Kalunamoo

After two and half months in Antigua, we sailed south. The time spent on that easy island was high in socializing with family, the Salty Dawgs and friends. It included a two-week jaunt to New York at Christmas time. Before leaving the island, we reprovisioned our essential food and drinks to reach St Lucia.

It was a hop to Guadeloupe. The weather was delightful. Clear skies, no squalls and winds were moderate east trades of 18-20 knots on the beam. Those days are the jewels of sailing. You usually end up paying for them at some point, but who thinks about that then? Full jib, stay sail, main and mizzen, it doesn’t get any better than that. It’s a good way to save fuel!

 The usual first stop in Guadeloupe is Deshaies. That is the lovely French waterfront town made popular by the British TV series Death in Paradise. Perhaps that title is a little off putting as it’s actually a takeoff of the old Colombo detective TV show. Most of the mayhem involves tourists, not locals, so that is reassuring. We have been there many times, so we didn’t need to deal with a crowded anchorage or the strong funneling winds (and maybe some malcontent tourists?) so we continued south. Past Pigeon Island, we dropped anchor at Bouillante and watched the green flash of sunset. We were at anchor there for two days in the 84 degree geothermal warmed water. Despite a small roll, it was a stage 2 going to stage 3 at times, it was a very leisurely stop. The roll is always a problem when anchoring in an open roadstead in lieu of a protected harbor. Despite being halfway down the coast and in the lee of a very large island, swells are almost always present.  

Weather, and seas dictate our time schedule. It looked like a good time to spend some time in Les Isles de Santes. These small islands are just off the southern coast of Guadeloupe. Moorings just in front of the main town of Bourge des Saintes on the main island, Terre D’er Haut is the best option for anchoring. Elsewhere the water is too deep to anchor or far from town. The issue is to find an open mooring. No reservations are taken, it is a first come, luck of the draw situation. We found that the best time to arrive is around 9-10 in the morning when boats start to leave and before others arrive. 

To arrive at that time, we decided to move from Bouillante to the River Sens by Basse-Terre  the day before heading to the Saints. This also minimized heading into the strong winds off the south corner of Guadeloupe and to arrive in the Saints by 9 AM.

That was a good plan but anchoring by the River Sens (its more like a small stream) in the open roadstead subjected us to a rolly night. It was only one night of stage 4 going to 5. (Stage 4 – watch your drinks; stage 5 – plan to move!). The reason for the roll is due to the low swell generated by the constant winds at the ends of the islands that creep up in the lee of the island. There is no local wind, so the boat lies beam to the swell. It is one reason why catamarans have become so popular. They are less subject to the harmonic roll of a monohull in these low swells.   

But it worked out fine, as we picked up a mooring on arrival off the main town and found a few other cruisers that we knew there so it was back to socializing!

This was Carnaval Season. The week before the Christian Ash Wednesday most islands celebrate the week with street music, floats, costumes and “partying”. Its not really a religious experience as much as a good excuse to party. Trinidad has the largest carnival of all but all size communities from Fort def France, Pointe a Pitre to Bouillante hold celebrations. They are colorful and noisy affairs. We have attended many over the years and this year we managed to avoid all but a small troop in Les Saintes. The music, however, was heard in all anchorages!

From the Saints we anchored overnight in Dominica and then sailed down to Martinique. Again bypassing the usual stop at St. Pierre, we anchored at the less popular town of Le Carbet. We did meet up with BeBe there as they were heading north and had a great dinner aboard their boat that night. We were getting close to the socializing scene. Before our last stop in Saint Anne, we spent two nights in Les Anses D’Arlet and again heard the carnival sounds from the anchorage.

We finally made Saint Anne, going around Diamond Rock in the early morning to avoid the strong head winds when going east. The old men of Diamond, the bearded one facing east the younger facing west are the stoic souls of solitude sailors. Or at least that is how they look to me.

In Saint Anne we met up with a number of cruisers we knew and participated in what cruising in the islands is all about – socializing. Moving around to different “neighborhoods” the field of neighbors is wide. Our days of hiking may be over, renting a car is more our speed, but swimming, snorkeling and dining out keeps us busy as ever. For me the icing on the cake was that cruisers from four boats could get together and play somewhat harmonic sounds, AKA music. Thanks to Sweet Caroline who provided a venue, we gathered on a Saturday night, watched a green flash, sang some songs, had some munchies, played some music and socialized in Paradise. Just as it should be.

