Stingray!

Now sitting in the cockpit waiting for Follyfin to be hauled out of the water. Yes we are going home for a holiday! After 3 months away, we feel in need of a change… if only to arrange to see doctor, dentist, optician, hairdresser, hearing consultant etc. “Are you going deaf?” I hear you ask. Well, not exactly but each of us increasingly finds him or herself having to repeat the words that have just been said to the other! Is this because we have stopped listening to the other, or are we going deaf? Well, after almost 42 years of marriage, it could be either. Hearing tests for both should provide the answer.

The island where we are now based is shared between the French - occupying the northern half named St Martin - and the Dutch - occupying the southern half named Sint Maarten. So far we have only sampled the Dutch side as this is where the boatyard is located. In reality, the majority of people we have heard speak are American, reflected in the island-wide currency being US dollars. This island might also be known as ‘Holidaymaker Central’. It is packed with high-rise hotels and holiday apartments and all the pubs and clubs that go with them. As well as beautiful beaches it also has the one of the largest land-locked lagoons - all 12 sq.miles of it -  in the Caribbean, and in which there are numerous marinas, making it popular with superyachts and their owners (who are a rare breed, hardly ever spotted). Access is through a lifting bridge four times a day. But the lagoon is at its best early in the morning...

The moon at sunrise

Sunrise

We chose to stay anchored outside in Simpson Bay until the time came to be lifted out. This meant that we could still swim but had to travel quite a long way by dinghy  into the lagoon to do any business, shopping etc. On one trip in we had the surprise of our lives when just a few metres from our dinghy, whilst still out in the bay, a large sting ray jumped completely clear of the water - tail and all -  and splashed back beside us! Regret no photographic evidence but the image is indelibly imprinted on my memory. So lucky to have seen such a rare sight.

Here in Bobby’s boatyard, we found ourselves berthed next to the ‘Treasure Seeker’ pirate ship.

Sharing a few beers with the current owner, an American coincidentally named Ray, we found out that this amazing steel-hulled vessel was originally built in Wisconsin in 1955 as a car ferry. Ray started his Pirate Ship enterprise 8 years ago with another similar boat which sank in the Caribbean Sea (it's a long story). So successful was the business that he bought the another pirate ship, the current one, 4 years ago and ‘sailed’ it down inland waterways to Florida where he set up again. The ‘masts’ of this one are actually recycled New York lamp posts! Not seeing eye to eye with the authorities in Florida, Ray, his son and 3 other hearties sailed the Treasure Seeker down through the Bahamas to the US Virgin Islands but on the way it foundered on a reef doing $50,000 worth of damage. Moving on down here last year to Sint Maarten to ply their pirate trade, the boat was blown ashore during a hurricane. It is now undergoing extensive repairs and guess what … is up for sale! Anyone want a pirate ship?

Since I began this post, Follyfin has been hauled out

So Follyfin is now on dry land. Phew!

We fly out on Wednesday via Puerto Rico. A brief stopover in London with family Hodgkinson and then back home to Yorkshire. Brrr! Not looking forward to the cold weather - every day it's 28-30°C here, sun and bright blue sky - but it will be lovely to be home again… only briefly though as our odyssey continues from the beginning of April to the Virgin Islands, Turks and Caicos, Bahamas and thence the US east coast to New York and points north. At least that's the plan!

Of turtles and brown boobies

[Now take that smirk off your faces lads!]

One night in the Gustavia anchorage was enough. Formalities completed, online business done and bread purchased, Follyfin headed 4nm NW from Gustavia to the small island, Île Fourchue. No living person inhabits this island and it's part of the Marine Park, consequently it's very peaceful. Ashore there is mainly dry scrub on volcanic rock.

Over 10 years ago, the island was denuded of vegetation by a herd of goats, now departed. The Turk’s Head cactus is gradually re-establishing itself but very little else.

Otherwise, only the occasional cries of brown boobies are heard. In case you are wondering, the name of these birds wonderful flying creatures derives from the Spanish ‘bobo’, or dunce, as at one time it was easy for hungry sailors to approach these birds and grab them for food.

Our early morning sortie on shore provided a good view back towards the main island of St. Barts. 

Although the anchorage was quite rolly due to the Atlantic swell working its way in, a few boats overnighted with us each night during the 4 days we were there.

Wonderful snorkelling around the edge of the bay. Skipper, Bosun and Engineer enjoyed catching up with various repair and maintenance jobs on board in this time, fuelled by a giant avocado. Ones this size are a common sight in the markets at this time of year

Moved across to anchor in the Anse de Colombier on the N coast of the main island. Here at last I managed to get a photo of a turtle - greenback I think. Turtles come to feed on the sea grass growing on the bottom of these two bays. We had seen many swimming around our boat over the previous few days but none close enough to photograph or at the right time when the camera was handy. Indeed I had swum with one or two of them, trying to entice them nearer to Follyfin.

