Pictures from Dartmouth

Two long bridges cross Halifax Harbour between the Halifax and Dartmouth sides. This one is the McDonald Bridge, which lies closer to the harbour mouth. From it you can look down on the dockyards and the marina we were moored at from September to November.






The gulls eat well by the waterfront. Sea urchins, crabs, mussels which cling to the marina floats and rocks - we can see what they eat because they use the flat surfaces of the marina docks as a convenient place to rest their food on. And of course they don't clean up after themselves...






In October the weather grew cooler, though still not cold, and the leaves began to turn, warning us that this year we were going to see winter come.







There are little bits of history scattered along the Dartmouth waterfront, and stopping to look and read you learn many interesting stories. This elegant and broken propeller is from the Canadian Coast Guard Ship John A. MacDonald. It was damaged by ice while the vessel was assisting the oil tanker SS Manhattan in her historic crossing of the Northwest Passage in 1969. There are several tales wrapped up in there for those who care to pursue them.


For us, this is the heart of Halifax and Dartmouth - the harbour, with all its boats and ships and the businesses that surround them. Part of the dockyard lies across from this marina. We were lucky enough to be able to move in to an empty slip here in October, and Into The Blue found shelter here during NorEaster Noel.

Fall in Halifax/Dartmouth

The coming of September meant time to get ready to leave Into The Blue while we travelled to Toronto for the wedding of one of our daughters. We investigated different possibilities, and finally decided to leave our nice quiet anchorage and move over to Alderney Marina off the main harbour, on the Dartmouth side. We had found a very solid and relatively inexpensive mooring owned by the marina that we felt we could comfortably leave the boat on while we travelled. Once there we found our new spot was also conveniently close to a large library with internet access, the weekly farmers’ market, and a grocery and several other stores. Back from the wedding we decided to stay on where we were after September. There were interesting times - when the wind blew from the southern quadrant there was little shelter for our mooring. There were days when going out to the boat was a challenge, days when the wind blew up the harbour and created a large swell that made the boat look as if she was sailing into the waves. Luckily those days were few, and the wind almost always died at night.

As September became October and then November the weather became more unsettled and cooler. We spent much of October looking for an apartment to spend the winter months in. We had taken a hard look at our insulation and heating, and our lack of one and deficiencies in the other made it clear that wintering on the boat was not a good option. Winter, after all, was not in our original plans when we outfitted the boat, just the possibility of cool days and cooler nights. And cleaning condensation off the inside of the boat morning and night is not much fun. Then towards the middle of October we were given the chance to move into a spot at the marina vacated by a boat which had been taken out of the water. We took it happily, since it meant we could enjoy the shelter of the breakwater, the unaccustomed convenience of quick access to boat and land, and move off the boat much more easily. We walked around Dartmouth looking at apartments until we found the small one we are living in now , signed a seven month lease and moved in toward the end of the month. That turned out to be a little bit before NorEaster Noel blew into town.

The good thing about small apartments is that it doesn’t take much to fill them and make them look comfortably lived-in. Ours is furnished with donated, lent and cheaply acquired furniture, thanks to friends made after we arrived here and the local internet marketplace. And somehow the bits go together well enough not to look jarring. And, a real bonus, there is a large cupboard in the apartment which can be stuffed with boat bits - all those things which could not be left on board to freeze or get mouldy. There are lots of them, as we found out going through our lockers. The friend who helped us move (on, of course, a rainy, blustery day) was astonished that so much could come out of a boat so small.

It’s a quiet neighbourhood we’re in now, particularly at night and even more particularly on a night that is cold and wintery. The apartment building sits near the top of a hill looking down toward The Narrows between Halifax Harbour and Bedford Basin. There are no large highways nearby, no hum of city traffic. Two buses run past, from which we can transfer to others which will take us just about anywhere we want to go. There is a grocery store nearby, a small library and community centre down the road. We settled in quickly.

Then NorEaster Noel blew through. The afternoon before the storm arrived we took down all canvas, tied off ropes, took everything off the outside of the boat that could come off and tied down anything that could not, then doubled up most of the ropes as well as tying off the stern to a ring on the main dock, to try to hold the boat off the finger she was lying beside. We were not alone while we worked - other people were on their boats doing the same thing, some moving their boats into safer slips more sheltered by the breakwater. The evening came cold and still. We had done everything we could; now we could only wait and hope. We took what comfort we could from the thought that little damage had been done to boats in the marina during Hurricane Juan.

At the apartment we filled containers with water, cooked up some food in the pressure cooker and made sure our flashlights were in good working order. Our apartment is very sheltered so it was difficult to gauge what was happening outside, but that day there were times when the wind rattled our windows. We spent the day of the storm watching it’s progress on the weather channel (we enjoyed free cable for a month), checking our sources on the internet and listening to the radio - we were lucky that our power stayed on. We heard of some people who stayed on their boats in different harbours - all were fine; we heard that the waves in Halifax Harbour reached thirty-four feet high - higher than our boat is long; towards the end we heard of a few boats washed up on rocks or on to the shore in different places. We had decided ahead of time not to brave the weather and go down to the marina. There seemed little point, since as the storm progressed the waves and surge would make it too dangerous to try to reach the boat even if we saw anything happening. That was our home out there - we had done our best to prepare her, but it was a nervous day and night.

The next morning with the wind dropping Richard went down to the marina to see what had happened. The main docks are held in place by poles anchored into the seabed. Chains around the poles allow the docks to rise and fall with the tide. The marks from the chains showed that the surge had lifted the docks almost to the full height of the anchoring poles, and one dock had stuck at that height and was sitting at an angle, but apart from that there was little damage. All the boats in the marina had come through with little or no damage, and for us the only memento was some scratched paint where a fender had exploded and the boat had rubbed against the dock for a short while. We could breathe again.

Winter since has been a succession of more or less breezy days. The people who assured us that winter in Halifax did not see much snow, and what there was did not stay for long have been proved wrong so far this year. With La Nina dominating the weather patterns, Environment Canada is predicting the snowiest, coldest winter in the past fifteen years and the current forecast predicts the arrival of another NorEaster in the next few days. We sure know how to pick ’em!

Still, winter aside, this is a good place to be ashore in. There is work, people are friendly, there is lots happening and apartment rents are generally reasonable. And we are never far from parks and wilderness areas. Dartmouth has been nicknamed “City of Lakes” because of the number of lakes within its borders. Our apartment is a short walk from Albro Lake - it is covered now with snow and thin ice, but underneath the snow is a beach you can swim from on a warm summer day. And another short walk away is a monument to the Halifax Explosion of 1917, a piece of one of the ships that blew up in what was one of the most deadly explosions ever, a reminder of a difficult part of the city’s history. Other historic monuments and plaques are scattered through the city, giving a sense of the history of the area and the pride people take in it.

And now Christmas is approaching, and it will certainly be a white one. The snow that’s here shows no signs of disappearing any tiime soon. We’ll enjoy Christmas in the snowy north this year and look forward to having a green one next year. And we’ll let you know how it all goes.

