Guadaloupe in Pictures

We spent two weeks in Guadeloupe in Iles des Saintes and on Basse Terre, two of the four main island groups.  We hiked, snorkeled and swam, met a few cruisers and entertained ourselves watching boats and crew.  Our hikes usually took us to bird’s eye views, best explained in pictures.

Iles des Saintes is a lovely archepelago of eight islands, two of which are inhabited.  We stayed in two delightful anchorages - one in the only town, Bourg des Saintes on the largest island, Terre d’en Haut, and the second just around a headland, the Pain de Sucre, at a beach and tiny, empty resort.  Both were fun - the town was decidedly French in feel and look - shuttered houses with red roofs and a shingled church.  We enjoyed provisioning our cupboards with a few delicacies straight from France - at a price.  Baguettes were poking out of everyone's backpacks.

One night was spent at an anchorage just outside the only marina in Basse Terre, the capitol city, on the island of the same name.  We spent a day walking around this rather sad city that seems to be crumbling.  Granted, it is not built for the tourist but the flavour is one of poverty and slow dilapidation which you wouldn't assume in the nations capital. The walkway along the coast, built maybe a decade ago, is completely unused.  The city, however, is built on the slopes of  some stupendous mountains rising from the sea which make a stunning background.

We then spent several days at Deshaies.  Again, a small, low key town with busy comings and goings of boats and lots to do on foot.  An enterprising local woman dinghied around to each boat early a.m. and at dusk with appropriate food offerings - baguettes, croissants and fruit for breakfast or veg, fruit and French red wine in the evening.

We missed a lot of the interior of Guadeloupe but our biggest regret was not being able to climb La Soufriere, the volcano crater on the island which dominates the southern profile.  It gives us an excuse for returning some day.

Bourg des Saintes from near sea level

Bourg des Saintes from a little bit higher.

And Bourg des Saintes from the top, at Fort Napoleon.

La Soufriere on Basse Terre was rarely out of the clouds but still made for a pretty stunning view from Milly.

A hermit crab taking cover from the lens.  He/she was at least 200m above sea level.  We were ascending straight up to the Le Chameau lookout tower on a steep, rocky hike and saw many of these guys, hiding out in their disguises, where it was so dry only cacti and scrub grew.  If they came from the sea, they must have made a mad scramble on those tiny legs.

Milly from on high near the 350m top.

Bourg des Saintes from the top of the island at Le Chameau.

Fort Napoleon - a great museum and arboretum both on a small scale which exactly suited the heat.

Boats are everywhere.  This one was built in the '40's by an eccentric nautical lover.  Since the '50's it has been the home and office of the town doctor, anchor chain and all.

Boats are even in church.  They are sacred, indeed.

We have reached a drier climate where cacti abound.

Bourg des Saintes at sea level.  As you can tell, it's hard to stop taking pictures of this photogenic town.

At this point, we were lost on a path that eventually became one for goats only.  Great views though.

A sample of the sorry state of affairs in Basse Terre.  The detour for this footbridge was either fording the river or a major hike to an unfriendly highway.  We saw a local woman sidestepping across the bridge while clutching the railing and followed suit after she gave mimed directions in French with a serious tone.  Over the hump, I could feel the bridge which had big holes in it, shifting and swaying underfoot.  We were clutching the steel railing, too!

The best view of Base Terre was from our boat.  Classes of laughing and shouting kids took part in kayak lessons all day and a sailing school in the evening.  

La Soufriere gave Basse Terre a stunning backdrop.  

A great hike from Deshaies.  Up a river stepping from boulder to boulder for a couple of hours.  A canopy of trees offered much needed shade and the water was clear and cool on the occasional misstep.

Growth was more lush here along the river.  Epiphytes abound.

After about two and a half hours we reached a cavern with water gushing out of the crevice between high rock cliffs.  There was at least 20 feet of exposed packed earth and root on top.  It looked like a giant had sliced a piece off and made it very clear why vegetation is needed to prevent erosion.  

