At One With Mother Nature Ep. 46

It is hard not to feel a little sense of competitiveness with your fellow Caribbean 1500 ralliers. After the rum punches and prizes were dispersed in Tortola last November, many boats like us hung out in the BVI’s for weeks – and gradually months. But a handful of more adventurous souls – in particular, one boat whimsically named ‘Over Margaritas’ for how the young couple had met and discussed their mutual sailing dreams – pointed their bows south for the 3-4 day voyage to the bottom of the Caribbean chain. On the morning SSB chat, these folks raved about places like the Grenadines for it’s isolated beauty and crystal clear waters. At one point, Karen and I had contemplated this same strategy whereby you sail to as far south as you dare and slowly make your way northward through the islands. But, how, I wondered, did these southern adventurers really know that the beauty they were experiencing was that much better then the tremendous sights we were taking in at places like St John, Jost van Dyke and Virgin Gorda? Afterall, they had skipped over those sights in their pursuit south. On what basis could they rightfully gloat about their seemingly advantageous setting? We now know!

We started off this week spending several days at a cluster of small, uninhabited islands called the Tobago Cays. What joys these islands brought! Like our ‘go south first’ comrades before us, we experienced the picturesque beauty of these islands and their stunningly clear underwater grottos with a vengence! It felt as close to paradise as one could desire. For you to best understand the Tobago Cays, I need to start you off with the striking layout of these islands. One of their great features, as shown below, is the shroud of reefs that protect them from the otherwise turbulent onset of the wind and waves from the east.

The Tobago Cays consist of five islands – Petit Rameau, Petit Bateau, Baradal, Jamesby and Petit Tabac. This last island, standing alone and enshrouded in palm trees, looked a lot like the site where Captain Jack Sparrow, from Pirates of Caribbean, was marooned! What do you think??

After moving the boat on the second day to a spot just in the lee of Baradal Island, and watching clearly the sight of the anchor dropping down in the water and resting on the seafloor, it didn’t take us long to find the desire to go snorkeling in these clear waters. We took the dinghy as far as we could into the horseshoe-shaped reef, dropped the hook, and dove overboard. What a surprise we had! The water was so clear it felt very much like snorkeling in the tank of your local aquarium. The water was only 6-8 feet deep, so holding your breath and diving to the seafloor presented no special challenges. And, when you got down below the surface, it was a treat to look horizontally and see, in 360 degrees, a world of kaleidoscope colors surrounding you. It also gave you the advantage of looking forward far enough to spot special fishes before they could notice your presence.

We had some pretty special snorkeling experiences in the BVI’s – with Norman Island being one of the highlights – but try as we might, we hadn’t seen anything that would top it since we left. But these Tobago Cays were a frontrunner in the ‘Best Snorkeling Site’ category of our trip. I have countless memories of diving under the sea surface and drifting with the current, being at one with these diverse tropical fish and coral beds. The noise of the surface wavelets disappear once you dive below and it allows your other senses to take over. Spending time on top and under the water was becoming second nature now for the whole family; for me, it was as if I was becoming a integral part of the natural environment all around us. The boundaries between life on top and underneath were dissolving quickly. Back in high school, when I ventured to the top of Mammoth Mountain in the California Sierras to overcome my fears of skiing down the chutes, and for the first time crossed that line between shear fear and being ‘in the groove’, making comfortable, effortless turns in the powder, I had the same feeling of being at one with Mother Nature. Every movement of my legs had become second nature and it seemed like the mountain trails were enfolding in front of me for my own selfish joy. The experience of swimming in these warm, turquoise waters has allowed me to cross that line again.

But, not all of our joys this past week came from the water. We hiked to the top of Baradal Island to take in the ever increasing windswept views of the reef which we had been snorkeling behind. This was the stuff of charter company marketing brochures, and we were soaking it all up – a healthy reminder of how lucky we were to be here and now.

And, while I can’t speak for our boys, I think you can safely say that they are feeling this weighty connection to nature a little bit more each day. I certainly enjoyed my childhood, but as I look at these pictures, I would have given anything to be in their shoes, at this formative time in their lives.