Some Pictures from Halifax

Looking from Deadman's Island toward the Armdale Yacht Club. At the base of the big, old tree is the memorial to the American soldiers killed in the War of 1812 - past and present blending.Looking from Deadman's Island toward the Armdale Yacht Club. At the base of the big, old tree is the memorial to the American soldiers killed in the War of 1812 - past and present blending.





Looking down the North West Arm toward the Halifax Harbour entrance, with the fog lifting and a clear day on the way.











The Tall Ships visiting in Halifax Harbour - This figurehead looks calmly over visitors and work in progress (everybody has to do maintenance!).











Time to do some sail repairs on one of the tall ships, perched out on the bowsprit, glue gun in hand.













Neither fog nor rain nor wind deters them from their appointed race - members of the Armdale Yacht Club race off into the fog.











A sunny summer day by the Arm - as you can see, not everybody bothers with docks, especially when the shore is easier to row to. The dinghy was securely tied to a rock so that it would not float away when the tide came back up.









A day after clouds of flying ants suddenly descended on the boats, the ducks were still feasting happily. We could hear them eating away.

Anchored in Halifax for Summer, 2007

From Miami to Halifax

The voyage from Miami to Halifax was unusual for us. Instead of being miles away from the coast and far from most marine traffic we saw other vessels every day. There were fishing boats of all sizes and types, large and small container ships, cruise ships, trawlers, other sailboats - we were rarely alone for long. That kept us alert, and meant watches were busy - and even busier on days when the fog descended and keeping an eye on the radar and an ear to the wind was added to the mix. Though not too busy to enjoy seeing dolphins and birds - and, for the first time, whales.

As we got closer to Halifax the water and the weather grew colder. A week before we arrived we began to run our fireplace at night, to help us stay warm. We slept snuggled under layers of coverings, and on the coldest nights went to bed with a toque on to keep us warmer. Being able to pull it down over our eyes when a watch ran into daylight hours helped too! Sunshiny days warmed our bones; foggy ones were cool even though it was the warmer winds out of the south west that brought them. Sometimes the fog was so thick we could not see even nearby fishing boats, only hear them on the radio as they worked and watch for them on the radar. Occasionally we would catch a glimpse through the fog of one passing off our stern. Sometimes the fog was deceptive, closing our horizon down even though the area around us looked clear.

The trip took about eighteen days. We sailed in and out of the edge of the Gulf Stream depending which direction the wind blew from, with Herb of Southbound II to help guide us. Along the way we encountered mostly light winds, some moderate breezes, the occasional day or night of heavier wind and only one thunderstorm off the Carolinas. Though we did see lightning crackling on the horizon behind us after we passed the northern end of the Gulf Stream before it turned to run east. Most of the time we sailed comfortably with the wind behind us or on a beam reach - the day or two the wind was against us it was light. We enjoyed our best sailing of the trip coming into Halifax Harbour, flying along with the wind on our beam at 15 to 18 knots, watching for large ships moving in or out as we crossed the shipping lane and moving quickly toward a quiet place to anchor and check in. We were back in Canada after almost two years of traveling.

Halifax

By the time we arrived in Halifax we had already decided, after consulting our charts and Reed’s East Coast Nautical Almanac, to anchor up the North West Arm away from the traffic of the main harbour. It lies south of the harbour so we are not sure why it is called the North West Arm, except that it runs generally North West. It is a longish, narrow body of water which offers good shelter in most conditions so long as you can find a suitable place to anchor. This would be easier if much of the bottom were not a mixture of rock and mud with a healthy growth of weeds. Much of the area outside the channel is taken up by moorings, some belonging to individuals and some belonging to different marinas and clubs, but we did manage to find a good spot outside the Armdale Yacht Club to drop our hook. Members and staff were friendly and helpful, and we found ourselves close to public docks and access to stores and downtown - and in very convenient spot to enjoy watching their racing and regattas. We settled in for what was left of summer.

Halifax turned out to be a busy place. We arrived at about the same time as the Tall Ships. Shortly afterward the boats sailing in the race between Marblehead and Halifax began turning up. Many arrived in fog and had to be guided through the busy harbour to their berths by Halifax Harbour Radio and the Coast Guard. So we spent our first weekend in Halifax exploring Halifax Harbour and looking at the Tall Ships gathered at the docks and wharves there. They came in many different sizes, kinds and conditions and visitors flocked around and onto them curious about their origins, their journeys and how they worked. We saw the Roseway, last seen in St. Croix, and the Picton Castle, last seen in Bermuda in Spring 2006 and now black instead of white after her work on the TV show Pirate Master. There was a training schooner from Toronto, the Playfair, a little more rough than the others; and of course the beautiful Bluenose II. Along with other tall ships from the United States, Europe and the Caribbean. And sitting at a dock in the middle of all the crowds, the beautiful classic racing yacht Ticonderoga.

After that the Jazz Festival started the following weekend, and ran for ten days. There were local, national and international performers and all kinds of performances at different prices - including free afternoon shows which we thoroughly enjoyed. We particularly enjoyed Asia and Nu Groove, and unfortunately missed listening to Doug Riley and Tonic. Then there was the Buskers Festival, then Natal Day, the annual celebration of the birthday of the communities of Halifax and Dartmouth. More free concerts and performances to enjoy. By the end of August we were just about festivaled out, but happily there were lots of other things to do.

We explored downtown Halifax and found our way to the Khyber Centre for the Arts, and a show that moved beyond the level of simply presenting art. “Panzos, 25 years later” uses photography, paintings and the written word to tell the story of a small town in Guatemala and what happened there when the interests of its inhabitants ran contrary to those of the Canadian mining company, Inco. The artist, Marlón García Arriaga, a schoolboy at the time of the Panzos massacre, describes the development of his work this way: “In October of 1997 I participated as a forensic photographer in the exhumation of the victims of the Panzós massacre. They were found in a mass grave where their bodies had been cast indiscriminately. This was how I had the opportunity to participate in filling the vacuum present in the lives of Guatemalans despite 19 years of investigations into the events at Panzós. It was with my feet inside of this grave, alongside the women of FAMDEGUA (Association of Relatives of the Disappeared and Detained of Guatemala), that I made the decision to create an outline for an exposition that would include my photos, paintings inspired by such moments, the testimony of survivors, newspaper clippings from the time of the war, photos from historical archives, and testimonies of intellectuals and activists who had confronted the power of the Guatemalan state and its involvement with the Canadian mining company. The purpose of all this was to further illuminate and understand who I am and what had taken place in my country.” Beautifully painted and effectively presented, this was a show which made us think about another, uglier world.( (Link to more information))

And so we spent the summer exploring Halifax, enjoying places like the Public Gardens, the waterfront, some of the beautiful older buildings we came across on our walks. We passed the Commons, full of activity by day, with its playgrounds and skateboard park and ball diamonds. We learned a little about the area’s history, rich and storied. We learned, for instance, that the Armdale Yacht Club stands on an island with a historic past. The island has been a prisoner of war camp, a reception point for recruits to the British Foreign Legion, a hospital for immigrants suffering from Typhus Fever, a refuge for former black slaves fleeing the United States, and a navy prison and its clubhouse was once the home of the warden of a Military Prison. Close by is Deadman’s Island, not really an island but a point of land. The bodies of some who perished during their time on Melville Island are buried there and United States Marines help maintain it now in memory of those who were American prisoners of war from the war of 1812. Looking south east along the shore we could see the Dingle Tower in Sir Sandford Fleming Park, constructed to commemorate the 150th anniversary of the establishment of representative government in Nova Scotia - the first colony outside the U.K. to have this form of government. The tower was completed and dedicated in 1912.

