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The first thing I do in the morning is wipe the galley counters down with a disinfectant.  A germ freak, I am not.  But the reality of four people and a cat crammed onto a small boat is this:  the litter box (in the bathroom)  is only three feet away from the galley and it’s proven impossible to prevent the cat from climbing up and soiling the countertops in the middle of the night.  Yes - I am wiping kitty litter off of the countertops every morning.  

The corollary to this is that there is also frequently the stench of cat business wafting in close proximity to galley and salon where we eat our meals.   If the four humans did not smell almost as bad as the bathroom, we’d be pretty miserable.  As it is, since we can shower only once a week or so, and since we wear the same clothes over and over because laundry facilities are rare and expensive, we are able to cope nicely with the medley of aromas that surround us at the dining table. 

I sweep, usually twice daily, our sixty square feet of floorspace below.  It’s good to keep the millions of cat hairs, that hover in the air, circulating. 

Jasper and Georgia are paid to swat flies below decks.  They earn ten cents for every fly they swat.  The most they have earned in one afternoon is $7.40.

We are vigilant in keeping all cardboard off the boat to prevent cockroach infestation.  So far, so good.  Unfortunately, we did not realize that beach sand can be just as invasive a pest.  Despite vigorous shampooing, a tenecious colony is alive and well in Jasper’s hair.

Leaving Staniel Cay tomorrow and heading further up the Exuma chain toward Nassau.  See ya’ll soon.

Okay, I admit it.  I’m counting.  We are in the Bahamas and yes, it really is paradise.  The water is extrordinarily clear – we can clearly see sand dollars on the bottom at least twenty feet down.  The temperature was 88 today, but the ocean breeze kept us cool.  We’ve had moderate sailing conditions and we’ve been meeting friends along the way (also from Maine – what gives?).   We are currently on the tiny island of Little Farmer’s Cay, a remote sandy outpost with houses painted the same turquoise blue as the water.  And we are, at this moment, hanging out at Ocean Cabin, the only restaurant on the island, enjoying the company of owner Terry, while co-owner Evangeline is making our dinner.  We are the only people here tonight – the Bahamas, while chock full of cruisers during the winter, completely clears out by this time of year and both anchorages and islands have been uncrowded, including the popular Georgetown.  I’ve been really enjoying the Bahamian scenery and people.  But, I, like the kids, am a little homesick.  As beautiful as this island is, I asked John today, as we walked around, if it didn’t remind him of Frenchboro in Penobscot Bay?  It did.

So, while we make our way north to Nassau, and wrestle with how to by groceries in grocery stores that have very little on the shelves (see Jasper’s blog – he’s not exaggerating), I feel a little like a horse I road long ago that refused to keep pace the entire ride, until we turned for home – he practically killed me galloping back to the barn.

Barbuda flaunts pink sand around its borders.  It’s not screaming pink, mind you, but has a subtle very pretty pink tinge if you look at it properly.  It’s lovely.  One of the cool things about cruising this area of the world is the unusual natural phenomena that I’ve been able to see, most for the first time in my life.   Here are some, in no particular order, as well as where I saw them:

Double rainbow – I’ve seen these before, one large arc over another smaller arc, but they were larger, clearer and lasted longer when I saw them frequently in Tortola.

Extremely bright psychedelic rainbow – surreal colors that both John and I agreed looked like the kids had drawn it with magic markers.  Seen inPrince Rupert Bay, Dominica.

Moonbow – I had no idea that such a thing was possible until I saw one in Dominica (Prince Rupert Bay again).  No colors, just an ethereal white.  John claims silver.

Green clouds – caused by the reflection of the waters around Antigua and Barbuda.  Somthing right out of the Emerald City.  Beautiful.

Green flash – of sailing lore and a much sought after experience by tourists.  If you have a cloudless sunset and are patient, the sunlight actually does turn emerald green for a second prior to disappearing over the horizon.  I’ve caught it a few times, the best was in Nevis.

Natural hot tub – right next to the cold Layli River, Dominica.  You must swim across the river to get in the hot tub (hot water heated by volcanic activity under the earth) and then after you are toasty, jump back in the cold water and swim back.

And of course, the active volcano on Montserrat was very cool, even from a couple of miles away.

When we left from Les Saintes for Pointe a Pitre, on the main island of Guadeloupe, it was blowing 20 with six foot swells and chop.  We were on a beam reach, more or less, and regularly getting spray in the cockpit.  Occasionally, if one sat on the upwind side, you got smacked in the back of the head with a little wave – just the Caribbean Sea’s reminder of who’s boss.  We had all taken our sea sickness meds (okay, not John), and no one suffered much. 