Despite the grandeur of the Tobago Cays, we decided to push on to other nearby islands; my brother and niece had just made plans to come join us next week, and we knew that they would enjoy seeing Tobago Cays. We made a brief stop at an island called Petite Martinique to take on as much water as they would give us and to top off our diesel. We had been living off of that delicious water from Dominica and we were on our last tankful. Every time I had sipped that clear, pure water, it was like laying down on my lips a chance kiss from a summer love. With trepidation, we commingled the kiss of Dominica with water from Petite Martinique, hoping for other sensations to keep Dominica fresh in our minds.

As we prepared to push off from the fuel dock at Petite Martinique, an English-speaking family with three young girls about the age of our boys appeared and offered to help with our lines. The wind was strong and we were being pressed strongly against the questionable wooden planks of the dock. We were faced into the beach, and the forward depthsounder was only reading 1.5 feet under the keel, as we tossed in the wind-whipped waves. Needless to say, I was anxious to get Thalia off of the dock and spare myself the worrying of whether I could do it without scraping her hull as we backed out. It was a hasty decision that I later regretted. First of all, I was holding on to one of the dock lines while Karen started to uncleat it at the dock. Unfortunately, while I held it and she loosened, and the boat surged forward on a wave, one of her fingers got caught between the line and the cleat and was pinched, causing her immearsurable amounts of pain. Moments later, though, she struck up a conversation with the mother of the family. But, in my frantic desire to get off the dock, and seeing fewer and fewer docklines holding us square to the dock, I pushed to cast off as quick as possible. From the silence that lingered later, I had to assume everyone was a little bit miffed with me, wondering why we couldn’t stay at the dock a moment longer to meet this family. I know that Karen latches on to any chance of ‘girl’ talk, as she spends a year with us three ‘boys’! And the kids, having no one else to play with except Karen and I, long for any opportunity to talk or play with other kids, despite gender or age differences. I had to watch my actions over the next few days, otherwise I might have a muntinous crew on my hands!

Our stop for the night ended up being a small spit of land called Sandy Island that was part of the bigger island of Carriacou. Carriacou is officially part of Grenada, even though the main island of Grenada is some 15 miles further south. We knew that in a short time we would be turning around and heading northward, marking this area of the Caribbean as our most southerly destination. While Grenada itself was too far for us to go, we at least could say that we had been there by setting foot at Carriacou!

Sandy Island was only a couple of football fields long, and a short stone’s throw wide. Made up almost entirely of sand, and having been battered by Hurricane Lenny, the Carriacou people were concerned that it might just wash away in the next big storm. They had planted several baby palms and other shrubbery – plants that were struggling to make an existence when we stepped ashore. While strolling the island, I noticed a fair number of old plastic bottles and other human-generated detritus, and I suggested to the boys that we make this island our ‘community service project’! We each grabbed a trash bag and started picking up every manner of garbage. The bags rapidly filled up, and we went back for more bags. Especially on the windward side of the island, Zack and I picked up an annoyingly large quantity of those plastic drink containers that water and soda come in, closely followed by a large quantity of those square shaped styrofoam restaurant take home containers. Here’s the loot!

Disposing of six bags of garbage proved to be a bit of a challenge. One ‘boat boy’ came by offering half his normal price per bag to carry it away. However, we had been warned not to accept these offers; many times, they just throw it in the bushes back ashore. The next morning, we motored over to Tyrell Bay, as we had heard there were some streets with shops to stroll through; after our isolation on the Tobago Cays and Sandy Island, we needed to see some civilization again. Another rally boat we had spoken with last week recommended Tyrell Bay – but Zachary wittingly dubbed it Dead Bay. The harbor, although it held at least 30 boats, showed no visible signs of life. A small haulout facility ashore posted, ironically, a big sign that said they did not accept trash from yachts! Our six bags had to be lugged up the steepest driveway that could humanly be built, to get to the main road and a small dumpster. To our dismay, the streets and yards were spectacled with styrofoam, paper, empty beer bottles and the ever-present single-use plastic water and soda bottles – chug it down in 60 seconds and cast it out the window for an eternity of environmental harm. I quickly deduced how we were able to collect so much garbage on Sandy Island, downwind from these trash-infused streets.