In the present there were some practical things to be attended to. Richard started working shortly after we arrived, and early in the morning, sometimes at first light, we would take the dinghy across to drop him at one of the docks. Whenever the wind blew from the south west the fog would start to roll up the Arm and on a foggy morning I learned to steer using nearby boats and mooring buoys as waypoints until I could see the dock, and to find my way back the same way. We were forewarned when we would wake to the blare of ships’ horns as they made their way into the fogbound harbour. These kinds of conditions rarely lasted more than a morning, though we did get some very nice pictures of the Armdale boats racing off into the fog on a race evening.

Summer passed quickly , cooler than we are used to, and very green. We found wild flowers growing along the sides of many of the roads as we walked, and an abundance of bees and wasps and butterflies around them. We saw ducks, gulls, cormorants and the occasional loon and seal. Every now and again a cormorant would exit the water at speed, and a seal would pop up behind... The air smelled of trees and flowers over on the Arm, and not of automobiles and dust and factories. Not that the latter are not around - just that they are not, or not yet, overwhelming. We found many people who were kind, helpful and friendly, and a sense that the problems the community encounters should be faced together.

Pictures, Miami in 2007

When the winds blew out of the west the air was filled with haze and smoke. This created some strange and beautiful effects, especially as the sun was going down. This picture is taken from our boat anchored in Biscayne Bay looking toward Miami.






Morning sun lights the skyline of Miami as seen from Key Biscayne.













Coming in to Crandon Park Marina on a hazy, smoky morning with the sun trying to shine through.
















The sun goes down, flaring through the clouds behind one of the points protecting Hurricane Harbor.









Some birds will land anywhere - here we have an unexpected visitor while anchored in No Name Harbor.











Another smoky sunset, this time as seen from No Name Harbor.

To Miami

From St. Croix to Miami

We set off for Miami on April 6th with at least three days of good weather in the forecast and the wind behind us. Our trip through the more northern Virgin Islands was fast, the only challenge being the heavy traffic between the islands - ferries, charter boat, sailboats, work boats, small freighters. By our second day out we had sailed into windless patches and a squall. Over the next few days we practised all our light wind sailing techniques: using the drifter, motor sailing when there was not enough wind even for that (and we needed to charge our batteries) and poling out the jib -the wind stayed behind us. Then there were more days when light winds mixed with squalls - nothing like sitting there watching the weather come. Our plan was to follow a route which would take us past the Bahamas on their northern side, and then go south and cross the Gulf Stream. Then we started to hear Herb on Southbound II talk about heavy weather developing north of us and in the area we were planning to sail through, and we had had enough of squalls already...

And so we changed our route - our consensus was that a more southern route over the Bahamas banks and through the islands would be a wiser and certainly more comfortable choice. We approached the islands from the East sailing toward the Dotham Cut, which we chose because it offers an easy passage between islands to the Bank side. We were still some distance away from the cut, off Cat Island when we had what started off as an odd encounter. When we need to asses whether a boat is on a possible collision course with us we take a series of bearings on it. But this time we could not do that, because the boat kept weaving as it approached. We were beginning to feel a little apprehensive when we were hailed and realised, to our relief, that it was a US Coast Guard cutter. They were boarding boats in the area, and we were one of the elected. So there followed a very professional boarding by a party which included personnel from the US Coast Guard and the Bahamas Defence Force. They checked our papers and our equipment and we shared a little conversation - an unexpected and in the end pleasant diversion after eight days out. Then we went our way, and they continued on theirs. We heard them on the radio hailing other boats in the area...

The next day we sailed through the cut, with our engine on for extra power. Our new route took us across the banks and Tongue of the Ocean in increasing winds. The sail across Tongue of the Ocean was rather bumpy and uncomfortable, but much less so than it would have been further north. We were glad when we were travelling over the bank again through calmer seas, and the timing for approaching the cut through which we would leave the Bahamas worked out well.

We planned to make our exit from the Bahamas through a cut north of Cat Cay which the chart showed was wide enough and deep enough for our boat, and straight. With our engine going it should have been an easy exit to the ocean. The was only one flaw in the plan - our engine decided not to start, and with no time and place to turn back our safest option was to keep going and sail through. There were a few tense moments, but with a good wind to help us and Richard working the helm we were quickly and safely through. After that we had an exciting ride across and through the Gulf Stream with the wind rising and changing direction (at one point we suddenly found ourselves going north instead of south), and finally arrived in Miami twelve days after we set off. We tacked up the Biscayne Channel and sailed into No Name Harbor, attracting some attention when we dropped anchor under sail. This was one of those times we were glad we already knew the area! We stayed there while we checked in and sorted out our difficulty with the engine. In a couple of days we had it running again with help from a friend we were happy to find anchored there, and then we started into our usual routine of alternating anchoring and mooring, depending on what we needed to do. Thanks for all your help, Ken, and if you really have swallowed the anchor we hope you have found a comfortable place to make your home ashore.

In Miami

When cruising, you’re never sure when you will get to the next place. Once you get there you don’t really know how long you are going to stay - even if you think you do. Plans are always altered by whatever is happening with and around you. In the end we spent two months in Miami, visiting with family and doing the usual round of boat maintenance. This time there was a lot to do, including oiling and cleaning and re-arranging and putting stitches in and patches on various bits of our sails - sailing day after day tends to wear them out. Then there was the saga of trying to get our radio fixed. In the end we had to give up on that, since even after we had packaged it up and sent it off to one of the only two authorised repair centres run by the manufacturer it could not be fixed. In fact it ended up in a worse state than when we had sent it. And meantime time passed...

Florida in May and June was going through interesting times. On the surface all looked well. There was more tree cover and fewer signs of the hurricane damage that had been a noticeable part of the landscape on previous visits, so we saw a greener city. Trees looked bigger and healthier in the park around No Name Harbor and in Hurricane Harbor we were surrounded by well maintained lawns and gardens. There were birds everywhere and iguanas and lizards in abundance, and we saw manatees swimming through the mooring area of a marina which was Into The Blue’s weekend home.

