Sailing to Trinidad!

Relaxing in Grenada certainly dulls ones ambitions to travel.  There are so many fun things to do, and great people to hang out with.

So despite the thick moss growing on the bottom of Valkyrie, It was time to scrape the bottom, pull up the hook and head south to Trini. 

Trinidad is a large island nation about 85 miles south of Grenada.  Sailing to Trinidad, the wind is generally out of the east south-east.  So on a good day, it should be a single tack trip.  There are a few things to watch out for on this trip.  First, there are 2 oil rigs lying north of the gulf of Pria.  These are really well lit, and not much of a danger.  Next there is a research vessel towing a 2 mile long cable conducting some sort of subsea survey.  This vessel was in port when I arrived, so I never saw it operating.  Many of the cruisers in Grenada seemed particularly concerned about this vessel.  Lastly, the entrance to the gulf of Pria, and Chagaraumus  lies only a few miles from the lawless waters of Venezuela.  A few degrees off course will land you in pirate waters.   An older couple nearly lost their lives in a violent attack within sight of Trinidad a few weeks after I left.

So having said all that, I left Prickly bay about 10am and headed south.  The wind was generally light, and I motor sailed the entire way.  About 20 miles south of Grenada, I hooked a large Dorado and fought him for about 15 minutes before it spit the hook, right alongside Valkyrie.....shit.  That night there were a few squalls and light showers, and I saw a moonbow for the first time.  Its just like a rainbow, only at night.  Google it, they really do exist(I didn't know either).

The following morning the wind died off to nothing as I approached Trinidad.  As soon as the sun came up, I could tell something was different,  we were no longer in the Caribbean.... It wasn't so much the coastline of south America stretching off over the western horizon as the water.  No longer the sapphire blue color I am accustomed to in the islands,  even 15 miles offshore the water was stained brown like weak coffee.

Motoring along in the rolly calm water was slow going, and naturally I missed the incoming tide at Bocas del Mono and had to buck the current all the way into Chag.  Bocas del Mono is a beautiful channel with high cliffs on either side,  there is also a strong current.... up to 4kts that runs in and out.  There is also no wind, and it is very, I mean very hot on a sunny day when your speed over ground is approximately 1 knot.  I followed the local fishing boats as they hugged very close along the cliff sides to avoid the torrent of water in the center of the channel. and made it to the customs dock at noon.  Tired and a bit dehydrated. 

Clearing in in Trinidad is a bit of a hassle.  I think I filled out around 11 pages of paperwork.  The harbor is bustling with traffic of all sizes.  There was no room at any of the local marinas, so I anchored in the shallowest part of the harbor I could find room.  The anchor chain free fell for what seemed like forever till it touched bottom.....75 feet down......  I let out all 250' of chain and hoped for the best.  Despite the crowded conditions in the harbor, and the constantly changing winds and currents Valkyrie stayed put and never so much as brushed any of the neighbors.  The sunsets were especially beautiful with the Mountains of Venezuela in the background.

I never found much to do in Trinidad, aside from oil changes and a few boat projects.  The poor anchoring situation compounded by occasional and unpredictable squalls left me nervous of leaving Valkyrie alone for too long.  So I stayed 6 days and sailed back to Grenada.

The trip back to Grenada was swift with the wind and current aft.  Valkyrie made the crossing so quickly, I was anchored in Prickly Bay by 11pm, a little over 15 hours under sail alone.  I seldom enter harbors at night, but Prickly is a large open bay, and I've entered it several times, and I really didn't want to wait 7 hours for the sun to come up.  The anchor grabbed the bottom as usual, and I poured a glass of wine.

Bequia to Grenada

I left Bequia around 9 am, this time with 2 passengers, Joey and Gabriella.  This was a first for me as up till now I had sailed alone.  We headed south toward the Tobago Cays in light but steady wind.  The Tobago Cays are a small archipelago located near Mayreau.  Surrounded by dangerous reefs, the picturesque islands are a protected marine park.  We dropped anchor around 3:30 and snorkeled and explored one of the small islands.  The waters around the Cays are chock full of sea turtles, and there are land tortoise's ashore.   We bought some fish from a local fisherman and had a nice dinner.

