Anchored off Basse Terre, Guadeloupe
There is no
proper harbor to anchor at Basse Terre, but we dropped the hook just outside
the breakwater that protects the small marina there. The boat was
rolling sickeningly in the swell that sweeps around the corners of the
island, and Cathy had to stay aboard and watch the boat while I took the
dinghy in to the marina to clear with customs. In less than an hour
all our papers were in order and we were weighing anchor. Unfortunately
the roll was already taking its toll on Cathy and she wasn't feeling too
well. Even so, like the good Mate that she is, she was able to put
together some lunch as we sailed the few miles to the southern tip of the
island.
Passport stamp, Guadeloupe
As we came around
the southern cape at Pointe du Vieux Fort and cleared the wind shadow of
the island, the wind suddenly increased to a steady 30 knots and we started
slamming into the seas. We had decided to tow the dinghy behind us
instead of stowing it on deck because we thought the ten miles to our next
anchorage would be a nice easy sail. Instead, looking behind us we
could see the dinghy taking off on the steep waves and becoming airborne
as the wind rushed in underneath it. Every wave brought the possibility
that the dinghy would flip over and dunk our nearly-new outboard engine.
I held a white-knuckle grip on the tiller and watched the agonizingly slow
rate at which the miles ticked off on our electronic speed log. Finally
we arrived in the lee of the Iles des Saintes and dropped anchor in the
shadow of the small Ilet Cabrit.
Cathy, Jim, Ben, Monika, Richard and Titan-Hoover
We spent over
a week anchored off Ilet Cabrit, enjoying the beautiful views of the surrounding
islands and the fantastically clear water. Anchored nearby on the
sailboat "Feist" were newfound friends Ben and Monika and their dog Titan-Hoover.
It was always a highlight of our day to go with them for Titan-Hoover's
afternoon walk as we combed the beaches or explored the ruins of the old
French fort high up on the hill. A short dinghy ride away was Bourg
des Saintes, a small village of French character. We went ashore
to try and find groceries and suitable birthday presents for Cathy.
On March 20th,
with a morning weather forecast which indicated that the strong trade winds
were finally easing, we set sail for our current location of Point a Pitre.
We started by motoring back across the calm waters of the channel that
only ten days before had caused our dinghy to think it was an airplane.
Later on as we approached the eastern shore of the island of Basse Terre,
the wind filled in, and we enjoyed a nice sail. The lower shores
of this side of the island are a patchwork of fields with small houses.
Behind these the island quickly rises to towering peaks of over 1400 meters
(4600 ft). High up on some of these mountains were perfectly vertical
silver-white ribbons, which, upon inspection with our binoculars, proved
to be incredibly tall waterfalls. We anchored in a large, well protected
harbor behind a series of reefs and low islands. In fact, this harbor
is so well protected (except for the wakes of the ferries which roll us
as they pass) that this is our first calm anchorage in over a month!
It is such a great pleasure to finally be able to sleep through the night.
The city of
Pointe a Pitre is a fantastic mixture of wealth and poverty, activity and
indolence. Parts of it are obviously very poor, with slums made up
of row upon row of shacks made from scraps of corrugated iron and plywood.
But in the city center it is vibrant, with an open public square ringed
by cafes, and with businesses and open markets packing the rest of the
downtown area. The markets are a sensory delight. They are
full of fruits, vegetables, and spices that offer a veritable rainbow of
color. Even with eyes closed, the smell of the spices--cinnamon,
bay leaves, curry and a hundred others--offer a sort of olfactory rainbow.
Add to this the sounds of local music, street traffic, and the voices of
people buying, selling, greeting and talking, and the result is an almost
overwhelming experience. We bought spices, flowers and fruit in the
various markets. Back on the boat we were pleased to receive a taste
sensation as well. Unlike the processed, packaged, almost plastic
foods of the U.S., fresh food here tastes REAL. Tomatoes are red,
soft, juicy and flavorful. The pineapple we bought was an epitome
of what pineapples should be.
Yesterday we
rented a car to explore a little of the island. There is a man named
Raoul who visits the marina every morning and evening and who rents cars
for 150 francs ($25) per day. It's kind of like Rent-a-Wreck in the
U.S. Nothing fancy, no promises. We got a 1000 cc Renault Clio,
loaded four adults and a dog into the tiny passenger compartment, and drove
off. The first item on our agenda was to visit the waterfalls that
we had seen on our sail into Point a Pitre. It took a while to figure
out the roads and how to get around, but we eventually made our way onto
the highway heading south down the coast. We passed miles and miles
of banana fields, each tree having a huge bunch of bananas covered with
a blue plastic bag. (We never found out what the bags are for.)
Then a hard right turn onto a steep, winding, switchback road that took
us up hundreds of meters. The falls (Chutes du Carbet) are part of
a national park that, for some inexplicable reason, forbids dogs.
We took turns watching the dog in the parking lot while the others hiked
up for a view of the series of two falls of 110 and 115 meters (about 375
ft) that cascaded down the side of the mountain.
After a picnic
of baguettes, ham, and Camembert and Edam cheeses, we drove off to find
the island's volcano. We drove back down to the coast, half way around
the big mountain, and up its other flank. This time the little car
had some trouble on the tortuous mountain road, and all "non-essential
personnel" had to get out so the car could make it up a particularly steep
switchback. At the top of the road, we parked the car and hiked an
hour up to the summit. As we got higher, the temperature dropped
and the clouds thickened. The lush green mountainsides around us
disappeared into wisps of gray cloud. We reached the summit at 1397
meters (4582 ft) and then went down a little to the vents. As we
crested a rise, we could hear the sound of gas escaping one of the vents.
It sounded a lot like the air-handling unit of a large building.
The temperature, which had cooled considerably on our climb, now rose rapidly,
and the smell of sulfur was strong. The air was so gray and thick,
partly from the vents and partly from the clouds, that it was difficult
to see much. Still, we enjoyed the thrill of experiencing a volcano,
even if we didn't actually see much of the top of it. It was another
hour's hike down the hill, and we were exhausted by the time we reached
the car.
Today has been
a good day to write a CruiseNews, giving us a chance to rest up from our
exertions on the mountain as well as getting something productive done.
We are now writing e-mail on our laptop and taking a diskette into the
Internet place. This helps us save on the $10/hr Internet cost and
helps us avoid having to type much on keyboards with French layout (q,
w, a, m, z, and all punctuation and numbers are different) and to try and
read Windows drop-down menus in French!