As we neared the more shaded cavern, several boulders were covered with tiny, delicate ferns.  My favourite.

There is a huge, world-class botanical garden in Deshaies.  The photographer was more interested in the aviary then the plants but the colour on these parrots were pretty astounding and gave us a close up of those we had seen flying through the trees in French Guiana.

Peter satisfied my gardeners spirit by patiently following on rambling paths and taking some shots.  It took more than two hours to get through the extensive grounds.

We often wander through cemeteries on our hikes.  The variety of style always amazes us.  This one was unique.  Some graves were only marked with conch shells while the tombs were all above ground.  Those for females were decorated with pink tiles and those for males in blue.  

Milly juxtaposed.

Another hike took us to this undeveloped beach.  From there we decided to try a long, steep and rocky ascent over Grande Morne, a very high promontory, back to Milly...in flip flops.  

Enjoying an early morning cruise and cup of tea.

Hello, English Harbour, Antigua!

On Route to Guadeloupe

Barbados northern shore.  Wild with enormous breaking waves far out to sea.

After almost a month enjoying friends’ and family’s company in Barbados, it was time to depart.  We picked up some diesel at Port St Charles.  Peter Douglas ran down to say farewell just as we cast off.  No time for a hug but a big thank-you, Peter and Dale, for hosting us.  We had a fantastic time.

We set sail at 3:00 p.m. for what we figured, according to wind forecasts, would be a 36 hour trip - 140 NM with light winds.  We could make it on one tack on a close reach (slightly upwind…again).  

The Barbados north shore was awe-inspiring with huge breaking waves far out from the northern point.  We stayed clear but admired the view.  And then another night at sea.  Beautiful sky with some bioluminescence and a very small waxing moon - the night was so dark that it was difficult to distinguish the horizon.

My poor photography technique with blurry eyes or camera.  These are the screens we look at all night when not checking the horizon.  Radar on the left, the chart on the right. 

 During my watch, the wind veered (that is it began to turn from east to south of east ) so much that for a short time we were almost headed back to Barbados.  Navigation corrected, sails trimmed. Then it died - genoa furled, main sail in, motor on.  Then it came on strong and gradually backed.  Back on track and up to 20 knots - genoa out, mainsail trimmed, motors off.  No time to listen to podcasts on this watch and only some deep kneebends for fitness.  I was busy!

Dawn.  As always, beautiful.

Peter’s watch was, of course, completely uneventful.  It’s that 2000 to 2300 watch that sees all the action - I must suggest a switch!)  Because of the higher wind then expected through the night, we had only 78 NM to go at 8 a.m.

Peter going into and under our cockpit sole locker to fix a squeaky autopilot.  As you can see, he loves this stuff.

Lovely sailing through the day.  Dominica was visible - mountainous contours made us look forward to exploring her later in the season.  Just before sunset a pod of dolphins came to dance at Milly’s bow.  This was the best show yet.  The water was so clear that we could see them easily - when underwater, it looked like they had been glazed with aquamarine watercolour.  They scooted back and forth, under and over each other.  We could almost feel the spray from their blowholes and we could definitely smell the fish they had eaten for lunch. 

Sunset over Dominica

Problem was that, again, we would be getting to Marie Gallant, our destination and an island of Guadeloupe, well after sunset.  Instead, of tacking outside the harbour all night on slo-mo as we had done when arriving in Tobago, we decided to attempt anchoring in the dark.  This is contrary to all the best advice of veteran sailors.  According to our cruising guide, there was a wide open anchorage off a beach on the west coast that offered good protection and holding.  We edged in, Peter at the helm, myself on the bow looking for fishing buoys that marked trap locations.  A few were spied which Peter negotiated.  Finally, we dropped anchor in about 7 meters of water.  We held fast and toasted arriving in a new country.

Next morning, we awoke to the lovely, bucolic Marie Gallant off our bow - and to our stern, starboard and port side fishing buoys as far as we could see.  The sea gods had been smiling on us the night before.