Buying fish in the Tobago Cays

The next morning we were off to Union island to clear out of SVG, and on to Carriacou to clear in to Grenada.  Clearing out at union is kind of a pain because you have to walk to the airport, and the officials are not very welcoming.  Union Island is kind of a strange place.  Its the kind of place were you cant hide being an outsider.  We looked around a bit and headed for Hillsborough to clear in to Grenada,  Historically, vessels entering Carriacou must anchor in Hillsborough for formalities.  We did this and it was a pain in the ass.  Arriving in Tyrell Bay a couple hours later, I learned the new customs and immigration offices had just opened there. 

Union Island

Tyrell Bay is a large protected cove which is home to hundreds of cruising boats.  There are several bars and restaurants along the shoreline, as well as a mangrove lagoon.  We rented a mooring close to shore and had a fantastic dinner at the Slipway restaurant, which is actually an old marine slipway.  The Chef is an Italian lady, and she really takes pride in her work.  The next day we took an island tour in a beat up old Suzuki which was fun, but not all that interesting as there really isn't much to see on Carriacou. One unusual site is a large cemetery on the east side of the island which has been used for hundreds of years.  Due to phosphate mining, the cemetery is slowly being washed into the ocean.  Hundreds of graves just being washed away.  The place has a very strange vibe, kind of like the last scene in Planet of the Apes....YOU BASTARDS!!!

 

After the tour, we got some beer and took a dinghy ride through the mangroves.  boats hide out in the mangroves for hurricanes, and there are quite a few wrecks from boats that never made it out.

 



The next day, we were off to Grenada.  This was around an 8 hour ride down the west coast in very light winds, with a few rain squalls.  we arrived in Port Luis marina around 4pm.  Port Luis is a newer secure marina, and well kept but lacking in any real character.  Its great to be in Grenada thou, and finally having caught the bulk of the southbound cruising fleet after lagging behind the last month or so.

Night sail to Bequia

It was hard to leave St. Lucia, because it is a comfortable spot, and I was having a good time.  After 10 days, I figured I had to move on, and the weather was looking good.  So on Monday, August 4th, I cleared customs, put on 100 liters of diesel at Rodney Bay Marina and set off south at 11am.  The run to Bequia is just under 80 miles, but the wind was light, and it took Valkyrie 21 hours.  All in all a pretty comfortable overnight trip in mostly calm seas.  I saw lots of dolphins along the way, and there was a fair bit of maritime traffic to keep things interesting.

Passing the Pitons, St. Lucia

Tuesday morning, I approached Admiralty Bay at around 8 am.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to anchor off Princess Margaret Beach, or rent a mooring in town.  Puttering around the harbor, I was approached by one of the locals who directed me to a mooring close into shore right off the boardwalk, and bars,  perfect I thought. Renting a mooring turned out to be a wise decision, as another boat that came in after me, and anchored in the same spot I was eyeing off the beach, was boarded by thieves that first night.  Fortunately the owners scared the thief away, but as tired as I was that first night.... who knows.  Also, just as I settled in on the Mooring, a large Manta Ray circled the boat several times.   Manta's are rare in the islands, so to see one up close was a treat.

 

 

Bequia is an interesting place.  It has the feel of a city, but its really only a small town.  Clearing in is fairly painless and cost me $35ec.   Even in August there are lots of yachts coming and going from the harbor, and high speed ferries, and RORO freighters come and go all day long.  Bequians have a long seafaring tradition which is evident today with numerous traditional vessels around the waterfront.  Whaling, is still permitted around Bequia provided it is carried out by locals, on traditional whaleboats.  They are allowed 4 each year for the entire island. From what I hear they seldom meet this quota, and many years they catch none.

 



 One afternoon while having a beer at the Frangipani Bar, I met a couple, Joey and Gabrielle.  After a few Tequilas, we go along well and headed off to explore the island.  We3 got along so well, maybe the will come with me to see the rest of the Grenadines...............



Ile de Saintes to St. Lucia

Ile de Saint was a great stop.  The harbor can be a little rolly, but its beautiful and the water is clear.  The shore is lined with French 'plat du jour' type restaurants and other café type places often labeled as bars in the European tradition. They aren't actually bars, but serve food and alcohol at such a slow pace that you actually get thirsty drinking there. I don't know what it is, but some cultures just don't understand the concept of a 'bar'.


