14-29.267N
061-04.881W
Anchored
Petite Anse D'Arlet
Martinique
Sunday, March 30
After motoring here on Thursday, we snorkled, toured the small town, had
two good lunches at an outdoor cafe northwest of the river, and relaxed,
with several hours of boredom and nothingness, which we have come to expect
as part of our lives, especially during the hot hours of 1 to 4:30 p.m. Tomorrow,
we sail to Rodney Bay, St. Lucia.
At both lunches, we conversed with our table neighbors. The first was
a couple from Paris. She is a Paris fashion representative who makes
frequent trips to New York, and he is, ooops, I forgot. For them, Martinique
is a wonderful vacation spot. Today, we conversed with two French military
personnel on assignment to Ft. du France. He is a finance specialist,
and she a computer specialist. We tried to engage them in a conversation
about the war in Iraq, but they preferred to talk about their current experiences,
and about the assistance of France in The American Revolution. The
waiter owner of the cafe reminded us of Roberto Binini.
14-27.935N
060-52.425W
Docked
Marin Yacht Harbor
Martinique
Tuesday, March 25
Last weekend we first decided to sail north from Martinique, effectively
turning us back to The United States, probably by way of Puerto Rico, Hispanola,
and the other big island. That night, we could not sleep, and Chichi
articulated her feelings the next morning. She said that turning back
now would leave us feeling incomplete, because our goal had been to see all
the major Caribbean islands, down to Trinidad, and that turning back now seemed
to her like "the beginning of the end."
Sailing decisions never are simple, and can be emotional. John, at
first, was convinced that we will not be content going to Trinidad, because
the hurricane season might force us to stay there for a long period, perhaps
six months, and he envisioned boredom and frustration. The other side
of the coin is that we could fly home for a time, but, then, that forces us
to leave the boat, and boats always decay during storage. What to do.
What to do. John was very upset over the decision, and the doubt.
After our sleepless night, we changed the decision, and we will go
to Trinidad, accepting whatever future situation is presented to us.
The above paragraphs do not convey the difficulty of making such decisions.
Imagine your feelings if you changed the location of your home every
few days and weeks. Chichi rides with these decisions very well, but
John feels them in the stomach.
A side story is that we told our friends, The Schweitzers, that we are headed
home. They had been trying to convince us to keep up with them, perhaps
spending several weeks together in The Grenadines, including some night passages
as partners. When they left for St. Lucia, we felt then that we might
not see them again for a long time. This caused sadness for all four
of us.
We told The Schweitzers on the SSB Monday morning, and everyone seems happy.
Thursday, March 20
Great News Today: Chico was accepted at The Indiana University School
of Medicine.
*****
The boiling lake of Dominica is the largest boiling crater lake in the
world. Beautiful to behold, but hard to reach. Over three hours
of arduous hiking, in each direction, leaving us void of energy.
We considered turning back several times, but ego kept us going, and we
are proud.
The lake is one of those "I can't believe it" natural wonders. It
steams, and boils, boils and steams, all emanating from a crater perhaps 800
feet below our ridge.
The diameter could be, maybe, 5 American football fields. To get
there, we climbed 1500 feet from where the tax left us, itself about 2000
feet above sea level. We traversed mud, both hot and cold streams,
and a desolate plain where we first sensed the smell of sulfur.
Our companions were Marianne and Judy, physical therapists from Belgium,
on a one year tour with a hospital near St. Anne, Martinique. Our
guide was Ken, a descendant of the Caribs, and a true student. He
spoke fluent French with the girls, excellent English with us, flowing Patwa
with the natives, and who knows what else. He is an official, certified
Dominican guide, meaning he has taken courses, some as far away was Mt. Washington,
Maine. His powerful personal story was about Hurricane David that left
Dominica without resources for three years after 1979. His house "exploded;"
his wife and mother were hospitalized six weeks in Barbados. For the
three years, the island depended 100 % on foreign assistance from other
islands, France, and, of course, The U.S.
Upon our return that night to the Hotel Fort Young (where the concierge
arranged our trip), we had dinner, then set off in the dinghy for Pachamama.
But, we could not find her. Oh well, no big deal. We just
missed her on the first pass, but found her on the second, about 45 minutes
later. Tension? You bet.
We were moored south of The Anchorage Hotel, which is south of Roseau,
the capital of Dominica.
During our trip from Portsmouth to Roseau, we noticed that other similarly
rigged boats were going faster. Why? Why? Why? We
learned why. Pachi, our dinghy, turned over, and was trailing behind
us upside down, creating drag. We could not turn her. We crossed
our fingers that she would hold on tight. She did not. The painter
broke, and we turned to save our dear friend. We came up on the windward
side, drifted down on her, and Chichi attached a line, with incredible nerve
and dexterity. Then we resumed our trip at three knots.
Once a week since Sint Maarten we have talked to Jochen and Anna Schweitzer,
aboard Germania, true friends that we met back off The Delaware River.
They crossed to Bermuda and Sint Maarten with us. When we talked
to them from Roseau, they said they were waiting for us in St. Anne, Martinique.
We met them again Monday night, right here, after a short trip from
Dominica with a one night stop at St. Pierre. Since then, we have
eaten on their boat, shared punch on our boat, and a full dinner on our
boat last night. These are our favorite people from the sailing experience.
