Kalunamoo

We were in St. Lucia for all of March and half of April. During that time, we did fly to the States for eight days to attend a gathering of Maureen’s siblings in Arlington VA. We gathered together to remember Michael Powers, Maureen’s younger brother, who passed away ten years ago. Ten years ago, we flew from Guadeloupe for his funeral although it doesn’t seem that long ago. It was a wonderful way to remember a very missed family member.

St. Lucia is our usual mid-season “break” when our daily routine of life aboard changes to include dentist appointments, maintenance or repair issues, and some time docked in a marina. In that respect, we consider St. Lucia an “easy island”. That was no different this time, as our last post described the thru hull issue. Besides crossing paths with cruisers we knew, we always meet new ones. So, our time there always includes many social gatherings, including the ubiquitous Mexican Train Dominoes, and a few beach BBQ’s and dinners. We finally left in Mid-April for the sail to Bequia.

That brings me to the topic of Adverse Currents. The sail south from Rodney Bay to Bequia is about 75 miles. For us, that is about a 12-hour run. We leave St. Lucia very early in the morning to ensure an arrival before sunset. So, at 4 am we set off going south. The weather window was good, with little chance of squalls and moderate winds of 17-20 knots from the east. Motoring the lee side of the islands is usually very calm as the strong winds only occur at the ends of the islands and provide good sailing between them.

We were surprised when going south from Rodney Bay, that in the lee of the island there was a bit of a lumpy sea. Not a short wind chop nor a long swell. I have not seen that before, but it was not that concerning. By sunrise we were past the Pitons and started crossing the St. Vincent Channel. As expected, the winds kicked in, at 20 plus knots due to the end of the island wind compression zone and we were off sailing. Well, actually motor sailing, as the winds were too far forward and there seemed to be a head current.

Sure enough, the current for the next three hours was at least 3 knots on the nose. Wind was on the port beam and seas were moderate. Boat speed through the water was almost a constant 8 knots while over ground speed was only 5. This is known as an Adverse Current!

The East Caribbean islands, the Lesser Antilles, running north and south lie mostly in the path of the westward flowing Equatorial current. This means that this northwest flowing current, which eventually feeds the Gulf Stream current off the U.S. East Coat, must pass between the islands. It is stronger the further south toward Trinidad. The strongest current is usually between Trinidad and Grenada and also between St. Lucia and St. Vincent. It can be locally stronger elsewhere as well. This told me that a head current should be expected. Bequia is the first island of the Grenadines just south of St. Vincent. I was surprised, however, at the strength and duration of the current. As we have crossed this many times, I had to figure out why it was different this time.

Ocean currents are long term conditions and don’t change quickly. There are eddies and fluctuations on the order of weeks and seasonal variations. Tidal currents, on the other hand, are daily, usually twice a day. They can add or subtract from the underlying ocean currents. These two currents are very evident in places like the Caribbean Islands. In addition, local weather conditions can also affect the surface conditions. Longer term trends may even play a part (salinity and density play a part in driving ocean currents).

It just so happened, that the full moon was only a day before our passage from St. Lucia. Also, there were consistent eastly trade winds for days. Full moons produce higher tides that “run” toward the moon. As we know, the full moon sets at sunrise which means the tidal current flows west and enhances the west flowing equatorial current. These three conditions and others must have  combined to result in the strong current we experienced. Three quarters of the way across to St. Vincent the current relented and we were doing 8 knots through the water and ground without the iron genny! We made up the time and made it to Bequia in under 12 hours. On talking to other sailors here in Bequia, they too noticed the strong current while sailing south.

Adverse currents certainly affect sailors. But aren’t we all, at one time or another, affected by adverse currents in our lives? The graphic of the ocean currents by Copernicus in the Windy weather site looks much like the Vincent Van Gogh painting The Starry Night. The swirls, twists, turns, and the unexpected of life flow through our lives much like the painting and the graphic. “Go with the flow”, so they say, when you can neither tell where it will lead, nor fathom the mystery director’s course. Van Gogh may have had a clue to sense this as an integral part of all our lives. Certainly, in the political world, adverse currents have surfaced and posed questions of where they lead and who will be affected. A loved one passes, circumstances change, the ocean moves mysteriously. Wouldn’t it be great to have a graphic? Or maybe an artist has already painted a picture for us that we just need to understand and appreciate?     

We spent three weeks in Martinique. Maureen and I managed to remember a few words in French which didn’t carry us much beyond “Good day”, or “2 chocolate croissants”.  Our friends Polda and Nada, staying at an Airbnb in St. Anne, graciously drove us to the Pottery Village (last blog), the Decathlon for some sporting goods and a few restaurants. We also spent time with other cruisers we knew who passed thru St. Anne including two jam sessions aboard Kalunamoo. One thing about staying in one place for an extended period is that eventually cruisers that you know will stop by and say hello.

“Just don’t stop and stare, say hello in there, Hello”. Thanks John Prine, we’re almost at that age.

By the end of February, we were ready to move south. “February made me shiver, with every forecast I predicted…” Thanks Don Mclean.