The harbor at Ile de Saintes

On Wednesday July 23rd, I slipped the mooring and headed south toward St. Lucia.  For once the weather was forecast to be mild, and there were no squalls on the horizon. With steady east winds, Valkyrie took off toward Dominica at around 5 knots.  After about 5 hours I reached the north end of Dominica, and the wind gradually died as the mountains blocked the breeze from the east.  Dominica is said to be one of the most beautiful islands in the Caribbean with tall jagged mountains, rivers and dramatic waterfalls. Sometimes I find natural beauty a bit dull, so I continued on with the feeling that I'd stop someday when I have more time.  Toward evening, I approached Martinique, and the wind again lightened to almost nothing in the wind shadow of the Island, so I motored southward on the calm moonlit water. 

 

The next morning Valkyrie passed the south end of Martinique and turned easterly toward St. Lucia.  The wind by this time had filled in from the ESE at about15-20 knots, and it was actually a tough beat into Rodney Bay.  Arriving at the mouth of Rodney Bay, the wind increased to around 25 knots from the east, and I was getting a bit nervous about docking in the marina, especially since no one would answer me on the VHF, and there were 3 other boats also circling trying to get an answer on the radio.  After waiting a few minutes, I put out some lines and fenders and headed in the narrow cut to the marina.  About 20 yards from the docks, I tried the radio once more, and the dock master immediately answered and directed me to a very convenient slip were I tied Valkyrie up without incident.  Rodney Bay is a very nice marina complex, and while the wind blows fairly steadily, the water is flat calm and landlocked on all sides.  Most of the vessels here this time of year are either waiting out the hurricane season, or local commercial boats. 

This is my 3rd time visiting St. Lucia, so I know my way around fairly well.  Its a large island, and most everything is available here.  I don't know why, but the locals seem much more friendly here than St. Thomas.  I understand why some cruisers never leave here.  Rodney Bay Marina is very convenient and you can dinghy to nearby shopping malls and beaches.  At the end of the Dock, there is a bar called the Boardwalk, and I spent lots of time there.  Below is a picture of the lovely ladies that work at the Boardwalk.

There always seemed to be three or four of them working, even if there was only a couple of customers.

St. Kitts to Ile de Saintes........

After a quiet 5 night stay in St. Kitts, I was getting restless so it was time to move on. The wind wasn't really right for the trip, but I figured it would be ok, and I headed out around 7:30 am.   The first few miles along the coast of St. Kitts and Nevis were fairly calm with steady 20 knot Winds.  Valkyrie loves these conditions, and sprinted down the coast at 6+ knots.  Passing Nevis, the seas built up, and the rest of the trip was squall after squall, in confused, steap seas.

Passing Montserrat, I got a good look at the devestation left over from the volcano, and even smelled the stench of sulfur in the air for several miles.  It must have been traumatic for these people to loose their island home in such a disastrous way. The new town on the north end of the island has a relatively exposed harbor, so I continued on toward Guadeloupe. 


The ruined town of Plymouth




Another view of Plymouth

The ride down to Guadeloupe was rough and squally.  There were so many squalls that night that they actually pushed me off course, and I traveled down the coast of Guadeloupe about 10 miles offshore.  This was good because I avoided some of the wind shadow created by the island.  Arriving at the south end of the island, there was a problem.  Being so far offshore, meant I would have a difficult beat to windward to reach the Saintes.  Clearing the south of the island, the wind roared in from the east, and the sees built up to an uncomfortable 6' chop.  Between the wind and seas, and the 1 knot current that runs west through the channel, I could see I was not going to make Ile de Sainte before dark....ugh.  Weighing my options, I decided to turn back toward Guadeloupe, and spend the night.  I spent the night in Marina de Riviere Sans.  This is not a cruisers marina, and I would not recommend it very highly unless you have no other choice.  It is however, surrounded by a nice town, and most everything is available.  Guadeloupe is undeniably French.  In fact, if not for the landscape you would think you are in the south of France.  The population of nearly half a million people is a mix of french continentals, and afro-carib descendants.

Marina de Riviere Sans 

The next morning I set out for the Saintes about 8:30.  The strategy this time would be to hug the island to its southern point, Vieux Fort, and then set out across the channel.  The conditions in the channel between Vieux Fort and the Saintes were the same as the day before, but with a better angle, and an early start, Valkyrie covered the 10 miles in about 5 hours.  This is a difficult piece of water.  I think if I were approaching from the north again, I would head toward the center of Guadeloupe, pass through the river Salee which bisects the island, and sail SSW to the Saintes.

