17-00.255N
061-45.679W
Anchored
English Harbor
Antigua
January 27
Gustavia, capital of St. Barthelemey, has two distinct harbors, inner and
outer. We wanted the inner, where we would have been moored only 100
feet from a dinghy dock. It was not to be. It was beyond our capability.
With a slight wind, and boats moored barely ten feet from each other,
we could not push Mother Earth into these narrow lines. Instead, we
anchored out, with about 200 others.
After clearing in, we had lunch at Le Select, sitting next to a lively group
that frequently was approached by others. When all but one left the
table, we asked him if he was the owner of Le Select. "No," he said,
"I am a musician, and the others here are members of our group. We play
near by, starting at 8:30 or 9, and the folks who stop by are people who
saw us last night." His name is Phil Gaita, the bass guitar player.
The group is identified by the name of the lead writer, player, singer,
K.J. Denhert. They perform "urban folk and jazz." A recent CD
is called "Girl Like Me." Phil is from Westchester, NY, and recently
married. He drew us a map to the club. At the club, John
had two margaritas, Chichi one strawberry daiquiri, and together we had a
wonderful night of stimulating, reasonable-volume music. At the break,
we met other members of the band, including K.J., but we most remember Ray
Levier, a superb drummer, who should not be a drummer at all. At a young
age, Ray was severely burned. He does not have full use of his hands
and fingers. From only 20 feet, we could not figure out how he holds
the drum sticks, except that a rubber band is an important factor.
Two other highlights of Gustavia are the new gallery with black and white,
candid (non posed) photos of famous people, each priced about $1800, worth
it if you have the space and the inclination. The other was watching
planes land. The approach to St. Barts' airport is a glide slope over
a 300 foot hill. At the top of this hill, planes are hardly 50 feet
above the land, less above the heads of the dozens of curious visitors who
point and shout every time a plane begins its approach.
Sailing, and travel in general, produces one-day friendships that we treasure.
For example, the day before we left St. Barthelemy, Chichi waited in
the reception area of a cybercafe while John did business on the internet.
Chichi heard her favorite language, and said hello to Elena and Elenita,
mother and daughter, from Mexico City. Elenita is a student of hotel
management, taking an internship at a hotel. Her mother was visiting
for two weeks. Chichi invited them to spend the afternoon with us on
Pachamama, a delightful encounter, and all too short. Perhaps future
emails will facilitate still another encounter with these delightful people.
------
Helen Petersen is a 84. She has been embroidering since age 14,
always on the island of Saba. She and some 1800 other residents receive
tourists who arrive either by boat or by plane. After an uneventful
passage from St. Barthelemey, we took one of the 7 moorings to the west. These
moorings are small yellow balls, a bit hard to see and entirely out of place
in front of 1000 foot cliffs that provide no way to set foot on land. In
fact, until the 1970s, tourism there was impossible, but the construction
of a small harbor, and creation of a small airport having a runway no longer
than three football fields, make tourism possible. Our guess is that
50 or 60 tourists visited on Thursday. They come to walk the island,
hike the mountain trails, dive the scuba sites, meet the Helen Petersens,
and enjoy the excellent food and isolation.
We spent the first night by ourselves, at mooring, getting up early the
next day for a half hour dinghy ride to the harbor, from which a taxi took
us to Windward, the eastern-most of two towns on Saba. There, we met
Helen, and later walked to the other town, Bottom. Incongruously,
Bottom is home of a medical school, a fine institution that somehow seems
out of place on this big rock.
Helen is charming. We walked passed her store shortly after noon
and found her outside, with doors locked. "Do you want to visit,"
she asks. How could we say no? She showed her work, we bought an
item, and then she offered to guide us to "the best restaurant," Scouts,
about two blocks by way of a stone and mud walkway. There she told her friend,
"I have brought you two more customers." She then went farther down the hill,
each step causing arthritic pain, but she was satisfied that she had helped
both us and her friend who runs the restaurant.
David Jones, owner-operator-guru of the Caribbean Weather Service, said
that twelve foot swells would dominate our area starting Saturday. Both
guide books and brochures of Saba warn sailors against anchoring and mooring
at Saba during winter swells. Since Chichi and I are the embodiments
of conservative, low risk sailing, we high tailed out of Saba on Friday morning,
making the 100 sea mile trip to Antigua overnight, arriving in English Harbor
at 7:30 a.m. Saturday. As we find too common, our motor did the work
(a sail boat's motor is called "the iron genny," a reference to our genoa,
or large fore sail), because the wind between Saba and Antigua was on the
nose.
