They must often change who would be constant in happiness or wisdom
- Confucius - (c.550-c.478 bc)
Change
My Encarta Encyclopeadia claims there to be 600 small islands in the Grenadines. I wonder where they are. We'll be only scratching the surface again anyway. Mostly we'll be scratching the surface of Aliisa, as soon as we find a work yard. We much enjoyed the chance encounter with Tony, Lea and Peter in the Soufriers, St. Lucia. But as always, departure is imminent. Travelling the world is a continuing fight against the natural ability to adapt. In just five days I find myself familiar with the faces and places around me. In just five days I start to feel at home. That's dangerous stuff. Gotta move on, otherwise the barnacles will grow, the boat will rust and the story will end. The yachts rotting in harbours around the world belong to people who adapt remarkably well. Well adjusted people? Oh... let's get on with it:
Picture perfect? Just add the metallic "clonk-clonk-clonk" from a loose halyard on one side and a steady 2-stroke generator on the deck of a yacht on the other side. But yeah, It's still a good way to live. (Bequia, Port Elizabeth)
We made a decision to pass St. Vincent altogether. The decision was based partly on the need to get Aliisa out of the water and my feeling of urgency about it. (The same feeling of urgency I have for everything in life, sometimes even for the next sentence brewing in my mouth and ready to come out without stopping at the brain at all. The other reason to bypass St. Vincent was the large number of negative reports from the island. In retrospect, we probably denied ourself another chance to see a really interesting and beautiful place. It appears that Chateaubelair is the only port in St. Vincent to have a problem, including armed and potentially violent crime against visiting yachts reported recently. All the other ports and achorages seem fine. At least safer than walking drunk on a friday night through the streets of Helsinki. Yet, we felt like skipping St. Vincent and so we did. Let's say it was a protest against aggressive crime in Chateaubelair.
The best inverter in the world my ass! The much raved about STERLING 1000W machine kept overheating. The piece-of-shit Chinese fan had turned into a "solid state" cooling device, not very cool. Nothing that another cheap Chinese job and a bit of ducting tape wouldn't fix.
In retrospect I kinda regret not stopping, though it's a pointless regret, like all regrets are. You do what you do, for the reasons that are not always that clear, even to yourself. The choises we (Annina and I) make regarding "security issues" are not always about not feeling safe or being worried about violence. Sometimes we give a place a miss or move on simply because we don't feel welcome and relaxed. Right or wrong decicion, who knows, we potter along and there seems to be always more places coming up ahead, as if the planet was round...
The independent country of St. Vincent and the Grenadines is made up of two completely different parts. One starts with "St." and a V and the other with a "The" followed by G, which appears a lot earlier in the alphabet. Sorry, I'll get to the point. (Whatever that is...) St.Vincent would have been one more high, volcanic, green, lush and moist island followed by Guadeloupe, Dominica, Martinique and St. Lucia. Heading south, past St. Vincent, we came to a whole new world of lower lying, drier and smaller islands. Yep, that would be the Grenadines. I'm starting to sound like an author of a cruising guide, looking at a map and browsing through an encyclopaedia before writing empty nothings to fill the first two chapters. Right, If you really wanna know about the geology, geopolitics and geography of the Lesser Antilles, you can probably google it right now. You appear to be online ...
Living it up. Bequia's waterfront bars and eateries were truly waterfront. The beer today is called Hairoun.
Bequia
The island of Bequia offered a real change. More colonnial style, smaller, dryer, still friendly but not as much smiling as further north. Lovely accent, the way the locals spoke english was in some ways similar to the distinct accent of St. Helena The check-in was easy and nobody gave a toss about the fact that I forgot to do immigration in St. Lucia. The state of Aliisa with its rust lines on the sides and a junk yard at the back deck ment that all the traders left us alone. In town I still kept getting offers for ganja. I don't really mind ganja. But as I gave up smoking three years ago, I've banned myself from breathing any kind of smoke. Secondly, Aliisa has always been and will always remain drug free. For legal purposes.
Port Elizabeth was so packed, I could here people talking in their cockpits while lying in the aft cabin. The traders and boat-boys were zooming past whenever another yacht tender wasn't, leaving a wake and a wash behind. A Sunsail charter yacht infront of us had the customary loose main halyard, playing the mast with a varying tempo depending on wind gusts. To complete the chaos, just as the sun is starting to set, our French neighbour brought out a 2-stroke generator on the foredeck and turned it on. Finally a northerly swell drove us around the south side of Bequia, into Friendship Bay. A little rolly there but not too bad. Very quiet and that was a big bonus. Here, infront of a few hillside houses and one resort, things were calm and peaceful. As a treat, we wondered to the resort bar and had lunch. A toasted sandwich and a couple of beers. After paying, I realised that the price equalled the same amount of beers, a bottle of gin, a bottle of rum, fresh bread and half dozen tonics from the corner shop. I quickly ran to the corner shop. A nice strong signal from the resort wi-fi kept us online. Life off line is just not on, mate.