This is the only decent photo I managed to get. Turtles come up for four of five quick gulps of air and then dive to the bottom, staying under water for 10 or more minutes.

A hike up the steep hill above the Colombier beach afforded great views over the bay where Follyfin was parked. No Turk’s Heads here, only organ pipe cactus.

A further slog uphill provided a wonderful view over towards the larger island of St Martin, with Île Fourchue in the foreground. And St Martin is where we will be bound tomorrow, on Thursday 9th February, preparing for our homecoming - a short break for us hard-working sailors.

It’s not all plain sailing!

A series of recent events inspired the title to this post. First, on leaving the ‘11 mile beach’ anchorage on Barbuda, we wanted to take a look at the apparently pink sands on Cocoa Beach before heading south again. It should have been an easy 10nm sail of maybe 1.5-2 hours. It actually took 3 hours and required us to motor into wind for the final half of the passage. But it was worth it. Contrast this photo of Cocoa Beach, Barbuda

with this of Jolly Harbour, Antigua.

And where we are now, at Gustavia on St Barthélemy (aka St. Barts) is even more crowded with boats.

But I digress… as we prepared to depart from Cocoa Beach the following morning, there was a loud ‘clunk’ on the keel. We had hit an isolated rock! Needless to say we beat a hasty retreat and headed south for Jolly Harbour.  The main reason for going there was to clear out with the all-powerful triumvirate - customs, immigration and port authority. At least on Antigua the system is semi-computerised, eliminating the need to fill two or three different forms by hand in quintuplicate. Also took the opportunity to get some laundry done. Yes life’s mundane tasks continue, whether in the Caribbean or North Yorkshire. A couple of nights at anchor in Jolly Harbour was enough. On 31 January, we set sail west for the small island of Nevis, once a British colony like it's near neighbour St Kitts but now coupled as one independent state.

The passage started well, a nice downwind passage in a force 4-5 ENE wind. A good size fish was caught mid-morning but thinking it was a kingfish (possibly infected with ciguatera) and in his haste not to let it die needlessly, the skipper threw it back before it was positively identified. In fact it was a Tuny fish (the French call these Ti Thon). Fortunately two more Tuny fish were caught a couple of hours later.

As the afternoon wore on, the sky became overcast, the wind gradually increased and we saw a couple of squalls coming towards us from behind. Squalls are never good news as not only does one get very wet but the wind changes direction and plays havoc with the sail set if one is unprepared. And of course having had such an easy downwind passage thus far, Follyfin was sailing under her full main sail and jib - omuch too much canvas for gusts of 35 knots! So then the problem became reducing the sail area (technically known as reefing the sails) in such a high wind. This was eventually achieved with much flapping and blowing and turning a complete circle.

Soon the lee of Nevis was obtained and everything calmed down. The capital is Charlestown and mooring buoys have been laid for visiting yachts, thus allowing the sea grass to grow back. You might think that this would make life easier for us but no… the first one we selected had no pick-up line and the second one had such a long pick-up line that it wound itself round our keel and we ended up facing backwards! By the time this problem had been sorted it was pitch dark and skipper and crew were both exhausted.

Everything looked much better the following morning as we approached Charlestown to make our clearance with the Triumvirate again.

A short bus ride took us up to the Golden Rock Estate, which goes back to 1801 when it was owned by Edward Huggins. It is now mainly owned by a two New York artists. The estate is half-way up the mountain and borders the rain forest. The original historic buildings have been skilfully blended with modern additions but the gardens are definitely the main attraction. Pictures speak a thousand words…

It is now a rather fancy hotel and restaurant with prices to match but luckily they don't mind yachts-people arriving for lunch in their shorts. This is a place definitely worth revisiting if ever the opportunity arises.

This post is being composed whilst at anchor near Gustavia on St.Barts. The passage here today from Nevis was not without incident either… before we even started, we had trouble slipping from the buoy (see above). In fact, it took a whole hour to free one of our mooring lines from the wretched mooring buoy, a job that is normally accomplished in less than a minute. The passage itself was pretty good but the seas were across us and quite big (2-3m) so though uncomfortable, we made good time - top speed 9.4kn, average 7.2kn. Once into the lee of the island we saw with horror a veritable forest of masts. Finding a vacant spot to anchor amongst that lot was difficult but what with onshore swell in one place and weed on the sea bed in another, it took three attempts before the anchor dug in enough to hold the boat.

So you see, it's not all plain sailing!