The weather, since the end of January through most of February was not the best for island passages. The Trade winds were roaring almost constantly, and rain squalls were a virtual daily occurrence. Wind 25 knots plus with higher gusts in squalls and seas over 10 feet kept us in port. We recorded 30 knot gusts at anchor in St Anne. The total rainfall we measured (yes, we have a rain gauge) for February was 5.46 inches. For comparison, the average February rainfall in Martinique is 2.17 inches. The average wettest month in Martinique is October with a total of 9.4 inches. Their yearly total is 81 inches. No need for a water maker last month!

The weather window on the last day of February was predicted to be fair to sail south. St Lucia is only a 4-hour sail, and conditions were good until the north end of the island. Of course, as luck would have it, just as the compressed winds at the end of the island kick in and boost winds 5-10 knots, a squall was also coming off the island. Rain, wind and waves made the last hour into Rodney Bay “salty” but all ended well in the calm water of the bay. We dropped the hook, lowered the dink, went ashore, entered Customs and had and wonderful lunch at Sea Salt.

That brings me to the topic of this blog. Among the many concerns cruisers have when discussing ports and sailing are two that are ubiquitous. The first is the question of how rolly the anchorage is in the chosen port. I wrote about this before and quantified the answer in Kalunamoo’s 7 Stage Roll Guide. From 1, which is “Calm as a lake” to 7 which is “WTF? We’re out of here”. We have experienced all seven stages over the last number of years. Of course, conditions are not static and so all anchorages could experience different stages at any time. Hence the question of “How’s the Parking” is germane to specific time and place.

The second concern asks the question of “How’s the Parking” in regard to the anchorage and also to the vessel’s car, (i.e – the dinghy). This entails wanting to know the location, condition, size, safety, and popularity of the “parking spot” for the car when going ashore. It is true that most dinghies can be landed ashore on a beach. Provided that is where you want to be, maybe to go swimming or have a brie on the beach, and that is fine. You do have to consider the surf conditions at the shoreline as most dinghys and passengers prefer to stay dry while aboard the craft and expect to walk off on dry land. It is rather embarrassing to land on a beach after a wave fills it with sand and water because your timing was off, judging the surf. Remember pictures of the Normandy landing? For those who have never experienced this type of adventure, they haven’t cruised enough. We have cruised enough.

The other option is to park the car at a specified “dingy dock”. I’m not too sure if that term is meant to describe the dock itself or the craft it is meant to serve. We have seen, and used, many that must refer to the former as one can almost experience the Normandy Beach Landing on such “dinghy docks”.

Two of the above described “docks” come to mind. The floating pontoon dock at Pirates Beach, St Anne and the “walk the plank” dock in English Harbor. I can accept the Pirates Beach situation more than the English Harbor one (which is literally in the shadow of the mega-yachts there). There are others which I will not mention, that fit the same bill. All I can say is that good coordination and balance is required when using these docks or proper swimsuits are recommended. (Note to self – get pictures of these!)

As mentioned above, finding a suitable place to park one’s car (see cruiser’s definitions above) extends to other concerns. Many docks are specific to businesses that maintain them (like a parking lot for their customers). These don’t always mean they are maintained as well as their shore based parking lots. The one for Budget Marine in Falmouth Harbor, Antigua requires a certain agility and a “leap of Faith”. Some require rock climbing experience, especially at low tide (I’m thinking of you, St. Anne, Martinique). Some require expertise in short distance sprints when ocean swells gush up from under your feet if you’re not fast enough to outrun them (I’m thinking of you Deshaies, Guadeloupe).

To be fair there are some very good docks to be found: Jolly Harbor Marina, and the Falmouth town dinghy dock in Antigua. Bequia, Le Marin, and others, if sometimes too small are really good. (I’m thinking of the very small one at Marina Bas-du-Fort, Guadeloupe). Most marinas have decent dinghy docks although some restrict who can use them to go ashore outside the marina.

Other issues concern the safety of leaving your car and expecting it be there when you return to it. I guess it is like a convertible car ashore with the top down. It is easy to get in and hot wire it away. Our defense against such occurrences relies onheavy chain. Notice too, in the picture, how tight the parking is. The car is just one big rubber inflatable fender. No worries about door dings from cars parked too close together. On the other hand, it is common curtsey not to tie up tight to the dock. This way others can squeeze in, something the driver on the right doesn’t understand. Also, the dock itself could be classified as a “porcupine” dock. Nails, spikes, and other implements of dinghy destruction are embedded into the dock ready to deflate the unaware. Don’t ask why I know this.

Well, I suppose a whole guidebook could be written about dinghy docks, where they are, their condition and usefulness and maybe someday there will be one. It is a subject that deserves some consideration. Of course, the business owners or authorities that construct and maintain these, seem to have little interest in the subject. Maybe if the customers, who need them and help support those businesses came into their stores in soaking wet bathing suits because that was the only way to get there, they might reconsider. Or maybe not.