Bequia (pronounce Bekwei) was significantly lower and dryer than the islands further north.
Hot walks from Friendship Bay to the capital Port Elizabeth. Surrounded by the odd cruiser and shitloads of charter yachts. There's nothing really wrong about charter yachts, in fact, they probably suffer from an unfair amount of bad press and negative attitudes by people like me. Just like the ARC does, though I've been careful not to voice my thoughts on that. Once I reach a level of true and real self confidence, I don't need to take the piss out of other people and the way they do things. I hope to stay a little insecure forever, as taking the piss out of other people is a huge source of joy in my life.
Tobago Cays. My plan was to take that magic photo of Aliisa floating in air, with her shadow cast on the sand through crystal clear water. The angle of the sun wasn't quite right and the chop didn't help. Thanks to Sy Bajazzo for winching me up their mast!
Where were we? Ah, Bequia. The CIA factbook claims there to be small-scale cannabis cultivation in here. Judging from the offers I had, the scale is medium to large. But it's all relative. One big plant is pretty large scale to me. And that was Bequia for us. Nevermind, we're off again, this time to the magical Tobago Cays. Did I say magical?. Tobago Cays
(pronunce: kay, though many Americans pronunce it "kee" from the word Key, both meaning a sandy island made of broken coral rubble and sand, sometimes shifting according to the "focal point" of the reef or shallow water where it forms from pounding ocean swell and wind-waves piling up the sand and coral. Sometimes it gets stabilised by bird droppings (and seeds within) to form a permament coral island, much like the classic cartoon island of one pile of sand, one palm and one horny shipwreck survivor?) The evolution from a shifting tidal sand cay to a fully established vegetated island may take anywhere from a few hundred to 3000 years.
was nice, but the magic was exactly where it is with sailing and living on a boat. The magic was in the weather. Unfortunately we had a bit too much magic, a good 20-25kn from the NE with a considerable chop. In light conditions, the place would have been truly amazing. Lots of turtles, good snorkeling and good holding for anchoring. (Also national park moorings). The boat boys were cool, very polite and not pushy. (Why do us "westerners" have grown to hate push-selling? Because of the ancient custom of salesmen and the not-so-ancient Jehova's Witnesses knocking on you front door, wanting a piece of you?).
A wave from the deck and the service is there. Fresh bread, fresh fish, lobster BBQ on the beach, T-shirts, jewellery, anything you like. Angelo responds with youthful energy, exceeding the speed limit. Pitty our budget is pretty skinny because I really would have liked to give these local guys more business. Times are hard for them, with a lot less than normal amount of charter yachts around.
The motion of the boat was a little restless. We managed a few hours of walking on an island after parking next to a dead body. Yeah, some cruise ship customer was taking her final rest on the waterline, covered by a wet sheet. The little crowd next to her stood waiting for the doctor to confirm that she had indeed reached the state we all knew she was in. If someone had asked her an hour earlier: "How's it going", the best answer would have been: "I'm getting there..." We all are. It was of course a lot more fun to check out the iguanas on the island and the turtles around it. I hope the old lady had had a good life, ending in a magical feeling of swimming with turtles...
Union Island seen from .... where else? From a balcony of a bar!
Union Island
An hour or so took us to Union island, the last one of St. Vincent's Grenadines. It was another dry, quiet place, one I could easily get used to. A nice fringing reef around the harbour and best of all, a happy island on it. Yep, This dude called Jantte had basically poured enough cement on the reef to make his own little island home. Plus a bar, of course. Perfect for sundowners. All he really has to do now is to dig the whole island off the bottom, attach a keel and go cruising.
The feeling in Union Is. was perhaps the slowest yet. Even the customs officer reminded us to take it easy. Live slow. Don't rush. Don't worry. Don't hurry. It's not worth it. I'll try to remember that. And that was Union island for us. Yeah, I'm rushing, hurrying, worrying with this bastard update. I've got a few jobs to do, few things to fix, and a few stories to write (in Finnish). At this point of this story we go again. Now it's time for the photo finish of the page. Let the photos do the talking.
Carriacou
Tyrrel Bay, Carriacou
The first job in Tyrrel Bay was to pull the sails down and take them to Andy (In Stiches) the sailmaker. The rest of our stay was spent in Tyrreb Bay Haulout.
