A Sail of Two Idiots (33 page)

I give Chuck and Jen credit for drying themselves off and being ready to set sail the next morning. First we motorsailed the 11 miles to an island in a marine park northwest of St. Barths called Ile Fourchue. The moorings were free (as they are in all St. Barths marine parks and anchorages), we were surrounded by cliffs, and we saw lots of turtles. It was a place we would return to again and again when we were in the neighborhood.

The next morning we motored 5 miles southeast to Gustavia, the main harbor of St. Barths. We were in awe of the megayachts that dwarfed us. How did they fit in there? There wasn't any space for us, so we motored back out. Outside, private moorings were everywhere. It took us an hour of motoring around before we finally found a spot to drop anchor. That chore out of the way, it was time to get on our froufrou and head to shore.

Did you know that the French put meat in everything? When they can't find “meat,” they eat snails. While looking for vegetarian food for us and vegan goodies for Jen and Chuck, we had a pleasant time walking around the quaint neighborhoods before finally settling for a harborside restaurant serving salads, sans snails.

Back on board, Chuck and Jen got a taste of life as liveaboards when swirling currents subjected our hulls and ears to loud slapping all night. I figured they might as well learn the bad with the good. Earplugs anyone?

Our surprisingly chipper couple was up and ready for what turned out to be a great 36-mile sail (about five hours) northwest past St. Martin and over to Anguilla's Road Bay anchorage. We enjoyed the calmest harbor we'd seen in days. We liked it so much that we decided to stay another day. The food and beaches were terrific and the people were friendly (hitchhiking works). We explored a lot of the
island and, although it was quiet, scrubby, and flat, it held a draw for us. We filed it in the back of our minds as a possible future home.

Another perfect sail back east to St. Martin, an uneventful trip through the drawbridge, and there we were anchored back in the lagoon about 2½ hours (17 miles) later. Chuck and Jen had booked a different hotel for their final night, this time on the French side of the island. We were all pleased to see a convenient dinghy dock beckoning.

What did Jen and Chuck think? Well, they are now the proud parents of a little boy, so I'm thinking the trip gave them some food for thought. Oh yeah, raising a kid will be
much
easier! (I kid, sort of.) Congrats!
Félicitations
!

Back on our own, we hunkered down when the “Christmas” winds started howling. There's nothing special about these winds except that they're stronger than usual and tend to hit in late November through the early part of the new year. The blustery conditions didn't dampen the spirits of the dinghy carolers, though, nor did they stop Santa Claus from going down the Marigot streets in a motor buggy. Ho-ho-ho! That's French, isn't it?

Ringing in 2008 became even more fun when we encountered some blasts from our pasts. First up: Astrid and Paul, our
Horizons
trawler pals, last seen in the Dominican Republic. They were finding it a pain in the butt to travel with their two dogs, so they planned to go to Guadeloupe and then turn around and head back to Florida.

Our second surprise was Dave and Booker on catamaran
Tortuguita
. We hadn't seen them since they helped us with our electrical problems in the Bahamas. Fellow vegetarians, we shared some pasta and yelled Happy New Year at one another.
Bonne Année
! (Okay, I'll stop).

Now what? By this time we had received our new stove, had resewn the sail we just had paid to have sewn (hrmph), and had everything else back where it needed to be. We had also seen the zoo (kind of fun), been to Orient Beach (where we kept our clothes on), and driven all around the island.

Here's a first: Every one of our closets and storage bins was full of groceries. St. Martin has the best grocery shopping north of Trinidad no matter what you eat, but especially if you're a vegetarian. Not even the U.S. stores can top St. Martin's Le Grande Marche or Cost-U-Less. They have every kind of soy product imaginable, Indian food, Thai food, organic food … I drool just thinking about it. Add wine, cheese, and warehouse-type deals on canned goods and we were tempted to move to that island just for the groceries.

We wanted to move on, but the Christmas winds were over 25 knots and seas were high, averaging about 10 feet (which meant that sometimes the waves were higher). Ug-ly! These conditions could go on for months, though, so we focused on
just the seas. You can compensate for high winds (loosen, reef, or drop your sails); you can't compensate for ugly seas.

We had learned over time that if the distance between waves (called the interval) is eight seconds or more (more is preferable) and the waves aren't coming from the wrong direction (directly at you), even 10-foot seas can be a piece of cake. The trip up and down a wave would take longer, but you just settled comfortably in a trough for 8 to 12 seconds and then started the trip up again. Our stomachs weren't thrilled, but it was doable.