Terre De Haut, the main settlement in the Saintes, is probably one of the most picturesque harbors I have ever visited.  The clear waters are alive with dolphins and sea turtles and the harbor is surrounded by colorful buildings and beaches. Customs check in is completed via computer at the local mail center for 1 euro.  You must utilize the well maintained moorings in the harbor for 9 euros a night.  The mail center, Les Saintes Multiservice, also collects the mooring fees, has internet service and laundry, which I desperately needed. The town is absolutely bustling with people during the day, and the narrow streets are packed with, bicycles, scooters, four-wheelers, trucks and golf carts.  Huge ferries arrive from Guadeloupe 5 or 6 times a day depositing hundreds of tourists in the little town.  In many ways it reminds me of Cruz Bay on Saint John.  Except bigger, more scenic, and French.  Very French.

 

Customs check in is completed via computer at the local mail center for 1 euro.  You must utilize the well maintained moorings in the harbor for 9 euros a night.  The mail center, Les Saintes Multiservice, also collects the mooring fees, has internet service and laundry, which I desperately needed. The town is absolutely bustling with people during the day, and the narrow streets are packed with, bicycles, scooters, four-wheelers, trucks and golf carts.  Huge ferries arrive from Guadeloupe 5 or 6 times a day depositing hundreds of tourists in the little town.  In many ways it reminds me of Cruz Bay on Saint John.  Except bigger, more scenic, and French.  Very French.

Nanny Cay to St. Kitts

After a relaxing 5 night stay in Nanny Cay, It was time to get underway again, so on the morning of the 12th, I untied and set off across the Anegada Passage. I had some trepidation about this trip, because at 120 miles, it would be my longest solo trip to date, and the estimated travel time was about 30 hours.  Crossing the Drake channel, and passing Salt Island, I set a course directly for Saba Island, about 95 miles across open water.  The wind was generally moderate at around 10-15kts, with occasional squalls.  The squalls really suck, because they bring rain, and sometimes high winds, so when they approach, you must shorten sail before they roll over you.  Usually they just dump rain for about 15 minutes, followed by about a half hour of dead hot sticky air before the trade winds settle back in.  During the day, you can see them coming.  Not so much at night.

On the morning of the 13th, I was approaching Saba.  Saba is a unique island in that it is small, about 3 square miles, has no natural harbors, and is very high, around 3500ft.  It's basically just a steep mountain rising out of the sea.  The settlement on Saba, is accessed via a single road cut into the cliffs and starts at around 1500 feet above sea level.  I would very much like to stop at Saba some day, but with the easterly swell rolling, it would have to wait, so I continued on to Statia as planned.

St Eustatius, typically known as Statia, is an unusual island.  Historically it was the trading hub of the Caribbean.  Today it houses one of the largest oil transshipment terminals in the region.  Approaching the island, my AIS receiver, which tells me when ships are approaching, went nuts as dozens of tankers and supply vessels came into view around the north end of the island.  The AIS alarm went off so often, I had to shut it off.  Weaving my way through the tankers and rain squalls(for some reason it rains more than usual on Statia) I arrived in Oranje Baai, which is the only harbor on Statia. There was only one other cruising boat in the harbor.  I picked up a mooring as close to shore as possible, and after sailing 33 hours, I drank a bottle of champagne, and slept for 10 hours.  Oranje Baai, which is adjacent to the capitol Oranjestaad, is a unique harbor.  Surrounded to the east by high cliffs topped by a picturesque 18 century Dutch fortification, the harbor is basically an open roadstead, exposed to the south and west.  Upon arrival, the harbor was glassy with crystal clear water.  The only sounds were from the huge brightly colored parrots which nest in the cliffs, and the occasional family of goats which through some amazing feet of mountaineering, also lived on the cliffs.

After clearing customs the following morning, I walked up the steep path to the town for some exploring and provisioning.  The old fort is exceptionally well maintained, and is a footnote in history, in that it was the first place to return a canon salute to an American warship in 1776, thereby, although probably not intentionally, recognizing the sovereignty of the United States.  This made the British mad, and they later invaded, and the golden era of Statia, came to an end.

After buying some groceries, and having a fantastic lunch at the Old Gin House restaurant, I returned to the boat to find the swell had found its way into the harbor.  The swell increased over night, and got so bad, it was almost impossible to sleep. The next morning, there was a steady 2-3 foot swell rolling in from the south west, and I was eager to leave. First I had to load the inflatable on deck which would not be easy in the swell, especially since the outboard needed to be removed first.  This whole process took about an hour, and left me almost breathless.

