January 2003
 

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.

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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.

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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.