But we soon found that winds blowing out of the west across Biscayne Bay were laden with ash from numerous wild fires. Before we left Lake Okechobee had gone down to its lowest level since records of its height were kept; in June there was a fire on part of the exposed lake bottom which burned organic matter left behind as the lake dried. The drought was taking its toll on farmers and businesses in mid-Florida, and people even talked about the rain a hurricane would bring. The ash in the air left a sooty residue on the boat and filtered the rays of the sun, creating strange atmospheric effects.

Before we left the summer thunderstorms had started. Almost every afternoon the skies would cloud over and there would be the snap and crackle of lightning and the rumble of thunder, sometimes very close by. Because it is so flat, we could see the storms coming across Biscayne Bay or over the land. One afternoon things got interesting as No Name Harbor suddenly filled with powerboats trying to tie up or anchor as a squall went sweeping through. If ever a cruiser needs encouragement to leave Florida thunderstorms like these will certainly help. We took the hint, thought about the quickly approaching hurricane season, and finished getting ourselves ready to leave so we could set sail as soon as the next good weather window appeared. We set off for Halifax, Nova Scotia shortly after the middle of June.

Looking off the north shore of St. Croix toward Buck Island, a park area much enjoyed by divers.














St. Croix is one of the few places we have been which has had the foresight to guarantee public access to the island's beaches. We were introduced to Carambola Beach, nestled between hills and reached through one of the resorts, on an overcast windy day.









Here we stand at the Eastern most end of the island, thanks to our friends Lynne and Dave on Kittywake.












The schooner Roseway worked hard, taking school children and sometimes other groups out for a few hours of sailing. We would hear visitors aboard and crew as they raised the sails going down the channel - "Heave!" "Ho!", call and response setting the rhythm for hauling on the lines. Here she is returning as the sun sets behind the hills around Christiansted.







The old Customs House on the waterfront welcomed those coming to pay their dues with a graceful stairway and pleasant exterior - perhaps that made the task less painful?










An abandoned windmill sits by the boardwalk in Christiansted, overlooking the many dinghies tied up along the waterfront while their owners are busy ashore. Number of dinghies aside, things feel quieter here than in St. Maarten, more relaxed.

St. Croix, USVI

Sint Maarten is far enough from St. Croix to make the trip an overnight sail, so we set off on a mid-March thursday morning hoping to arrive in St. Croix with the sun the next day. We were picking up NOAA forecasts on our SSB (we could listen even though we could not transmit) and conditions sounded good for a brisk but comfortable trip. As it turned out we should have kept in mind how many times winds forecast by NOAA were lower than the winds we sailed through. That night they touched thirty knots and we spent some time hove to; conditions were rough for a while and sleep was not high on the priority list. Daylight found us sailing briskly again, and then the wind became lighter and blew from behind. It was approaching evening by the time we came past Buck Island off the north shore of St. Croix on our way to the harbour at Christiansted. Reefs and multiple channels meant that we had to pay attention on our way in until finally we found a spot to drop anchor among other boats moored and anchored off the marina there - just before darkness came.

Dates and holidays often slide by us, as we were reminded when we checked in. Since it was a Saturday, we had to call customs to announce our arrival and be given instructions. They were simple; we met the customs officer about an hour later, going in by dinghy to the gated customs compound on the far side of the marina. Customs formalities were completed quickly, and then we sat and waited for immigration officials who came as soon as they finished their work with commercial vessels in another harbour. That took an hour or so, and we passed the time chatting with the customs officer. That was when we found out that it was St. Patrick’s Day and there was a big parade in this U.S.V.I. town with its Danish and Caribbean heritage to mark the occasion, complete with floats and bands andlotsof green. Time spent waiting passed quickly; our customs officer had travelled around the islands by plane and chartered sailboat, and we swapped stories of weather and people met. Formalities were rapidly completed once the immigration officials arrived, and by noon we were checked in and back on the boat.

The St. Patrick's Day parade sounded like fun, but back at the boat food and tidying up took priority over going ashore right away. By the time we took our dinghy in to the marina and walked in past the fishermen’s beach to Christiansted the great St. Patrick’s Day Parade was just about over, though there was still a festive atmosphere and lots of green around - green clothes, green paint on bodies and faces, green hats and scarves. There were people everywhere: children were happily collecting bead necklaces given away from some of the floats; families and friends were meeting and mingling. Many of the adults had enjoyed the liquid refreshment available, and some were feeling quite relaxed... Walking through town we found a free concert outside one of the bars on the waterfront, lots of dinghies jostling for space along the pier side of the boardwalk, a large mooring field occupying the space we had originally thought about anchoring in, a convenience store with bread and cold drinks. By the time we were walking back the cleanup crews were hard at work, and streets were being restored to their normal state. Our first impression of St. Croix was that here was a rich and unexpected mixing of cultures, an outwardly quiet place leavened by a large dose of energy and creativity. Here was an American territory where cars drive on the left (or in the middle), with a Danish heritage and links to Europe as well as the continental United States and a forward-looking policy of allowing public access to the beaches and encouraging links to the sea - integral parts of any island’s culture. Efforts here include encouraging children to learn about the sea and sailing and on weekdays we watched the graceful schooner Roseway take groups of school children out, crew and children working together to raise the sails as they went down the channel and out of the harbour.

The Roseway was only one of the boats that travelled in and out. There were also small cargo ships, the almost daily ferry, dive boats taking divers out to the reefs, day-tripping catamarans and a trimaran, local fishing boats and what looked like some would-be racing power boats, some more noisy than speedy and others frighteningly unstable as their occupants worked to balance heavy, powerful engines and light hulls. There was an abundance of birds, and it was here that we first watched the Brown Boobies dive like jets into the water, wings and body one straight line streaking downward, and then emerge eating. Then there were the swimming horses. Richard spotted one on a calm day, something strange in the water between the beaches by the anchorage - it took us a while to be sure we were looking at a horse. A few days later we saw others. When we met a beautiful little mare and her handler on the road one day we learned they were from a racing stable just up the hill from the marina and this was part of their training. Even the horses have their links to the sea!

As in most of the islands, tourism is one of the linchpins of the economy - but only one, and we found the development of tourist facilities both less intrusive and more integrated into island life than it had been in Sint Maarten. Add to that a rich mix of cultures and heritages and the sense of independence often found on a small island, and you have a place where the island culture is celebrated, creativity flourishes, most people greet visitors with a friendly pride, and there always seems to be something interesting happening. Not as many cruisers come here, but it isn’t surprising that many of those who do linger.

During the next few weeks we found our way to a couple of the galleries in Christiansted, and were lucky enough to meet the artist Preston Doane at the showing of some of his pictures at the Maufe Gallery. It was an interesting exhibit, based on a series of paintings in which he explores a part of St. Croix’s heritage - the Danish involvement in the slave trade and sugar, and the links between Denmark, Africa and St. Croix. His pictures were rich in symbolism and meaning, and he took the time to talk about how he had come to conceive the idea for them and about the meanings of the symbols he had used and the story he was telling. His being there enriched our experience of that exhibit immeasurably.