The passage to St. Kitts, is 21 miles.  With a stiff headwind, I would sail 42 miles to arrive at Port Zante Marina around 5pm.  This made me nervous because I didn't have a reservation, and no one would answer me on the radio as I approached.  Not seeing any good anchorages in the area, I decided to nose into the marina anyway, and found a suitable place to tie up.  Grabbing my papers, I proceeded toward some official looking buildings to try an get some information.  The first person I saw was a disheveled looking character with a monkey on his back(yes a real monkey) who asked me if I wanted a picture with the monkey.  Honestly I kind of did, but I was in a hurry so I passed.  I went to the harbormasters office, who seemed unconcerned about my arrival, and proceeded to the customs/immigration offices, for  the somewhat bureaucratic entry procedures, which cost me $24.  Welcome to the Federation of St. Kitts and Nevis mon.

Heading back to the boat, I realized the sailboat in front of me was the same boat I'd shared the anchorage with in Statia, and the crew were back on board.  They were going to dinner at 7:30 and asked if I wanted to go, which I did.  We had a great dinner, and then it was back to the boat for a much needed rest.

Underway....at last....

The plan was to leave Red Hook on July 1st.  Of course the weather was crap, so I didn't get underway till the second.  The trip up to Coral Bay was dead to windward in 20-25kt winds and 6-8ft seas which made for an uncomfortable beat.  Tacking back and forth we managed to miss the heavy rain squalls passing the islands, to arrive in Coral Bay around 1pm.  The anchorage in Coral bay suffers from the same cancer as most warm water harbors in the free world, that of derelict vessels.  I'm not talking about older boats that need a little TLC, I'm talking about floating bird shit dumps with no rigging, no engine and marine growth half way up the topsides.  This not only detracts from the image, but also makes it more difficult to anchor in an already crowded harbor.  After circling around for about half an hour, I located a good spot and dropped my 45 pound Bruce and payed out about a 100 feet of chain in roughly 15 feet of water.  Backing down, I felt the anchor set and the boat settled in to the easterly breeze.  "Great" I thought.  About an hour later the wind switched around to the south, and as my half inch chain slowly shifted across the harbor floor, I began to drift uncomfortably close to a couple of the aforementioned vessels.  Rather than move, I pulled another anchor out and motored as far south as I could and tossed it out.  After about a half hour it became clear that this was not working, "damn"!   Pulling the second anchor up was no problem as it had already freed itself.  As the anchor reached the surface, I could see it was caked with thick black mud.   What to do?  I remembered down below there was an old fortress anchor that was stored in pieces under the settee, so I pulled it out, bolted it together and repeated the same exercise as with the second anchor, except this time it held, and I mean held fast!  By the time I got the dinghy inflated and launched, and the outboard installed, it was about 4pm, so I figured I'd go to Skinny Legs for happy hour, which I did, and then went back to the boat around 7 for a much needed rest.

Coral Bay is a cool little town.  There isn't much there except a couple of bars and shops.  The anchorage is crowded and it can be windy.  There aren't really any services for cruisers and I wouldn't really recommend it for a stop over unless you have a reason to go there.  I spent three days in Coral Bay relaxing and reconnecting with some friends from St. Thomas.

Saturday morning, it was time to leave for Tortola.  1st was removing the outboard from the dinghy, and pulling the inflatable up on deck and deflating and rolling it up.  Then after checking the fluids and firing up the engine, it was time to pull the anchors.  Easy right? Nope.  There was a problem.  the wind had shifted again, and now a 50 foot sloop was sitting right on top of my anchor.   As I pulled up the line, Valkyrie slowly nudged closer and closer to this boat, and the damn anchor just wouldn't give.  finally I sat about half a boat length from this other vessel, and was within easy talking range of the lady on the other boat, who seemed unconcerned about the whole affair while sitting in her cockpit leisurely reading a book. A retired teacher from the Antilles School in St. Thomas, as if I cared. I sat there for about 15 minutes hoping something would happen.    Nothing happened.  Frustrated, I pulled more rode in, inching closer to the other boat, until the line was pointing almost straight down and guitar string tight.  Every time a little ripple moved across the harbor, I used the motion to pull in the rode about a half inch at a time.  this went on for about ten minutes until........something happened.  the anchor grudgingly released its hold and I began to pull it to the surface.  As it came up, it was covered with about six inches of coral bay mud.  No wonder it held so well.  The first anchor came up without incident after about 5 minutes of pumping on the manual windlass. Off To Nanny Cay!