not remembered to bring a flashlight, so we both were watching carefully for mooring balls or lines and other obstacles that dot the harbor. After climbing aboard we dumped the ice in the fridge and I placed the more critical items right on top of it to keep them as cool as possible during the night, and then we were glad to turn in from a very tiring day. Obviously we’d need to try again with the fridge repair tomorrow, but as Scarlet O'hara would say, tomorrow is another day.