English Harbor is home of Nelson's Dockyard, named in honor of the great
man. We observed the laid-back style of the native Antiguans,
the cars driving on the wrong side, the local English dialect that is almost
impossible to understand, and the massive charm of the people. Everyone
says hello to everyone, even more than in Savannah and Charleston. Bus
drivers wave to friends. Automobile drivers honk, or stop, to say hello
to anyone and everyone. This is an island of smiles, providing, perhaps,
the warmest initial reception we have experienced anywhere
Sunday morning, Chichi and John went separate ways. Chichi took
a bus to the capital city, St. John's, to attend services at the Catholic
Cathedral. She first attended the last half of a two-hour mass that
combined the traditional Catholic ritual with local fast and lively
music. The experience was similar to a black church in the American
south, with everyone singing, waiving hands, articulating loud "Amens,"
and having a great time. During the section of the mass in which participants
greet one another and welcome newcomers, the entire church seemed to line
up to shake hands with Chichi, almost 300 people. After the Mass, several
people asked how they could help her. The second mass was equally friendly,
but more intimate, with perhaps 50 people, and this mass was conducted in
Spanish. This was a fine morning for Chichi.
Meanwhile, John stayed behind to complete some writing, and to have a
massage by Yalena Edwards who runs a private business called Body Essentials.
Her office is located near the center of Nelson's Dockyard. Having
a massage is like having a hair cut, or a beauty treatment, or an evening
at Cheers. Half the fun is the conversation. So, John learned
about the life of Yalena, and the history of her family.
Yalena Edwards' great grandfather was an early English plantation
owner on Antigua. Her other ancestors all are Antiguan. She
was born here, has a daughter 18 and a son about ten, plus a 7 week old
dog named Angel. She has lived and worked in New York/ New Jersey,
has studied nursing and massage in Canada, and returned here six years ago
to start her business. At one point, she sent her son, Adam, for a
social visit to his father in Canada, only to find out that the father sued
for custody, an automatic right if Yalena could not make a case. Many
weeks and $40,000 later, Yalena won the case before a Canadian judge who
denied routine visitation rights to the father. The loans for legal
fees and plane fares still are a factor in Yalena's life, but she is paying
her way by providing massage therapy, making jewelry, and, in the off season,
by promoting tourism in Antigua. In March, for example, she will attend
an international travel fair in Berlin, where she will promote travel to
this marvelous island.
Today, Yalena took John and Chichi on a morning tour that included a pineapple
farm, her local village at Carlyle Bay, and the triple first class Curtain
Bluff hotel where Yalena sees clients, some making reservations to see her
months in advance.
On the recommendation of both Yalena and a guide book, we spent last night,
Sunday, at Shirley Heights, listening first to a steel band, then reggae.
Our favorite was the steel band. Four persons played traditional
steel drums, one played huge steel drums made from oil barrels, and five
percussionists made this a complete ensemble. In the last half hour,
they played familiar works from symphonies and operas, a virtuoso display
of fun and talent in a medium that is unique and dynamic.
-----
9:30 a.m., Tuesday, January 28
John leaves in the dinghy to get laundry. Another dinghy approaches.
"Are you from Indianapolis," six people ask. "Yes, we are from
North Willow." "We know you," they respond. This was a group
of three couples led by Jim Nolan, who lives near 116th and Ditch, about
two miles from our home in Indianapolis. They are on a ten-day charter out
of Guadaloupe, having a wonderful time. As we got off the dinghy dock
at Nelson's Dockyard, there was Chris Doyle, author of "The Cruising Guide
to The Leeward Islands," our most important guide. The eight of us
talked. A nice encounter. We wish it could have lasted longer.
17-55.539N
062-52.273W
Moored
Anse de Columbier
(North Coast of St. Barthelemey)
January 17, 2003
After a wonderful, charming white Christmas in Indianapolis, we flew
to a wonderful, charming nude beach.
(After one view, boring.)