Another highlight of our time in St. Croix was being shown around the island from the dry east to the rain forested west and seeing many interesting spots in between. We met our escorts while looking at another Alberg 30 sitting in the boatyard at the marina. They were sitting on their own boat on the hard across from the Alberg - we started talking, they offered us information, practical help and finally friendship, and were happy to show us around this island they had adopted as home. We went driving with them one day when conditions were rough and rolly in the anchorage and it felt good to spend time on a surface that stayed still. With them we skirted the oil refinery close to Cane Garden; saw the Contessa’s house, looking more like a castle on its perch on top of a hill; stopped at the monument marking the easternmost part of the island with its views of the coast and Buck Island; visited beautiful beaches and saw other anchorages; and saw the contrasts in environment and living conditions between different areas of the island. The drought which was hitting hard in the east seemed hardly evident in the west; mansions in the hills overlooked the valleys and coasts and contrasted with small houses and crowded yards around the towns; graceful historical buildings in town contrasted with the modern, well-stocked, mainland-style supermarkets and stores a car ride away.

There was much to absorb,and as always, time passed quickly. Hurricane season was less than two months away. By the beginning of April we were looking for a weather window for our trip to Miami. The promise of three days of winds out of the south east were tempting, so we checked out the afternoon before and early on the first Friday in April we said good-bye to St. Croix and set off on a downwind sail toward Miami.

Pictures from Sint Maarten

Beach bars were common along the board walk in Philipsburg, and on the streets just behind it. As well as being colorful, this one obviously had a Canadian connection - advertising "Ice Cold Beer, eh!"









A walk along the main street behind the board walk took us into this part of Philipsburg where locals live and shop.







One of the reasons tourists visit - the beach. Chairs and umbrellas available - for a fee and a tip. If you did not want to pay, you might be able to find a spot to lay out your towel... This was where the wi-fi was as well, free in some spots or associated with different restaurants in others.








There was an organization which took people out on the 12 Meter race boats which were once used in America's Cup racing. Here is one of the Stars and Stripes (we saw two, plus a model) slicing through the water. They are still elegant and fast and a pleasure to watch sailing.









One of the locally built boats is perched on the beach in Grand Case, propped up and waiting to be put in the water.













Grand Case, on the French side, was a small town with a street lined with restaurants, galleries and shops and a beautiful little beach. We were lucky enough to share an excellent meal at one of the restaurants here with our daughter and her fiance.

Sint Maarten/St. Martin

We had a wonderful sail to Sint Maarten, arriving off the island long before we meant to, and in the dark. Generally we avoid entering a new harbour at night, so we hove to off the coast - and thereby hangs a tale. Running lights and instruments consume power. Our batteries were running low, so Richard started the engine to charge them. As he turned the engine off, he accidentally hit a nearby button which turned off our running lights. Our navigation lights flashed off and back on - and that flash caught the attention of the coast guard, who decided they needed to investigate. So Margaret, off-watch and sleeping, woke to find that we had been boarded by three men with guns from a boat which approached from behind with no lights... Thankfully, the crew which came aboard was professional and businesslike and quickly concluded that we were not carrying anything but ourselves and our provisions. But the incident reminded us that there is an ongoing problem with the traffic of illegal immigrants and goods between the islands. And we also learned that thanks to the mix of cultures here and the importance of the tourist trade you are more likely to hear English in Sint Maarten than any other language.

Our visitors left and we continued to wait. Come daylight we sailed in and dropped anchor in Groot Baai, and Richard went ashore to complete the usual formalities. There was only one hitch: no-one he talked to seemed to know where he was supposed to go - just that it was not wherever he was. In the end it was easier to pull up anchor and make the short sail to Simpson Baai to check in there before heading back to Groot Baai for some well-earned rest. Explorations waited for the next day.

Groot Baai turned out to be an interesting place. With nothing quite as described in the pilot, we resorted to the usual technique when we needed information - ask another cruiser. We soon moved close to where the long-term/local boats were anchored to escape the rather rolly conditions further out. The dinghy dock when we found it on our third trip to shore turned out to be a rather dilapidated structure close to one of the water taxi docks; unappealing, but conveniently close to stores and the complex of booths, restaurants and stores along the waterfront boardwalk. At least it was there when we first arrived - after we spent a week in Simpson Baai visiting with one of our daughters and her fiancé we returned to Groot Baai to find the dinghy dock gone, construction all around it, and cruisers docking their dinghies wherever they could. At that point we opted for pulling up on the fishermen’s beach, after making sure that we would not be in anyone’s way.

The town of Philipsburg lies around Groot Baai. From the water it seems built around the tourist trade from the cruise ships that visit daily, sometimes five or six at a time while we were there, and the waterfront hotels and resorts. When the cruise ships arrive the harbour starts to hum with activity. Water taxis run between the cruise ship dock and the town pier, large catamarans and smaller dive boats line up to take passengers for excursions, the resident 12 metres take groups out to sail and “race”. On shore, chairs and umbrellas are set up and personal water craft are wheeled out for rental. In front of stores and restaurants staff stand encouraging passers-by to come in. Competition is fierce, everything has a price and everyone expects a tip. The “hat and bag” ladies move along the beach and board walk, trying to sell their towels that turn into bags and the hats they wear stacked on their heads - a hard job, since they are often ignored, and even those who respond are not always friendly. The only service we found that was free we found by chance - wi-fi, if you accessed the right service from the right place along the beach.

Moving away from the main tourist area takes you into a different world, where the rhythms are quieter and the influence of the many groups which live here more obvious - Dutch school, Haitian eateries, Afro-Caribbean galleries, houses and stores and businesses side by side, a mixture of languages. On one of our walks along Front Street, the main road which runs behind the boardwalk we came upon one of those happy finds - the relatively new Le Saint-Geran Art Gallery. It sits in a small plaza, across from the Oranje School, its bright exterior promising visitors a chance to enjoy the works of local artists and crafters. Our first glance showed that the pictures in the window included more than the usual tourist fare; inside we were drawn first to the inlaid wood pictures of Jean-Pierre Straub, beautifully and subtly executed using a very wide variety of woods in a myriad of shades and grains, so well done that first you notice beauty of the pictures and only afterward recognise the knowledge, art and craftsmanship behind their production. Other pictures drew our attention, work by a range of artists working in different styles and on a variety of themes but united by the common focus on their links to and work in Sint Maarten and the Caribbean. Patricia and Dany Ramsami are the hearts and minds behind the gallery. Dany was there when we visited, friendly and knowledgeable and happy to share with us and other visitors what he knew about the art and artists we looked at. We quickly found out that he had been involved the art world for years; he was passionate about art in general and as well as about art in Sint Maarten/St. Martin in particular, supportive of artists and understanding of their work, and quick to share information that was useful to a visiting artist. The gallery reflects that passion for art, and we enjoyed our visits there so much we decided to put a link to the gallery in the side bar so that you can enjoy it too.