This from the Captain’s Log

“It is the second week of the second month and as I last penned in this sea journal, the Windman Cometh had cometh and has yet to depart. In the clutches of this adversary, we make our plans. This captain and his mate resolve to sail south with full knowledge of the prevailing conditions bestowed upon the winds and seas, trusting their stout vessel will see and carry them thru.  “Set course and make for way to Ilet a Kahouanne”. That little speck of rock northwest off the rugged Guadeloupe coast was our north star. From there, head downwind to Pte. Du Gros Morne and Anse Deshaies. That deep water harbor will shelter us for the night, out of the eastly swell and winds. But it is well known that the little harbor serves up some might gusts flowing down the valley and out to all vessels hooked into its deep seabed. Dragging their anchors in the gusty nights is a most common occurrence to those luckless sailors in that lovely harbor, one that this captain is well aware of.  We set sail with reefed main and flew only the Yankee stay and made good our southerly course. The seas were up but not overpowering as we sailed into the early afternoon. We fetched up and dropped the hook in 5 fathoms. It set well, but the anchorage was full and our swing took our vessel uncomfortably close to a nearby sloop. In less than an hour, orders we given to weigh anchor and to make for Malendure before dark.”

The open roadstead at Malendure has ample space to anchor. Being half way down the west coast of the big island, it is immune, mostly, of any swell but the dreaded northerlies. None were forecast, and so it was the safe harbor that we sought. 

Arriving near sunset we dropped the hook close to shore. A few light showers passed by, but the evening grew still, and a restful night lay ahead without the concern of dragging anchors.

We stayed another day and lunched at the headland restaurant Le Rocher de Malendure. A very pleasant eatery. Before retiring for another peaceful night, we contacted a fellow cruiser, s/v BeBe anchored in the next Anse south, Bouillante. Bouillante is known for its geothermal power plant. The hot springs supply the energy for the town and surrounding area. The discharge of the warm water supplies a hot tub experience in the bay.

Arrangements were made to play Mexican Train Dominoes the next afternoon, which we did, and then made plans to sail to Le Saints at sunrise. That evening, the population of Bouillante, held a celebration ashore. It must have been a warmup to the French Carnaval in Forte de France. Drums boomed, voices in the night, a cacophony of competing bands echoed in the anchorage. Fortunately by 2100, they closed down and peace prevailed.

The sail to the Le Saints was not as difficult as anticipated. Despite strong winds and moderate seas, we crossed over from Vieux Fort without too much discomfort. Arriving in the Saints by noon, all moorings were occupied, and so we dropped the hook off Tete Rouge. This would only be an overnight stay, so no shore leave was granted. The next day we were off to Dominica. We were on a mission to get to Martinique before the winds and seas kicked up again. The sail to Dominica was not terrible and again spent one night in Portsmouth before continuing south to Martinique.

It is at the ends of these islands that the winds and seas build above the prevailing conditions that makes passages “sporty”. This is due to the “compression zone” where the easterly winds whip around the ends of the island, think of the amusement park ride – the Whip. Sailing off the southern tip of Dominica we were faced with 25 kts and short steep waves. Ugh! But an hour or so later, thrashing thru it all, the seas settled down somewhat for the remainder of the sail to St. Pierre in Martinique.

It would be another overnight in St. Pierre and then the final leg to St. Anne. The last 10 miles of that leg is a bear.

St Anne is ten miles due east of Diamond Rock. We got to Diamond Rock with favorable current but that meant it was wind against current. This builds short steep seas. Rounding Diamond was a challenge and passing close by nerve racking. Then we faced ten miles directly up wind to St Anne. The other option was to continue past Diamond and sail halfway to St Lucia and then tack back to Martinique. We opted to motor sail, close hauled, directly to St Anne.

By afternoon we dropped the hook in 3 fathoms in the Mouillage de Ste Anne. I made sure our hook was well dug into the sandy bottom and declared our 200 mile trek from Antigua was completed. The anchorage is choppy but not rolly and as expected, the Trade Winds are up again for another week. We will be here for a while! Time to enjoy French cuisine and a bit of “out and about” excursions. The first of which was to Le Village de la Poterie.

Ex-cruising friends , Nada and Polde(s/v NADA) are in St Anne for a month and they invited us to go with them to the Pottery Village near Trois Islets. Nada drove and despite some misdirection and a long traffic delay because of road repair, we had a lovely time and a great lunch at Le Jardin des Envies.

Le Village was a late 1600’s Jesuit cite and then a building materials facility in the 1700’s. Terracotta bricks are still made there. But today it is mostly an enclave for local artists, craftsmen, cafes, restaurants and yes, t-shirt vendors, including a go-cart track! I believe it is also home of The Men of Clay.

We have seen these “claymen” in the Fort de France carnival a few times. They paint  themselves in terracotta like makeup and parade in the carnival. They then freeze in the posture of clay statues in the style of the Neg Marons (runaway slaves and freemen of the Caribbean). It is really something to see.

We’ll be here for a few weeks before heading south to St. Lucia and hope the winds and seas become more amendable to moving about. Are we the Neg Maron’s escaping the clutches of the weather? Until then, viva la France!