As soon as an opportunity to escape presented itself, we headed for the southern Leeward Islands, more romantically known as the Islands That Brush the Clouds.
Au revoir
! (Oh come on, you have to give me that one.)

I'm not sure that anything broke outright, but a lot of things were wearing out. The boat was seven years old now and was starting to show its age. We felt pressured to take advantage of the plethora of marine stores and services.

We also appreciated the efficient postal service. The island being a duty-free zone meant lower prices. We were determined to get our to-fix list down to a single page and did, although it took two months and a lot of money spent on St. Martin to do it.

Aaaah, Saba. How could we deny ourselves those majestic black cliffs? Well, we couldn't. And we didn't.

We left a chilly, damp St. Martin at six in the morning for our 35-mile crossing and headed south for what we hoped was some peace and quiet—neither in great abundance on St. Martin. After five hours of motorsailing, that's exactly what we got. We were completely alone. Utopia.

Saba is steep-to (meaning really deep water surprisingly close to shore) so you have to pick up the moorings provided in Well's Bay and Ladder Bay, both on the northwestern side of the island, or Fort Bay, to the south. We ended up moored at Well's Bay. Friends who had recently visited Saba experienced the scare of their boating lifetime when their mooring detached from the seabed and sent their catamaran heading for the cliffs. Worse, they had been scuba diving when it happened (although they were able to save the boat). Moorers beware! All the mooring lines were frayed during our visit, too, but the seas were so calm that we took our chances and just grabbed one.

Years ago, we had hiked all over the island (there isn't a flat spot anywhere), so this visit was all about the snorkeling. There wasn't as much sea life as one would expect, but there were some fun rock formations, turtles, and schools of fish here and there. The unobstructed sunset was indescribable and the perfect way to detox from our whirlwind time on St. Martin.

Nothing! Even the mooring held. Hallelujah!

The next day would be a 25-mile (two-hour) motorsail south and then southeast to Statia, where we'd pick up a mooring in Oranje Baai, on the west side of the island. A quick look at the mooring contraption was reassuring; there was heavy chain all the way from the seabed to the ball. The thing looked as though it would hold us through a Category 5 hurricane. The harbor wasn't the most attractive anchorage, however, with its circular oil containers on the hills and the oil freighter brigade waiting to do its thing, but we weren't there for the anchorage. Although the island is known for its diving (lots of ancient shipwrecks), we were there for the hiking. We checked in and immediately got our park passes.

Onshore, the buildings oozed history. Slave huts were still on the beach looking as if they were waiting for their next victims. A long, steep cobblestone road took us to town, the same road the Africans had to climb after their grueling days at sea. When a local at the top saw us wilting about halfway up, he yelled at us to walk it backward. That helped, a little. Once in town we wouldn't have been surprised to see a buxom barmaid running past us at any moment chased by a stinky, horny pirate. Or was that a fantasy of mine? All I know is that the authenticity of the place gave me goose bumps. We kept waiting for a director to yell “Cut!”

Further exploration took us on a high road overlooking the harbor. Let's take a picture of
Jacumba
… and the two black-clad snorkelers swimming up to her mooring. Concerned, we stopped and watched, realizing that if someone boarded our boat it would take quite some time for us to get back there and remove them. We stifled our urge to run back to the dinghy dock while screaming “Booger off!” but we did walk at a brisk pace. We didn't start jogging until we watched the figures disappear under our boat, although we weren't screaming yet. While still on the hill, we saw our snoopers nonchalantly swim off. Well, that was weird.

Crisis averted, we found a quiet bar all to ourselves with a great view of the harbor, got a drink, and watched the sun set over
Jacumba
. While we lounged in pool chairs, we watched some familiar folks, clad in black, walking around on a charter catamaran. A catamaran facing in the opposite direction of every other boat in the harbor. Hmmm. Our friends then rearranged their mooring lines into the same configuration as ours and their boat was now turned in the right direction. Mystery solved. Someone actually learned from us. Wow!

Jeez, talk about paranoia. How could we know?

After a quiet night, we woke up refreshed and hit the trails at 8 a.m. We hiked every national park trail on and around the volcano (The Quill) until our legs threatened to give out. We even made our way to a botanical garden tucked in there somewhere. For those of you with snake phobias, be aware that there are red-bellied racer snakes on the trails, but they're harmless and happy to slither out of your way.

We spent only two days on Statia, figuring that it was too small as a possible home contender. We didn't take our usual drive around the whole island either, but decided that we would go back someday.