It’s the day after Thanksgiving. Although you would not know it here in Antigua. The Pilgrims never landed here, there is no Plymouth Rock, and turkeys are hard to find. Christopher Columbus landed here on his second voyage in 1493. He named the place Santa Maria de la Antigua after a church in Spain. The Caribs, the locals at the time, apparently were not welcoming so no feast was served. It took another 130 years before English settlers came here and grew tobacco. I guess everyone needed a smoke. Sugar eventually became the major crop and Rum was not far behind. Is that the evolution of food? The English nemesis, the French, never really threatened the island but that didn’t stop the English from building the ubiquitous forts and defenses found around the island. Today English Harbor is a World Heritage site and a Rum brand. The Rum was started by a Portuguese Family.  Gigantic Cruise Ships call St. John and tourism and resorts, including cruiser like us, dominate the economy.

There are no yellow/orange fall foliage displays nor is it Black Friday, the insane day when stuff must be bought. But there are indications of changing seasons. The Rainy Season is ending and the Trades are starting to pick up. The Hurricanes have ended. BTW- there were no named storms in the Lesser Antilles this year. Tell that to your boat insurance salesmen!

Other indicators are that Christmas Décor is sprouting and has been for weeks. Tourists are arriving, escaping the Northern Winter while cruisers are planning where they will be for the Christmas/New Years celebrations. Each island has their own vibe. As usual we will fly to New York at that time to visit family and friends and hope for no snow delays at the airport. Two weeks in New York at Christmas time suffices our desire for a cold winter. On our return to the islands, the 85 degree sea water temperature thaws us out sufficiently to continue on.

Our sail up from Trinidad, the last leg – St Lucia to Antigua – was uneventful. Just like we like. It was pleasant enough without the drama of neither mal content weather or boat parts. We made the quick jump up here for two reasons. The first was that Laura and Drew flew down to stay with us for five days. The second was to join in with the 80 boats or so of the Salty Dawg Caribbean Rally that arrive mid-November.

We think Laura and Drew (daughter and son-in-law) had a great time. It was their first time down on Kalunamoo in the Caribbean. Swimming, snorkeling, restaurants and chilling out were the main activities. Boat living is an acquired taste and, like our other two daughters, may not be in their retirement plans. But like we say, whatever floats your boat. But it was great having them here and wish we could get the three daughters, three son-in-laws and seven grandkids down but we definitely would need a bigger boat for that.

The Salty Dawgs did arrive over a two week period. Weather delays and diversion to Bermuda – they all sail from the East Coast – spred the fleet out. In addition to a few that we knew on the Rally, other cruisers we knew sailed in. This becomes a big busy social scene. That kept us busy each day and so now, the day after Thanksgiving, we will begin to chill out before flying off to New York (and hopefully not get too chilled).

We did celebrate Thanksgiving with our kids via video, watched the Salty Dawgs small boat regatta and then had a great Turkey dinner at Angie’s Marinaside restaurant.

We will return before the New Year and head south when the winds and tides are favorable. Columbus only made four voyages to the Caribbean. Next year will be our 13th year. The locals are much more friendly now, despite having no Thanksgiving, and so we island hop to places Columbus never did visit. And we can count on no snow falling!

We have been ashore for a month and have adapted to the changed lifestyle. We do realize that our family and friends that live on-the-hard year-round certainly have a different lifestyle than us.  Another month ashore like this and I may have to admit that it is a most novel way to live. Perhaps the best way to explain this is to outline what a typical day is like ashore.

We wake up at our usual time of about 0600 (6 AM). Since we are in the far north, latitude 41 north, the summer sun rises about the same time as we experience it in the islands. What is striking, however, is that most people, unless they march off to work, don’t rise until hours later. We find this odd but accept the fact that these early daylight hours are wasted waiting for the rest of the community to wake up.