The week we spent in Simpson Baai showed us a different side of Sint Maarten. We were among those who anchored in the bay itself, including some of the megayachts - many more boats of all sizes and types were anchored in the lagoon. The whole area is full of cruisers and the atmosphere is very cruiser friendly. Many boats anchor inside the lagoon, where there are many businesses easily accessed from the water, and many dinghy docks are filled by visiting cruisers taking advantage of being able to find all kinds of services and buy boat parts at reasonable prices. One of the fullest dinghy docks was in front of Shrimpy’s, the restaurant from which the morning cruiser’s net originates. There area cruisers find internet access along with food, drink, laundry facilities and friendly help and advice. We had the pleasure of a small QCYC reunion at Shrimpy’s - Kim and David on Amanzi and Ann and Steve on Recetta happened to be in Simpson Baai lagoon while we were anchored outside. Shortly afterward everyone took off in different directions.

The trip between Groot Baai and Simpson Baai was enlivened by a close look at ABN AMRO, the sailboat that can do 42 knots. She was certainly roaring along at high speed when we saw her. We made the trip between the bays in brisk winds at about 7 knots under a reefed main; they were moving much faster under spinnaker, racing in the Big Boat Races in the Heineken Regatta. Winner of the 2005-06 Volvo Ocean Race, her brightly coloured paint job and speed certainly made her stand out here. Statistics for those interested: 70.5 feet long, 18 feet wide, her mast is 103.3 feet above the water and her keel 15 feet below it. On the move she is a very impressive sight.

We had originally planned to anchor in Marigot Bay, on the French side of the island, but north swells coming into the anchorage encouraged us to make our base on the Dutch side instead. In the end we visited St. Martin briefly by car, spending an afternoon in the town of Marigot and an evening in Grand Case. Our time there was agreeable, a quick round of small galleries and boutique shops in Marigot and a walk and a visit to an excellent restaurant in Grand Case where a look at the anchorage and beach convinced us that this would be a very nice place to stop for a while when next we visit the island. Because we certainly will be back.

Pictures from Nevis

Pinney's Beach, off which we were anchored during our stay in Nevis. The water was beautiful and clear, ideal for swimming in during the day. The beach was enjoyed by locals and visitors alike, except where two hotels staked their claim to its charms.









On Charlestown's main street old and new mix as traffic flows between businesses housed in older two-storey buildings. They give the feeling of a town which has embraced things more modern without losing its links to its past.










U2Fast was one of the local fishing boats; others had names like Easy Does It and I Am Light. The boats may have been a traditional design, but they were powered by outboards, often in pairs, and moved briskly through the anchored boats morning and evening on the way to and from town.








Looking down from Golden Rock toward the ocean - we came past this coast on our way from Antigua.













In Nevis we visited Golden Rock, a suggestion from fellow cruisers. It is on a former plantation in the coolness of the hills. Various of the old buildings are now converted to other uses - restaurant, guest quarters - and is a pleasant place to visit.









Mount Nevis, with the cloud that almost always hovers over it and Cherub, Paul Johnson's boat, in the foreground.

Chilling in Nevis

We left Antigua early in the morning, but not quite early enough - we arrived in Nevis in the early evening darkness. The lights from their stadium shone out toward the sea, robbing us of our night vision and we made the turn in toward the harbour earlier than we should have. So when we suddenly found ourselves in an (uncharted) mooring field we decided to drop anchor, made sure we were clear of everything around us, and went to bed. Better to figure things out in the morning.

Early morning light showed us that we had anchored on the town side of the Charlestown pier among local boats, within sight of the anchorage we had picked on our chart. So we upped anchor and made our way past the town pier to a spot off Pinney’s Beach under Nevis Peak before Richard dinghied back to town to look after the formalities of checking in. Clearing in did not take long. With Into The Blue swinging on her anchor just a short dinghy ride from shore we tidied up and by afternoon were heading for the beach to take a look around and begin to get the feel of this island.

It did not take long to walk in to Charlestown, Nevis’ capital. And we found that walking through Charlestown does not take long either - unless you stop to visit the museum, or to see the pictures in the Cafe des Arts, or browse through some of the stores for clothes or souvenirs... Two supermarkets lay at the other end of town, and there was a Chinese grocery store in the middle; there was less expensive internet access close to the supermarkets, as well as an air-conditioned internet cafe closer to the beach (internet access came in the more or less expensive categories - no free wi-fi here). And on the beach itself was the Double Deuce Beach Bar - music all day, pleasant and cruiser friendly, offering cold drinks and good food (though not breakfast, no matter what the sign says - opening late for dinner and drinks and karaoke night makes it a little difficult to get up in time for that). We took notes from the cruising guide they kept on the counter, a great source of information particularly when combined with the knowledge offered by other cruisers, but found out too late about the fresh water outdoor shower we could have used. Next time we’ll know.

Double Deuce is where we met Paul Johnson, who at eighteen sailed across the Atlantic in a dinghy. Now eighty-two, he was aboard Cherub, a double-ended gaff-rigged boat of his own design. He built her to be fast and stable at speeds above theoretical hull speed. Because, he said, he liked to sail fast and enjoyed sailing along the fronts of storm systems where he could whip along at twelve knots or so. The only disadvantage was that sailing like that was a little rough, and his crew tended to leave ship after these episodes. We will remember Paul Johnson, but he probably won’t remember us - we would have been among the many faces at the bar where he enjoyed telling stories and downing largish amounts of alcoholic beverages.

PInney’s Beach was a very nice place to swim and walk and just generally relax and unwind. Other cruisers came and went, charter boats visited, the local fishermen came through a couple of times a day - the route of some of the local boats seemed to vary depending on whether there were any clothing optional boats at anchor at the time. From time to time small cruise ships visited, anchoring out at sea and ferrying their passengers in to Charlestown. Even the Maltese Falcon made a brief stop, as you’ll see from our pictures.

Our trips ashore were very pleasant - friendly greetings, friendly faces, people who welcomed and were glad to help visitors. Our visit to Golden Rock, a former sugar estate in the hills, confirmed this feeling. We went on the recommendation of cruisers we met - a chance to see a little more of the island and perhaps get a picture of the monkeys there. We took the bus from Charlestown, making sure to ask if it was the bus (otherwise it might become a taxi, our friends told us). Knowing we were visitors, the driver went out of his way to drop us closer to where we wanted to go (with the agreement of his passengers). An uphill walk along a winding tree-lined road took us to a pleasant restaurant, where we enjoyed a cold drink and caught a glimpse of the monkeys thanks to the kind ladies who served us - but no pictures, the monkeys never came close enough for pictures. The ladies told us that the monkeys, once pets of the well-to-do, are now pests that raid gardens and garbage for food.

Later we caught the bus back from the local gas station where the lady proprietor also sold cold drinks and snacks from a small store, including home made coconut pastries she made herself. They were very good. She helped make sure we caught the right bus back to Charlestown, and wished us a good journey as we left. Her wishes must have stayed with us right up to our sail to Sint Maarten, since it was one of those fast beam reaches the Alberg 30 seems made for.