Marie Gallant seen from our anchorage - a little far from shore, maybe.

We didn’t even step ashore on Marie Gallant - we’ll have to check it out next time around.  Off to celebrated Iles des Saintes to clear in.

Holiday Season in Barbados - All about the people

Those red blossoming trees are poinsettias - better than Loblaws!  You know Christmas is coming when they grow that big!

Relative to our isolation in port after port in Brazil, our experience in Barbados was nonstop conviviality.  Even before arriving, Peter Douglas, a previous acquaintance through our sailor children, secured the use of one of two mooring balls at Port St Charles for our use and, because it was not available immediately upon our arrival, invited us to stay at his private dock in the lovely condo development.

Within minutes of our arrival, Peter arrived in his dinghy to guide us to the required officials and then to his home.  He and his wife, Dale, assisted us in tying up and treated us to dinner at the yacht club.  Apart from Trinidad, an arrival at a foreign port had never been so easy or so welcoming.  The Douglases opened their home to us - we could not flush, or drain our dish water or even our tooth brushing water into the lagoon.  The rules are strict to protect their sealife which we fully appreciate so, of course, we complied.  We tramped through their house for all ablutions….plus laundry!  We washed Milly, inside and out, with their water supply to ready her for our children’s visit.  So exciting!  

We rented a car - for three weeks! - and picked Em and Gid up at the airport.  A military band played at the gate to welcome them.  Emily, our darling daughter, finally got to meet her namesake, Milly.  And I think she approved.  We had a few day sails, one with the Douglases who kindly oriented us to the local bays.  Gid was very game. Being his first time living on a sailboat, we were concerned that he enjoy it or else the two might not come as often.  I think we managed.  At least, he said he would come again!

Cherry Hill Road overlooking the east side coast - wild and wonderful

A hike along that east side - having a good time

On the way back to Mill, stopped for freshly picked coconuts.  This guy climbed with alacrity!

Fun...

R & R

Taking charge...sort of.

Tom, our son, arrived on the 23rd.  He is a get-up-and-go guy, always busy.  We did our best to please with a daysail on the 24th, two attempts at spear-fishing - unsuccessful, we have to figure that out - a meal or two out.  He jumped off the boom, slung over the water but was disappointed that we didn’t follow.  After a beer or two, we declined.  Wisdom comes with age!

Tom, with the Finn physique at a trailhead on the very edge of the cliff to the sea

A popular Christmas gift that simulates workouts at high altitude!

Diving off boom

Off cockpit roof

and trying to catch a wave

The Douglases kindly hosted us for Christmas Eve dinner.  The kids went out to a Bajan club and came home by TomTom at 2 a.m.  We went to a Bajan hotel on the wild and wooly east coast for Christmas creole brunch and a rum tasting back on Milly with hotdogs for Christmas dinner??  I was still full from brunch.

Christmas on Milly.  Not quite the tree that we used to have but pretty sweet just the same.

Tummies full.  Merry Christmas!

We had a wonderful Christmas, stockings and all.  It was sad to say good-bye to the kids and internet is still a challenge which makes communication tough.  We hope they will come back to visit soon and often.

Harrison Caves - amazing place

The crapper at St. Nicholas Abbey - Peter and Rob used to live with a Crapper which made it all the more fun.

Serendipitously, arrived in Bridgetown for Independence Day parade.  The school children who watched and joined on at the end of the parade.  Each class had a different uniform - all pristine, colourful and seemed to be worn with pride.

The parade watched from a balcony on high

Oops.  Unbeknownst to us, as we got in TomTom the parade morphed onto the water.  Fireworks almost caught us broadside before we figured we should stay tied up for awhile.

One thousand year old baobab tree with 60' circumference trunk.  Theory is that the seed travelled across the Atlantic from West Africa.  Nature always puts us in our place.

Carlisle Bay beautiful beach.