Upon returning to Sint Maarten, Tuesday, January 7, we thought that
we would find immediate comfort and familiarity, but it took us a day
or two to adjust to our old life. Indianapolis, of course, was wonderful.
There, we had a large shower, with a stationary floor, with a place
to put soap, with sufficient room to raise your arm without banging
an elbow, with unlimited water, with hot water, glorious. Of course,
we had a magnificent time with our family and our friends. We are
thankful that our family supports this adventure, and that our friends enjoy
our stories and give us a connection to our favorite town, Indianapolis.
Sint Maarten is the north eastern most island of the Caribbean chain.
It is the upper right hand corner. To the north and east--The
Atlantic Ocean. To the south and west, the Caribbean Sea. It
is a free port, with plenty of room for cruise ships and big planes.
We could obtain there anything we wanted, just like home. The
fun of this island is diving, snorkeling, gambling, eating, and drinking.
John was known to spend a little time in Margaritaville, which means
more than two in one day--radical!!
Chichi and John made a deal. We work in the morning, play in
the afternoon. The highlight of our play time in Sint Maarten was
an afternoon at Bahia Oriente, the "clothing optional" beach. Dear
reader, stand by for a distinctly male point of view, a complete and honest
response. As the primary writer of these commentaries, John sets the
tone, and here is my take on a nude beach: looks great for women,
especially those with the correct distribution of fatty tissue. This
comment is limited to toplessness. When bottomlessness showed itself,
well, no fun at all, especially when 60-70 year old men were involved, big
bellies. No No. Too much.
The sailing life includes a neighborliness, a wonderful atmosphere
of making new friends, and keeping old ones. An example are Bill
and Judy Speary, who heard us on the radio, and therefore stopped by the
marina to say hello. We had first meet them, briefly, in Bermuda.
They took us to The Pub in Sint Maarten, and came to say good bye
the day we left. Three days later, we met them again, here in Columbier,
moored just 100 feet away. We have spent a good part of the last
three days with them, talking, laughing, trading stories, even snorkeling.
Fortunately for us, Bill knows computers inside and out. He
was able to fix a problem with our installation, and he suggested new ways
of using our computer to get weather information. Bill and Judy met
in the 80s while working for a private company developing new computer
capabilities for the Federal Aviation Administration. They bought
their boat, Janus, a Whitby 42, without ever having sailed before. Since
then, they almost sold the boat three times, always after a trying circumstance.
Today, they are glad to still have her. Judy got our blood rolling
with descriptions of their experiences with Carnival in Trinidad. She
still has steel drums on board, and plays them well. We hope to see
them frequently along the way.
We spent one night moored at Ile Fourche, a small, dry island about
two miles north of Columbier. Not much to report here. The
main scenery was goats. Still, a wonderfully quiet evening.
Our guide book, as well as Bill and Judy, suggested a 45 minute hike
over a ridge to Anse des Flamandes. This short trek reminded us
of both The Smokies and the dry lands of the west. At one moment,
cactus and dry land. At the next, lush shrubbery and a million butterflies.
To satisfy a raging hunger, we stopped at a restaurant, part of
The Baie des Anges Hotel, where we had excellent food, and paid unexpected
prices, over $15 for a luncheon salad. (A room for two facing the
beach is over $350 per night, in season.) Oh well. It was worth it,
especially when another guest selected her lobster from a tank. Upon
seeing the lobster, she asked to hold it, to be photographed with
it. The photo probably will be good, but nothing compared to the
scream she let out when this living four pounder decided to pinch her thigh.
Another special person from Sint Maarten is Vesta, a school teacher
we met -- on a bus --near Phillsburg. She heard us talking, and offered
help. She then visited us at the marina, the first week of December.
We called her on our return in January, and asked her to stop by
again. This time she brought her husband Moses.
Vesta and Moses are natives of Guyana. Their goal is a retirement
home in Antigua, 5-10 years from now. This description of Vesta and Moses
is wholly inadequate. To understand this loving couple, you must see
those big smiles in person. We appreciate their friendship, and hope
to see them again.
The capital of St. Barthelemy is Gustavia, about three miles
from here, around a corner. We plan to travel there tomorrow, and
to spend a few days in this islands civilization. With a little luck,
Jimmy Buffett will show up to entertain us.