The weather changed. A surge developed, the waves making it difficult to land the dinghy on the beach and risky to tie up at the town dock. We were coming to the end of the time we had meant to stay anyway - everything suggested it was time to move on. Checking out formalities were quickly and efficiently completed the afternoon before we left, even though the power went off and forms were filled out in the dim light of an unlit office. The next morning we watched Paul Johnson leave, hauling up his anchor and raising his sails by hand before sailing off on his way south - maybe to Curacao, he said. It was a pleasure to watch Cherub under way. There is something very graceful in the lines of those gaff-rigged sails as they fill with the wind. After he vanished into the distance we pulled up our own anchor and set off ourselves for an overnight sail to Sint Maarten and the prospect of new places to explore.

Jolly Harbour, Antigua

From the anchorage we could look out to sea, toward Montserrat, Redonda and Nevis. Here the sun is setting; Montserrat peeks from behind the point which helps shelter us.











Most Saturdays there was all-comers racing out of the Jolly Harbour Marina. Our first weekend there we saw the racing fleet sailing out past (and through) the anchorage. Talk about seeing racing up close - there were times we were in the middle of it!









The brown pelicans often perched on the channel marker not too far from us, to groom themselves and rest. Sometimes the wind was strong enough to unbalance them as they perched there...












Every now and then we caught a glimpse of how the other half lives - this mega-yacht paid a visit to the facilities in Jolly Harbour, feeling its way slowly in along the channel. Wonder if the helicopter meant that the owner was on board?









Looking toward the island from where we were anchored, Jolly Harbour in the foreground and the hills fading back into the distance.

Antigua

We were glad to get to Antigua. Our original plan was to go first to St. John’s, the island’s capital, but with repairs to make we decided to go to Jolly Harbour instead - no park fees, as there are in English and Falmouth Harbours, and a chandlery right on site. And, as we found out, a well-stocked grocery store, access to wi-fi through one of the restaurants (Melini’s) and almost all the other necessities a cruiser looks for. The only disadvantage we could see was the lack of a bank which dealt with international accounts. For that we had to take the bus to St. John’s.

The bus was inexpensive, and it’s route took us out of the gated holiday/retirement community that is Jolly Harbour. Travelling along the roads to St. John’s we saw much that reminded us of the Jamaica we grew up in - goats crossing the road in search of food, a man riding a donkey loaded with sacks, cattle and a few horses grazing in a common. Street vendors sold fruit and drinks by the road, and school children dressed in uniform walked to school or took the bus with us. We passed local restaurants and small shops, and on a particularly bad section of the road a man holding a sign complaining about the state of the road standing beside various suspension parts he claimed had fallen off his car. Someone on the bus always had something to say about that.

St. John’s was also reminiscent of things we had seen before. We walked from the bus station along streets with open drains, the sidewalks either non-existent, very narrow or occupied by street vendors. Loud music blared from competing sound systems as vendors hawked CDs from their booths, and pedestrians walked along the roads with the cars and crossed streets wherever they could find a gap in the traffic. As we got closer to the harbour and the tourist area sidewalks became the norm, and the shopping area and boardwalk by the harbour looked like another world.

Back in Jolly Harbour it did not take long to find out that there was sailboat racing here as well. Our first weekend we saw sails jockeying in the harbour, and then the fleet came out and through the anchorage, using local knowledge to go where we cruisers would not think to. We had a close up look at a few of the boats as the raced past us - a great vantage point to take pictures from, and there were some beautiful boats racing. We were invited to join just before we left - though in fact we could have joined in at any time if we had not been busy doing things like sewing chafe patches on the sails and sewing our dodger windows back in. A month at sea is hard on a boat.

We spent a lot of our time working on the boat and on trying yet again to get our radio fixed, but not all of it. We had time to meet some of the interesting people who came in to anchor, and to visit with people we had met before in our travels and saw again. We benefited from the cruisers’ network - the passing on of knowledge about places we were going to or had been - and shared information with others if it seemed useful to them. If some of the local boats were annoyingly thoughtless as they roared through the channel by the anchorage, others showed themselves to be friendly and helpful; the marina staff certainly were, even though we were not in the marina itself.

If we had stayed in Jolly Harbour or travelled only by boat we would probably have left with a different impression of the island and its people. But because we took the bus, went into local shops and spent time listening to local radio we began to see a different side of Antigua. The feeling in some stores that we did not really belong there was uncomfortable, but even more uncomfortable was having a woman leave one of the buses we were on because she felt there were too many white people on it. Then one day as we listened to a local call in program we heard a caller saying that Jamaicans were unwelcome; we heard one Gwen Davies, a respected teacher, say that black people were out of order to vote with Syrians and white people against the Labour Party; another day we were in the supermarket, where cashiers rarely looked at or spoke to visitors, when a customer began ranting at a man in the line behind her, saying he should go back to Jamaica and all foreigners should go back where they came from. The irony was that the man was an Antiguan - he just happened to be wearing a “Jamaica - no problem” t’shirt!

So when we came to the end of our time in Antigua and the immigration official on duty at the time seemed to feel that we should go to the trouble and expense of leaving and coming back if we wanted to stay longer, we decided that it was time to go. We put the boat into sailing condition and said goodbye to Antigua with few regrets. Next stop: Nevis, a very different experience.

Pictures from Las Palmas and Atlantic Crossing

The harbour in Las Palmas is home to many different kinds of marine activity. Here Optimist dinghies practice among the anchored boats; a windsurfer does his thing and a freighter waits to be loaded in the background. We also watched Lasers practicing and kayakers training.








This Parque de San Telmo in the older part of Las Palmas was filled with children visiting on the day we walked through - you can see a group of them gathered by the roofed pavilion in the picture. With Christmas coming and school not yet over a visit to the cultural attractions of the old city was a popular way to pass the day.







A square in the older part of the city, gracefully proportioned and nicely framing the approach to the Gabinete Literario.












It looks a little different, but even here McDonald's makes its presence known, framed by columns and balconies, tucked into a building which maintains its old facade on one of the cities main shopping promenades.














Walking down toward the Casa de Colon, the Columbus Museum; the Catedral Santa Ana overlooks the street and its traffic.












The city is putting on its Christmas face, poinsettias adding a splash of colour around the fountain - and the pigeons are cleaning themselves up too...












There is no easy way to capture on film the sense of vastness you get when you are on the ocean. Sunsets spread across the horizon. Here we try to share a small portion of what we see.











A quiet day, flying the drifter in light winds. Salt coats the dodger windows and filters the light shining through the sails.











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From the Canaries to Antigua

Las Palmas, Gran Canaria.