Once awake, we check our e-mail, messages, text, social platforms, and news feeds to ensure that the world still exists outside the front door. We are closer to the Center of Everything yet still feel the need to connect with the “outside world”. And yes, there is an actual front door that must be transversed to enter the realm of land-based activities. No sauntering up an open companion way to meet the new day here!

What I don’t check is the National Hurricane Center, the Ocean Prediction Center, Windy, Bouyweather or the local weather station. Nor is there a VHF or a SSB radio to listen to or to log onto. In fact, the weather is essentially disregarded as it appears that it has little impact on life ashore.

Breakfast is nearly the same as aboard, modified to allow the use of local produce. This brings up the topic of food in general, groceries and their storage. Since we sail in well populated islands, groceries are not an issue unless anchored in an off-beat area or sail on  long sea passages. There are many, if not more, supermarkets here as there are in the more popular islands. The “fresh markets” that are ubiquitous on most islands can be found here as well and known as “farmers markets”. But to me they seem less utilitarian; they seem more of a marketing opportunity than part of a functional distribution system. In any case the variety and amount of available products everywhere is outstanding. The local mail boat is replaced by 18 wheelers that bring supplies on a daily basis. No need to wait a week for that bell pepper.

Storage, of course, is essentially unlimited. This includes frozen and temperature-controlled storage. One could imagine only needing to do a provision run maybe two or three times a YEAR while living ashore!

But how on earth would one transport such a load to their abode on land? Simple. The dinghy, AKA a sports utility vehicle, can easily haul a truck load of provisions and back right up to the abode’s side port for easy unloading. Clearly an advantage of living on the hard.

Navigation on the roads is as simple as using the chart plotter. The auto pilot has not been perfected yet so manual steering is still used. I still miss switching the auto pilot on as soon as I clear the berth, i.e. the driveway. What is needed however,  is an AIS system that can identify the A-holes that think they are driving an AC75 foiling monohull on a three-lane expressway. Maybe someday these land dwellers with get with the 21^st century.

Since we are living with our daughter on Long Island there is the ocean and beach nearby. Not quite like jumping in the water a few feet from the breakfast table, it does however serve the purpose of satisfying a body’s yearning for sand between the toes and saltwater bathing.

One of the many odd things I noticed was the relationship with the local flora. We spend a considerable expense each year hauling Kalunamoo out of the water to address the flora and assorted members of the subclass Cirripedia arthropod known as barnacles. As benign as they are, and the seagrass that also accumulates on the hull, they are anything but attractive. They can slow the boats progress thru the water like a flat tire on a car. To combat this the hull is painted with elements that they despise but time is on their side. Months may go by, but they eventually win out. They are physically evicted in situ which does wonders for developing your underwater skills, but is still a chore nonetheless.

Oddly, on land, it seems just the opposite. Grass is actually encouraged, fertilized and cultivated along with, admittedly, attractive foliage and flowers. This surrounds the abode but then demands attention and requires the chore of cutting, pruning and ritual “pulling of the weeds”. Encourage growth, then slaughter? Proponents of such endeavors unabashedly call this gardening. Sore backs, and bad knees seem like the only reward to me. It’s not like their abode can move any faster once all that work is accomplished. But, as they say, whatever floats your boat.

The sun sets here at an unreasonable hour in the summer, nearly at cruisers midnight. I suppose one can adapt but by then I’m ready to turn in. Lacking the gentle rocking of the cabin, dreams of grounding dominate my thoughts. I do take solace in the knowledge that we won’t drag, and I don’t worry about waking to a roll 7 level in the morning. 

Our time here has also been marked by visiting many of our favorite doctors. Their probing and prodding indicate that, given the right medicines, diets and exercise, we will return next summer. In that sense, I feel we are getting our medical insurance money’s worth. We return to Kalunamoo in a few weeks just as the summer winds down here; before the leaves turn yellow, the snow flies, and multiple layers of clothing are required. We will miss the family and friends and certainly look forward to our next visit despite their novel lifestyle. I hope the above primer helps those liveaboard cruisers to adjust to visits to shore, either their ancestral homelands or just to shake some barnacles off their memories. The photos of our summer’s ‘tween voyages include family and friends, grandkids ball games, upstate visits and other diversions.