When we reached Pointe a Pitre and the River Salee, I had a bit of deja vu.  The area was so sheltered, that the wind dropped to nothing.  And the water, instead of the typical Caribbean blue, was green.  We anchored below the first bridge on the river, just ouside the channel, and were surrounded by shores of smallish green trees punctuated with office buildings and industrial cranes.   Sheltered rivers? Bridges?  Green water?  Small trees?  We hadn’t seen these things since the Chesapeake.  We felt tucked in and safe  – no risk of the anchor dragging here.  We were in a true Caribbean hurricane hole.  The trees lining the shore were the famous mangrove trees, dangling their rooty tips into the water like a swimmer who wants to test the temperature before taking the plunge.  These trees make great buffers in hurricanes, and sailors love to tie up close to them if a storm is imminent. 

As the kids were going to bed, Georgia came out and told me, quietly, that her bunk was wet.  I mean soaked.  How on earth?  Did we have a leak?  Upon investigation, I found, no, there was no leak.  SOMEONE had forgotten to close the portal on the starboard bow when we went for our brisk, wet sail that morning.  Hmmm. 

I broke it to the captain gently, but if there’s one thing he can’t stand, it’s salt water in the cabin.  At a minimum, it means laundry, because any material soaked in saltwater will never dry unless the salt is washed out first.  And laundry on a boat is a pain in the rear (lack of water, etc.).  Looking at John, I saw the clouds rolling in, looking dark and threatening.  So, I headed for my own hurricane hole, the head, where I brushed my teeth for twenty minutes or so, until the wind died down. 

Fortunately, the following morning brought real squalls with rain.  Tons of it.  So while John and I reviewed the messy details of crew responsibilities,  Georgia’s sheets, draped over the boom, were washed and dried within a few hours.

Today is day six in Portsmouth, Dominica, and we have been very busy.  Dominica is a true jungle island with active volcanoes, over 300 rivers, and rainforests.  Upon arriving, yachts are met with local guides known as “boat boys” who simply bust themselves to take care of you while you visit.  They arrange and guide all sorts of tours (Dominica is a big island – there are a lot of beautiful attractions), as well as getting your garbage and laundry taken care of.  On Saturday nights, they put together a “cruisers’ barbeque” on the beach, complete with a killer rum punch made with exotic fruit juices and locally made rum. 

The gentleman who has been our guide here is named Martin.  He possesses a ridiculous amount of information about flora, fauna, herbal medicines, Dominican history and cooking.  As long as the kids hang around Martin, there’s no need for homeschooling.  We are trying some of the unfamiliar local produce (today I made a green papaya salsa – yum) and pretty much making meals of mangoes, papaya, bananas, cheese and bread.  To my delight, the weather is encouraging us to stay put here for at least another week, and John has been so busy, that he seems content to stay.  

We hope we are here long enough to have the kids make some local friends.   The owner of one of the beach restaurants (Big Papa’s) has a ten year old son, whom Jasper met today on the beach, and Martin has a ten year old daughter, whom we hope Georgia will meet tonight at the barbeque.  

We planned Dominica as our “turning point”, knowing that there are many islands further south that would be wonderful to visit, but not wanting to squeeze too much in.  We hope to revisit some of our favorite spots on the return trip, including Guadeloupe and St. Martin, delving further into what those islands are all about.

Getting the hook set in Terre de Haut was difficult.  The harbor is quite crowded, there is a wide ferry channel, the holding is not particularly good (very hard sand and weeds) and the harbor is deep – it drops off quickly to about forty feet right off shore. 

Upon our arrival, we spent a good hour circling the harbor and then attempting to squeeze into a “hole” between some boats close to shore in about 15 feet of water.  Too tight.  After the fifth or sixth attempt to get the anchor down there, we abandoned it for a spot in about 50 feet for the night.  We rolled pretty badly all night, so first thing in the morning, we were at it again, trying to find a good spot.  We then had another four or so tries before, after a final dive on the anchor, John declared us “all set”. 

One thing we have learned is that most folks don’t dive on their anchors to make sure that the anchors are actually buried and not just hung up on something.  We watched two boats slowly drag through the harbor – their owners actually aboard and sitting obliviously in the cockpit – because their anchors had never set properly.  John always snorkels or dives on the anchor and it certainly makes us feel more secure. 

Once the hook was down for good, the real fun began.  We are once again in a French port with all the great things that go with it.  Good food, beautiful boutiques, and the opportunity to  practice our French.  At this point in the trip, I could care less if I ever see another beach.   Hanging out in town, taking notice of the native architecture,  listening to the locals and enjoying good food are my thing. 

We did a short hike to Fort St. Louis this morning and enjoyed beautiful views and photographed some iguanas.  Right now, John is “supping” (stand-up-paddle board) around the harbor, I’m writing, and the kids are listening to Selina Gomez.  We are heading back to town when the shops reopen at 4 pm for bread for dinner – John’s goat stew recipe. Something for everyone in Isles de Saintes.