Now, they want us to follow them to The Grenadines, but we are discussing
a plan to turn back north, then to The U.S. by June. Stay tuned. We
must make this decision in a couple of days.
Work here at the marina includes polishing all the stainless, locating
an air leak in our fresh water plumbing system, checking a noise in the
drive shaft, fixing a light near the binnacle, general cleaning, purchasing
supplies, and getting Pachi back in order after almost four continuous weeks
unnatched to a dock.
15-34.809N
061-27.743W
At Anchor
Portsmouth
Commonwealth of Dominica
March 6
Here we first encountered "boat boys," or "boat vendors" who seek out arrivals
several miles out, and accompany boats to anchor. These are colorful
fellows, with bright boats, and wild names, such as "Providence," "Sea Bird,"
and "Alex of Arabia." Our fellow is Jeffrey, aboard Sea Bird. He
helped us through customs, doing laundry, and taking in garbage. He
also arranged for his friend Jefferson to take us up The Indian River, a
wonderful trip, though less than a mile long. Jefferson positions himself
like a Venetian gondolier, and lectures on everything seen. He knows
the common names of species, as well as the Latin names. Nicely done.
We went to two church services on Sunday. The first was a two-hour
mass that completely captivated John. I liked the rollicking Caribbean
music, and the priest was a real preacher who spoke about human circumstances
with down to earth, humorous references. He was great. After
coffee, we headed back to the boat, only to find another church service with
rollicking music. With this enthusiastic music all around, you do not
know whether to be pious, or to dance your feet off. The leaders of
this service were three gals singing close harmony; the lead reminded us of
Janet Jackson.
The people of Dominica are the most openly friendly we have encountered
so far. They greet everyone, on every corner, in every bus,
in every restaurant. They love life, and love their island. Our
time here has been spent hiking the Carib national park, and taking a combination
of buses and trucks to The Carib Territory, to which the original Caribs
were relegated by the ever growing and every expanding European populations.
We arrived Thursday, and we will leave tomorrow, Wednesday, for Roseau,
18 miles south, the capital of Dominica.
JOHN SAW THE GREEN FLASH! (See commentary below, in the February
file, when Chichi first saw The Green Flash.
15-52.010N
061-35.216W
At Anchor
Bourg des Saintes
Iles des Saintes
March 3, 2003
Perhaps the greatest world festival is Carnival, celebrated in dozens
of nations, Sunday through Tuesday, 40 days before Easter. These
decidedly boisterous
events, seemingly non religious, are irrevocably tied to the church
calendar, and usually begin or end at a church.
The common features of Carnivals are brilliant costumes, floats, and
rapid samba like music with continuous dancing. Some are grand, such
as Rio and New Orleans. Others are spectacular, such as Oruro, Bolivia, where
participants spend hundreds of dollars to create devil- or monster-like masks,
some weighing as much as 15 pounds. The Oruro tradition combines the
Quechua,, Aymara and Inca cultural beliefs, with Catholic rituals at the
end. The Carnival in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, is more like Rio, but not
as openly sensual. Derivations of Carnival have different styles on
different dates, such as La Semana Santa in Seville in which groups of 20
persons or more carry heavy religious images, for miles, surrounded
by intense crowds. In Key West, the carnival is called Fantasy Fest,
and is tied to halloween as well as to gay life.
Carnival in Iles des Saintes started yesterday and continues through
tomorrow, Tuesday. On a world scale, it is a small event. On
an island having barely 2,000 permanent residents, it is relatively huge.
All three of the town's trucks carry mobile sound systems, transmitting
continuous dance music, followed by well rehearsed groups of dancers, first
children, then adults.
Yesterday, the parade started at 4. Three divisions passed by,
marching to music from the truck, produced by two keyboards, a singer,
and 10 to 20 percussionists. Loud? Of course. Fun? You
bet. The parade passes by, then stops, as the first group performs
a choreographed routine, guess where? Yep. In front of the Catholic
church. For the standing performance, each group clearly had rehearsed
for months, but an equal effort went to make the costumes. Every dancer
and musician wore a colorful costume, with hand prepared matching shoes
and bonnets. The cost? Our guess: $200 each. When
the last group finished about 6 p.m., each group went to its own club for
a night of fun and dancing. We understand that another parade is tonight
at 9 p.m., and the final event tomorrow at 4, undoubtedly ending at midnight,
the beginning of Ash Wednesday.
Yesterday at breakfast (bagets and coffee), we met Hubert, who arrived
here from Brittany 18 years ago. He is a fisherman, and world traveler,
who laboriously, and successfully, communicates in broken English, with an
infectious enthusiasm and twinkle. We might see more of him later today.
Additional notes: March 5
Hubert, pronounced oooobear, showed up yesterday. We were sitting
quietly in the cockpit, when we heard "sheshe, sheshe," We looked over
the stern to see him waiting there, with fins and goggles. He had
swum the some 200 years from shore. The three of us got in the dinghy,
motored to Elet Cabrit (Island of Goats), climbed to the top, toured the
old fort, then returned to the beach for an hour of snorkeling. Great
time!
Carnival ended yesterday. More spectacular music and costumes.
Thoroughly fun.