Backstay off and ready for the lift.
The biggest bastard of a job was the teak grab rails on the coach house. They are bolted through and required a bit of interior destruction before coming off.
The rest was all violence and sparks. Rust off, International 2-pack epoxy primer (3 coats) followed by Watertite 2-pack epoxy filler and deck paint.
A bit of polyurethane underneath, tigten the nuts from inside, put ceiling panels back on, job done!
Annina did her share: Painting was her department...
... as well as feeding me. We didn't escape arguments and frustration, but given the heat, and a few other annoying things, all went well.
And some of the few other annoying things are here. Lightless sub-standard cubicles. The top disappointment on this yard was the lack of running water. Only a tank at the jetty, carry your own with a bucket. This fact is well kept in wraps too, until you're on the yard. But to be fair, the price was right, the boys did a professional job and I've forgiven the office manager for being one of the worst customer service persons that I've ever met.
Kingman (Steven) grabbed our folding bikes for a good price. We got to use them twice and it was better to pass them on while still in good condition.
Relaxing with some Trivial Pursuit and snacks.
The ongoing product testing will hopefully produce more reviews, later. Here's the collection of hand tools - mostly Makita and Bosch.
(A bonus rant for those who read this far....)
FREEDOM (to rant)
Law is a funny thing. It's a little bit like God. A lot of people feel that it is continuously watching us and judging us. Laws of course are less imaginery than God. What is real, though, is apparently the the strange need that many people have: to be controlled. Bloody Hell! If I just put on a uniform and carry a pair of hand cuffs and a rubber bat, people would be kneeling over, willing to take orders from me in no time at all. And I'm not talking sexually here. We (as "we, the humans") seem to need nothing more than to someone to tell us: "you're naughty" and then tell us what to do to escape punishment. For us to want it so bad, there must be something in it. Even sex - the most wonderful, beautiful and loving thing we can do - is often referred as being "naughty". (And it's naughty with a grin...) And so the people of the world are divided in two categories: Those who give orders and those who take them. We all play both roles, adjusting to the hierarchies of our societies and culture.
My biggest entertainment these days is to browse chat-rooms, cruising guides and other information sites, reading all the "law" and the "rules" and the "regulations" and the other endless "can't dos" and "must dos" of life. If I'd take all that seriously, I'd be reporting to the local police before I would dare to take a dump in my toilet! In fact all this ranting is courtesy of some dude who posted a news item to the Noonsite.com (and of course noonsite published it!). Let me play the highlights:
...there are a significant proportion of long range cruising sailors who don't carry insurance because of the expense. In the future they will be denied entry to any European port. (BULLSHIT!)
...requirement envisaged for all vessels over 15 metres to carry an Automatic Identification System (AIS). This piece of legislation is aimed at fishing boats, not at leisure yachts, but the sailing boats will be caught as well. (Not aimed at... but you will be caght as well? HELLO? IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE? )
With this new package, the European Union will have a completely overhauled system for monitoring vessels in its ports. This system will allow a more frequent and systematic inspection of vessels, and will make it possible to ban non-complying boats, as well as ships, from European ports. (READ THIS AND NEVER LEAVE HOME. They are out to get you, you naughty naughty little thing.)
Well, dear Des (the author), while perhaps hundreds of cruisers reading your "news" will rethink their voyages to Europe, thousands will be wondering about "packages" that are "aimed at" and while not being "aimed at" you, you will still "get caught". For the rest of you: Don't worry. AIS is not compulsory. Insurance is not required by governments. A third-party is enough for any marina. Only passport and yacht registration will be required. All the above crap relates to commercial shipping. But luckily the "news" caught my eye. It gave me a nice "piece" to rant about. Good onya Des. Cheers. Thank you. I feel better now. Let's not discourage people from fulfilling their dreams by throwing garbage at them, ok? (And for noonsite, let's not publish everything and anything that anyone sends your way, ok?)
And by the way, The new European package regulation envisages that should no AIS signal be detected by relevant authorities and be reflected by fishermen, who, even if they are cruising yachts and not a target of this piece of fisheries investigation on contamination of legislation, you should be prepared by not ignoring the EU directive which will eventually get you up the shit creek in a barbwire canoe without a paddle. Got it? Neither did I.
And that concludes this month's ranting section, all packaged up together nicely with some irrelevant cruising stuff. I have to do all the ranting myself now as it seems that Kapitan Peedoff has disappeared. I heard he got a gig setting up a yacht club in Pospelov Bay, Novaya Zemlya. I wish him luck. Before I go, I would like to extend a special thanks to all the sponsors, who all paid good money for next to nothing. Cheers. See ya in Trinidad?
