A sea change

We try hard to make these emails fun, informative and honest.
(Actually, it is nearly effortless, and we hope you don't believe
the part about it being honest.)

The sailing we had from Carriacou to Martinique was the best
we have had for seven years, and every time we got word about
the winter back home we were reminded how happy we were in the
Windwards in lovely, clear water and not back in the cold, snow,
sleet, rain and worse.

We anchored in lovely bays that seven years ago were about to
become large resorts, but they were still pristine anchorages:
the GFC (global financial crisis) had halted the development
projects. So locals built a beach bar or two and now there are
amenities without blight. Probably more revenue for the locals,
as well.

We went back to Bequia, and were once again entranced by the
friendliness of the people there. We visited a few we had known
before and got brought up to date on six years of happenings
(not a word of gossip in the update, mind).

The Bequians are doing okay in the water crisis (there is not
enough rain anywhere in the Windwards) but the Vincentians and
St. Lucians are not because they've never had to worry about
it before. Doris's husband closed his restaurant, so she has
expanded her grocery into it and now even has room for prices
on things. (Doris has the most complete grocery north of Trinidad
and south of Martinique). Lovely to catch up with an island we
care about.

We had to give the Tobago Cays a miss because our holding tank
gave way. This meant the head that goes there cannot be used
until the tank is replaced in Trini. The Cays are a Marine Park
and all waste must be contained. Oh, well, next year.

It only took a long afternoon to sponge up the spillage. Make
that a very long afternoon.

Because it was our goal this year to confront no traumas, we
planned our trip to St. Lucia for the minimum hassle. We would
sail directly to Marigot Bay, take a mooring there, eat at a
restaurant we've been hoping to try for seven years, and sail
directly to Martinique. The food at Chateau Mygo was delicious,
and worth the wait.

The sail to MQ was delightful. Although hard on the wind, the
water was flat and we flew up to MQ to anchor off St. Anne's,
a restful small town with a broad shelf of anchorage off it.

In the past, this had been the site of a large community of English-speaking
boats who were organized for dominoes, boules, happy hours and
just the kind of fun we like in the cruising world. We were expecting
to stay there for the month of March, with a week in the marina
of Marin to reprovision and recharge our batteries (literally).

This is where things start falling apart.

Alas, the Anglophone sailing community of St. Anne's is no more.
The rise in the euro and the mayor's dislike of the cruisers,
caused the community to disband and go elsewhere. It seems the
mayor was voted out (the locals liked the cruisers, who brought
revenue to the town) but the euro did remain a problem. Since
there were very few people to play with, and the anchorage was
getting rolly with swells, we decided to go around to Marin and
see about a space on the dock for a week with 110V power.

With the promise that we could come in on Saturday evening and
stay for one week only, we went to visit our friends on Wynona
II. Hadn't seen them since 2003 as well. Good to renew friendship
and get the story on St. Anne's community with the promise of
being on the dock near them soon, since they are on the only
working 110 volt transformer the marina has.

Leaving their boat from the bow pulpit, Laurie missed her footing
and went straight into the drink.
This was not the problem it could have been, as she missed breaking
her neck or back by landing on the ropes or dock, and didn't
even lose her contacts. However, the crack she gave her ribs
and breast have taken quite a while to feel better.

Friday came, and so came we. No power. Another American boat
was on the other main socket and seemed to be drawing too many
amps for the 30 amp circuit. A marginal solution was found. A
week on intermittent electrical power would only partially equalize
our batteries, but it would probably do the trick.

By Thursday, we were ready to rent a car and reprovision. The
goal was to load enough wine onto the boat to get us back to
Trinidad and then next year back to MQ. We do not actually like
rum, which is the only truly cheap liquor in the Caribbean. Horizons
can hold seven cases of wine, so there is enough storage.

Then almost disaster struck. Losing his footing after putting
the first load on the boat, Jack also fell, although prevented
himself from falling in by maintaining his grip on to the stern
pulpit rail. At the end of the fall there was a sudden strain
on the shoulder, sort of like at a hanging. He heard what he
described as the sound of a Really Big Knuckle Crack, since his
shoulder was right next to his ear at that moment. He recovered
his footing and took inventory—almost certainly a sprain and
not a break or a tear—and got back on the dock.

He reassured the people who had come from nearby in response
to his "Oh my goodness gracious, I may have hurt my arm" (or
words to that effect).

By then Jack had decided that rest and anti-inflammatories would
suffice for treatment. The bruises that surfaced the next day
are truly impressive in their coloring. Laurie has even been
sympathetic, since her own healing has taken time. The marina
has been very gracious, and we have been staying on, one day
at a time, for four days now. The amp-sucking American boat has
left, and we have been hard-wired into a transformer that works.
The batteries are fully restored. Jack's shoulder should be recovered
sufficiently to go out on anchor soon, and then sail back to
Bequia for the Easter Regatta.

So, this time, for the first time in a long time, most of our
problems have not been Horizons's, but our own.