Peter trying his best to catch a wave to no avail while I did yoga on the beach for the first time.

Anne and Rob, our dear friends who visited in Angra dos Reis, Brazil came again to celebrate New Year’s with us and a week of sightseeing in Barbados.  Only one daysail and anchoring in Bridgetown but lots of trips by car.  We had a great week with them and hope they will make Milly an R&R visit at least twice a year.

R & R on Milly

Anne at her favourite sailing post watching the flying fish.

And then there were two days spent at Rabbit Hill, a small Bajan estate on the east side overlooking the Atlantic and all it’s tumult.  It’s owned by Tom and Connie, friends from Stony Lake who will soon be joining us on Milly.  Tom came to Port St Charles bearing gifts of homemade banana bread and a grocery bag full of little limes.  He picked us up for a day visit, hike, tour and lunch on our second day.  Fantastic host, lovely curry and so fun to see his enthusiasm for his beautiful garden. We loved the east side and hiked and lunched again with the Mackenzie’s who were renting Rabbit Hill.

A rudimentary shelter for the hill folk on our hike with Tom.

The walls were a little more sophisticated but still primitive shelter.  A man came out to greet us on our hike past his home with a big smile, dressed in loincloth.

View from the top of the cliff.  Legend has it that a guy who found out that his wife had a lover, rode of the cliff on his horse.  Poor horse.

Thanks, Tom.  We had a great day with you.

All in all, Barbados was a unique and exceptional experience for us because of the people who greeted us, hosted us and visited us.  Thanks, everyone!  We loved your company and hospitality... and Barbados.

View from our anchorage at Port St Charles.

Good-bye, Port St Charles.

Huge waves off the north point of Barbados.  Tom would have loved them.

Upwind Passage to Barbados

Leaving Clark's Court Bay, Grenada at sunrise

Ever since returning to Milly, the fellow cruisers we met from Trinidad to Grenada implied with a disbelieving expression or told us outright that we were crazy to sail to Barbados for Christmas.  It’s an upwind passage that most sailors avoid.  The vast majority of cruisers who arrive at the island have come from the west - that is, Barbados is the first port of call after crossing the Atlantic hailing from the Canaries or Cape Verde.  Compared to these trans-ocean sailors and relative to our months upwind travelling the coast of Brazil, Peter and I were determined to believe that a 36 hour sail to Barbados would be within our capabilities but perhaps, depending on wind and swell, not all that comfortable.  As the day of departure crept toward us and the number of cruisers questioning our sanity multiplied - to the point of suggesting that we should pay for the kids flights to Grenada instead of making the passage - my trepidation increased.  But our kids had chosen this island as our Christmas meeting point and come hell or high water - hopefully neither - we were going to get there.

The 144 NM (as the crow flies) with a 15 knot trade wind on the beam - perfect - would normally take about 15-16 hours.  We figured this upwind course in the forecast light winds would take 36 hours.  We planned to head south toward Tobago on the first tack to get a better angle to Barbados, perhaps only one more long tack if all went well.  The wind was forecast as light (8-12knots) and so we hoped the swell and waves would be smaller and more comfortable, or as comfortable as an upwind passage across open ocean can be.

We left at 6:00 a.m. thinking that we would make Port St Charles harbour before dark the following day.

Remarkably, the forecast was accurate, the wind was light, the swells manageable.  The sail was unremarkable.  We made Port St Charles in 32 hours.  No sweat, no problem - although Milly was still salt-coated with a total of 198 NM actually sailed.  But compared to the southern coast of Brazil, this was a snap.

At our generous friends' private dock in the lagoon at Port St Charles.

And Barbados was well worth the upwind jog.  So to all sailors who are reluctant to sail the upwind trip, pick your time and go - it’s great.  Or, if you must sail downwind, arrive via an Atlantic circuit or, better yet, a circumnavigation.  You’ll be happy with the visit.  More on Barbados to come.

Port St Charles Yacht Club - Our Christmas port of call