Las Palmas is not one city, but many. Within it lie older towns, such as the Cuidad del Mar created when the area was being settled in the fifteenth century. Different areas are dominated by different styles of buildings - you can walk through modern apartment buildings into an area of elegant, balconied facades and then into the heart of the old city with its narrow cobbled streets and buildings whose walls lie right along the roads. Within walking distance of the anchorage and marina you can take your choice of visiting the busy commercial area and municipal market to the north east, walking north to swim or walk the beach at the Playa de las Canteras, or heading west or south west to visit the parks and museums of the Cuidad Jardin or Cuidad del Mar. There are areas of beauty, well-groomed promenades and striking sculptures, but stray too far from the main streets around the port and you are aware that the dangers of a city lurk here too.

But then as soon as you arrive you are aware that this is a bustling city, complete with not two but four rush hours when traffic jams the highway along the waterfront - as in Spain, many businesses close in the middle of the day then open again in the afternoon. The beach by the anchorage was a busy place too, especially afternoons and weekends. But most days all would grow quiet as evening progressed into night, kayakers ended their training sessions, sailors out of the Club Nautico or the Club Varadero ended their practices, and basketball or soccer games in the facility on the beach ended; only the port remained busy as ships and tugs and pilot boats came and went. Sometimes we could hear the reverberations from their engines echoing in our boat. After everything else grew quiet, unless the weather was nasty, the beach and its surroundings were the playground of the restless youth, parking their cars by the Real Club Nautico or walking down the stairs from the street. Some mornings you could see that the graffiti makers had been at work - some social commentary, a few pieces of art, a lot of tagging. Late at night or early in the morning a tractor would groom the sand and the garbage bins would be emptied; then the beach would return to its daytime self, home for fishing boats and workshops and marine sports clubs and visited by a few local bathers and fishermen.

We usually took our dinghy into the beach when we went ashore, and it was because of this that we were lucky enough to be invited into a workshop where one of the local wooden racing sailboats was being constructed. Using a combination of gestures and our minimal Spanish and his slight English, we learned that they had almost finished planking the hull, and would be caulking and painting soon. This was a boat similar to the ones we had seen sailing in Arrecife - races between them are part of the sailing calendar, and help to keep the art and craft of constructing them and the skills of sailing them alive. Using a lateen rig and crew for ballast means that they sail very differently from the boats we are used to.

Time ashore included time spent at the Club Maritimo Varadero, where for a minimal fee we enjoyed the pool, sauna, showers and the pleasant club house with its wi-fi access - nice way to get to the internet, and less expensive than buying drinks everyday at the bar down the road - though some people might have preferred that alternative. We also found time to visit the Las Palmas Casa de Colon, where he is supposed to have stayed when he put in here to do repairs (that sounds familiar!). One room has been made into an interesting and well done replica of part of the inside of one of his ships; other rooms illustrate aspects of the history of the times, and there is a small exhibition of art from the sixteenth to the twentieth century with some very intriguing pictures. It was interesting that any visits to the Azores do not seem to have been recorded here!

Las Palmas takes its sailing seriously. Cruisers find a home here with access to all kinds of services and stores, and the Real Club Nautico is a centre for serious racing as well as training - while we were there they hosted Laser and Tornado championship races with sailors from across Europe competing. In the same complex as the marina there are other clubs, including one which houses a fleet of the Canaries lateen rigged racing boats, and was being used as a departure point for a rowboat getting ready to cross the Atlantic. Like us, many cruisers wait until the Atlantic Rally for Cruisers has left to come here to provision and prepare for a crossing to the Caribbean, so we had the pleasure of seeing again many friends and acquaintances we had met in other places. And of meeting new friends.

Winds out of the south helped us make the decision to leave when we did. Unable to get our HF radio repaired (how we missed being able to talk to Herb), we planned to leave with other boats who would be talking to him. But they were in the marina, and the weather that encouraged us to leave encouraged them to stay - as well as the fact that last minute repairs to one of the boats were not complete. We left the harbour early in the morning on December 16, motoring into swells that were already increasing, and set off to begin our journey to Antigua with two days of sailing in lumpy seas and good winds.

Across the Atlantic.

When you set out on a longer voyage you cannot predict what kind of weather you will meet. As it turned out we did meet some heavy weather on this voyage, but only twice and only for relatively short times. Our first Friday out the winds began to build, and the seas grew higher through the day. By afternoon we were sailing with trysail and tiny jib, and the waves were high enough to interfere with the windvanes ability to steer. The coming night would be moonless - making it difficult to see the waves and steer the boat through them. For the first time, we put our drogue out, and were glad to find out it worked very well. The night was far from peaceful, with water slapping the boat from behind and beside, but we could close up the hatch and rest inside in some comfort while the storm blew itself past us, and as usual by next morning the weather was much calmer. Our only other brush with heavy weather was the day we ran into some “convection activity” - high winds and pelting rain, and it caught us with our jib poled out trying to make the best of the lighter winds preceding it. Richard steered until there was a break and we could get the pole down; then we hove to and once again let the bad weather pass. And afterward the sun shone again and the sea was as calm as if the weather had never been.

If we had two days of bad weather, that means we had twenty-six days of good weather. The winds blew a little more or a little less; the waves were a little higher or a little lower. When we could we flew our biggest sail, our drifter; other days we travelled with our sail reefed. After New Years Day we spent the rest of the journey with a reef in our sail - that was the day part of our boom track broke off the mast (the boom was attached to it at the time). Richard made temporary repairs, using the part of the track still attached to the boom, and we travelled a little more slowly the rest of the way.

If New Years was a little more eventful than we liked, Christmas was peaceful. We sailed quietly most of the day, stood our usual watches, and made ourselves a special dinner which we topped off with sinfully delicious triple-chocolate turron. Our only regret was not being able to be in touch with family and friends, especially our daughters. But we had decided that waiting until after Christmas to cross was simply to increase the chance of facing bad weather in the Canaries, and higher waves at sea. As we found out from friends, we were right about the bad weather. And it helps that we like being at sea.

It is difficult to describe what it is like out there. The water stretches out around you, constantly moving, constantly changing. Waves run across waves, and wind makes the surface dance. Occasionally another ship or boat breaks the vista - but we saw very few this trip. The sky is arches unbroken overhead, and you see the clouds move under it and the weather as it comes across the water. Everything is vast; away from the many small distractions of land there is a sense of privacy, time to explore your own thoughts, a sense of how little we are in relation to the world we live in. Sunsets and sunrises surround you, the stars overhead fill the sky on a moonless night, the moon provides more light that you are aware of when surrounded by manmade lights. You spend time standing watches, navigating, changing sails, cleaning, maintaining, taking care of yourself and the boat. Time passes, and then as your journey comes to an end you have to make the adjustment to dealing with shore life again...

We knew the end of our journey was coming when, two days in a row, tropicbirds came to visit us, and we saw frigate birds soaring on thermals high above the water in the distance. The wind picked up during the night before we made landfall, bringing us close to the island in the early morning darkness. We hove to, and in the hours before daylight passed to the south of Antigua. Come daylight we sailed again, and made landfall in Jolly Harbour on the morning of January twelfth. We were back in the Caribbean.