Yes, a 75 mile journey yesterday, but not requiring a night watch for me, so I wasn’t too uncomfortable.  Not that I was sleeping when we left at 4 a.m., but at least I wasn’t on watch alone, which is something I have yet to find enjoyable.  John picked a good weather window;  although the seas were “bouncy”, I’m guessing 8-9 ft., they were on the beam, which meant the motion was tolerable, even belowdecks for short periods of time.  I was at the helm for a good squall with 30 knot gusts - a bit nerve-racking, but uneventful in the end.   It is quite nice on a long passage to always have land in sight – passing Montserrat at the half-way point meant that by the time we lost sight of Nevis, Montserrat was in sight and by the time Montsearrat disappeared, Guadeloupe loomed ahead.   

Our current home, Deshaies, is absolutely adorable.  Very French, very small.  One tiny white church with a bell that chimes the hours.  The one disappointment is that the boulangerie/patisserie recently closed here, but the grocery stores have good bread and there is a young man who sells pastry from his dinghy in the mornings so we are not suffering.  There is an abundance of restaurants in this tiny town, all seemingly reasonably priced.  So we are planning an evening out tonight to check out the local fare.  There is, happily, a real butcher in town that we are looking forward to visiting.  Hamburger in a tube, the usual meat you find in Caribbean grocery stores, always looks suspect to me.

Well, believe it or not, I just had to take a break to jump into the dinghy with an extremely agitated John to prevent a large catamaran from demolishing the boat behind us when its anchor dragged.  Georgia would like to blog about it, so I won’t say any more, except that it truly doesn’t get any more dramatic than that.

We have been hanging out in Nevis for a few days, waiting for the wind to shift so we can have a comfortable sail to Guadeloupe.  The wait has been very pleasant.  Nevis, the sister island to the more populated St. Kitts, fits our style.  A gorgeous, lush island, few tourists, deserted beaches, beach bars that are kid friendly and have wi-fi.  If the allure of French food were not so strong, we could definately hang out here a bit longer.   We took a tour of the island by taxi.  It included a chance to roam around inside the various resort hotels on the island – all renovated sugar mill plantations.  We have decided the one we’ll stay at when we fly back here for a vacation one day.  

We continue to meet interesting sailors and have found another “kid boat” to play with here, Tango II.   I continue to be impressed with the variety of people that are drawn to this life and the reasons they decided to “leave it all behind”.   Dinner conversations, although myopically boat centered, are always really interesting and encourage us all to stay up past bedtime.

We plan to be up by 3:30 a.m. tomorrow for our passage.  We will be passing Montserrault en route, hoping to get a good look at its active volcano.

The Christmas winds have been making themselves a nuisance lately, so we have not only been in St. Martin longer than John would like, but we’ve been unable to really dinghy anywhere for a good explore.  So a couple of days ago, we took the “bus” (sort of a van) over to another bay reputed to have a good beach.  Crew from Starbound joined us and we spent a couple of pleasant hours watching the kids play and eating snacks. 

John made a point of taking Jasper for a walk down the beach.  The attraction?  Topless ladies in all their glory.  The fact that my son claims he is bored here, is a telling indicator of his maturity level, indeed.

We were not in any particular rush to hoof it back to the bus, when we were startled by a woman tossing a bag of garbage out of her upper floor window onto the beach, not twenty feet from us.   It looked, mostly, like her used toilet tissue.  John’s memorable summation of our mutual reaction – “When people start to throw garbage at you, you know it’s time to leave the beach!”   Welcome to the third world.

After an uneventful 18 hour passage from the BVI’s, we are safely ensconced in Marigot, St. Martin.  This side of the island is French and I am loving it.  We’re talking boulangerie fresh bread, croissants, amazing cheese, wine, etc.  Even better is that we have friends here – Starbound, Aurora and new friends from Bonzai I- that are making our stay here terrific fun.  Today, I spent the morning having cappuccino aboard Starbound, and then headed with friend Heather to the organic farm run by Rasta Farians (known as the Rasta Farm), just a couple of miles from here.  A beautiful young lady in a rasta headress headed into the gardens to cut fresh greens for us, carrying a woven basket, while another gentleman explained the medicinal properties of native plants to us.  Picked up some fresh arugula, papaya, turnips, parsley, bok choy and tomatoes.   John went to the local grocery to buy “good cheese” and wine.  The eating will be good tonight.  I’m thinking roasted vegetable and goat cheese pizza. 

We plan to be in St. Martin for another week or so.  The next weather window for moving islands will not be until the 22nd according to our weather source, Chris Parker.  That’s fine with me – staying here for months would probably be pleasant.  Although, more A-sitting than John could probably handle.

The only drawback to the island is spotty internet coverage.  The cruisers have scoped it out, and the best place we’ve found so far is the little bar/cafe that I am currently inhabiting, a Caribe beer on the table.  We’ve been warned that the internet coverage down-island will only get worse and  that it’s terrible in the Bahamas.   So family and friends will have to be patient when they are waiting for those return e-mails for the next few months!