The First Catch

The night before parting from Pitons, I caught a yellowtale snapper, large enough to feed two people. The captain doesn’t eat fish, so the admiral ate it all. It is better for sailors to have too much than not enough wind. If it is blowing to hard, you can shortened the sails, but you can not add more wind to them, if the Nature doesn’t supply it. Waiting for wind can be very testy. Being the admiral, she thinks she has a lot of rights. For instance, to decide, how many sails should be added to those, that are already flip-flopping in the calm air, but wavy sea. Now, captain is a wise man. He does what he wants and at the end of the day still gets a good meal. Admiral is also the cook. There was little wind starting from St. Lucia to Bonaire. And yet, the captain and the admiral are still sharing the cabin. And the boat, for that matter. The third day the clouds appear on the East horizon. The wind is coming! The water is changing the colour, it seems darker now, laced with so much white. We are moving fast, accompanied by dolphins for a while, and all the time by the sailfish, shining in the bright sun. If the wind keeps, we’ll be within the sight of Bonaire in another night and a day. What a thrill, when the boat reaches the speed of 11 knots. But it is night and there is no debate this time, the main sail has to be shortened. The waves are big, the mizzen sail is keeping the boat steady. We are enjoying the ride. With little sleep behind us we hook up to the mooring in front of Kralenjdijk. About time, last night the captain ran out of beer. P.S. Rum comes out of the hiding place.

Jarule

After an easy sail from Rodney Bay we are on the mooring between the two Pitons, St. Lucia's pride area and Marine park. Footprints did not spoil the rake design on the beach yet. The season is coming to it's high, and yet the secluded expensive resort Jalousie is quiet, heavy wooden lounge chairs underneath the straw umbrellas empty. In a poor economy, necessities are replacing the pleasures. It is blowing hard, the gusts are shaking the boat from time to time. But the resort is tucked underneath one of the Pitons and is not effected by the angry side of the Nature. We sailed into the bay mid day yesterday and I waited for the fruit and vegetable man, but he never came. Jarule supplied us with fresh produce time and time again. He made a 12 miles run from Soufriere every day in his small wooden boat, loaded with mangoes, papayas, chrystophenes, yams and more. Dressed in rags, his hair braided long ago, big smile showing the teeth, that look like an old cemetery, and his voice so deep, when he talks, you are expecting to hear an echo. I inquired about him and sadly learned, that he is 'out of the water'. We are staying here one more night. We already plotted our route to Bonaire. After talking to other sailors and reading a couple of articles about cruising in Venezuela, we are avoiding the country all together. Reports of many attacks on sailors, some deadly, scared us away. Why take chances, when there are so many beautiful areas elsewhere. We have 434 NM of easy down the wind sail to Bonaire and we are looking forward to that. So see you there!

Dogs's Rules

Friday night is the Gros Islet feast. The tables and the benches are dragged from the sidewalk to the street. Containers and pots filled to the top with food placed on the serving tables. A plate full of rice, beans, vegetables, fish and chicken is inexpensive and music is to loud. The dogs move closer to the benches and wait their turn. They don't fight over the leftovers. They are street dogs, to them the rule no chicken and no fish does not apply. Crushed bones disappear in seconds. When the party is over, the dogs rest until next Friday. And we go 'home' to play cards and sip Rum.

Boat Yard Jungle and Siesta

Conch

Our cleaning lady Helen didn't come to work. Julia was here instead and she told us: Helen's son died, diving for conch. He was pulled out of the water and rushed to the hospital, but it was to late, even though the hospitals on St. Lucia now have decompression chambers. He was 34 years old and had a wife and four sons to take care of. He had a job, that didn't pay enough, so he was diving for conch for extra earnings. We were told, that a lot of young men loose their lives diving too deep without proper equipment. It is a dangerous job, that doesn't pay much. If you would like to buy a conch, don't bargain. It has a price tag on, that is more valuable than a beautiful shell.