Our youngest and I did find a souvenir shop and stopped for a t-shirt and a soda (in a returnable glass bottle, just so you know!), but this town held no special attraction. Even though it was a Monday, there were plenty of people walking around the streets, acting idle enough to make you eye them carefully and think – how much money am I carrying, where’s the camera and who would come to my rescue if I yelled for help? What frustrated me the most was the seemingly lost pride these villagers had for their island. It didn’t take us more than an hour to clean up Sandy Island. If 10 of these idlers were to comb the streets for a few days, they’d have a town devoid of garbage and perhaps that might be the motivation to keep it clean. As it was, I’m sure no one thought twice about tossing their garbage on to the side of the road or empty lot when it was already littered. If we had stayed longer, perhaps we would get a better understanding of why this island was in such a sorry state. If we had traveled to the main island of Grenada, we might have made a better comparison of lifestyles, culture and government involvement, if any, in this land of excess litter. I don’t want you, dear reader, to assume that I am some insensitive, wealthy American tourist casting a quick judgment on these islands. I realize the state of poverty they are in, but I also witnessed a lot of people hanging around the towns – day and night, weekdays and weekends – doing not a whole lot. Someone needs to show some leadership, and some pride, and take this potential workforce and make something of Carriacou. It was a depressing let down from the Tobago Cays. I began to agree with Zack’s Dead Bay marquee as a befitting label.

Before nightfall, we gave up on Tyrell Bay and motored a short 5 mile distance to the main harbor on Carraicou, Hillsborough. There was a bit more life onshore here, serving the ferries that landed at the town pier, but I don’t think any of us wanted to make the effort to go ashore and risk a repeat of Tyrell Bay. Instead, after schoolwork was done, we set sail for Union Island and back into the country of St Vincent and the Grenadines. Union Island has a charming little village and a small airport which is how the non-boaters found their way, often on a short day trips, to the island. This was a day for running errands – buying food, finding an internet cafe, and the like – so when 5 o’clock came, it seemed very appropriate to dinghy over to a small hut, built up from discarded conch shells on the reef. This spot, called ‘Happy Island’, was self-contained, with solar power providing the energy to keep the beers cold and the music blasting. We are not sure how they gained approval to build on top of a coral reef, but supposedly the owner used to work in the government.

After a day at Union Island, it was time to get back to Bequia, where we had a shop building us a new, bigger bimini. We wanted to get this finished and installed before my brother Todd and his daughter Julia showed up. On the way back into the harbor at Bequia, we passed these homes built into the steep cliffs.

The community is called Moonhole. The above house was the original one built, but it was abandoned when a large boulder fell from the ceiling and crushed an empty bed. Yikes! Today, there are similarly designed homes on the upper reaches of the cliffs, not easily accessible from either land or sea. So if you want to become a hermit in the Caribbean, this spot should be on your top 10 list!

Back in Bequia, we got working on the new bimini. The sail loft ashore had been working on it over the past week and came onboard to assemble the new frame and canvas. Our old bimini was starting to get threadbare and had always bothered Karen and I for it’s small size and therefore lack of shade – something you need alot of here in the tropics. Here we all are working on the assembly.

It looked great when it was all done. The frame extended right out to the edge of the lifelines, and forward to just behind the boom. We now had a spacious, shaded cockpit to lounge in! Alas, it was not meant to be though. That night, it rained very heavy and at about 4am, we heard a sudden splash of water, followed by a retort from Zack “Ahh, guys, the bimini has collapsed!” In shock, we looked into the cockpit to see the front bow of the frame completely folded in half and laying in the cockpit. The water must have started to pool on top and the frame finally buckled under the weight. There would be no bimini for Todd and Julia’s visit, but the sail loft owner was considerate and took the whole bundle back to their shop to put more curvature in the design and therefore shed the water. We will return in a week and hopefully have it solved. It didn’t take long for the kids to remark how we were on our third rudder, our third digital camera and soon our third bimini!

We will sail down today to Canouan Island to pick up Todd and Julia, and show them some of the special sites of the Grenadines, and see if we can get them to be touched by Mother Nature as well!

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