February 13 - March 31

The Caribbean Islands

It took just 14 days to sail from Cape Verde islands (San Vicente) to Barbados, a distance of 2100 nautical miles. [Click here to see the map].

About half way across, while taking off my harness in the cockpit, a freak wave slewed the yacht and we rounded toward the wind, causing the spinnaker pole to slam violently against the lower forestay. The stay was fine, but the pole made a right-angle bend around the stay, with the force of the flapping genoa.

Drats. Now I was worried about my rendezvous with Tes in only a weeks time. Without a spinnaker pole, the genoa was flapping and we had to reduce sail area, and hence the boat speed. In my rest time after that watch, I jumped out of bed, thinking 'Eureka!'. I had an idea to lash the pole ends together with a rope and spent the next few hours making the repair. We tried it out and it worked! I would still be able to meet Tes' flight.

We arrived in Bridgetown in Barbados and were mesmerised by the brilliant clear, green water. Chris had a few more days on the boat and helped me up the mast to take off the shroud clamp which had a crack in the weld. Then he left to stay in a hotel and look for other options to continue his travels separately from Tes and I.

Finally the day arrived when I would meet Tes at the airport. I turned up early, and the flight was delayed. When all the people disembarked, I was dismayed that Tes wasn't on the flight. I phoned her mobile and she answered, still in Spain. She had spent the night in Madrid airport after flying in from Vigo, and almost burst into tears when told her ticket wasn't valid. I'd booked her the ticket, but it needed confirmation of the credit card by fax. I'd misunderstood the Spanish email and now Tes was stuck in Madrid. So I desperately ran around at night to find an open internet cafe, then booked another flight from the same website for the following day. The company still would not confirm my booking, but Tes was able to phone them and paid for it.

At last she arrived at Bridgetown airport, early. I was sitting there making her a welcome sign when she snuck up behind me and covered my eyes. Suddenly we were together again. Wow!

Days floated past, swimming, doing yoga on the beach, looking around the town and being together. We took some day trips on local buses to see some tropical gardens and beaches around the island. One night we went to Oistens beach for a 'fish fry' and saw some local karaoke talent on an outdoor stage. The minibus ride back was fun, packed with people, 4 to a row on bench seats, by 4 rows and the drivers cabin. Reggae hip hop music burst from large speakers inside the bus. The bass was so distorted and loud that vibrations were felt through the seats. The bus had small blue LED lights on the roof, and passengers were nodding their heads in time to the music. When cruising past bus stops, the driver pulsed the brakes so that the bus seemed to dance in time with the music beats. We were experiencing the way music intertwines with everyday life in the Caribbean.

Tes is a natural kind of person, and suggested we go camping on the island, with just a ground blanket and another for a top cover. We caught a bus to Sam Lords castle, an abandoned resort with a beach. Arriving just after dark, I had no idea where we would camp. We watched the glowing lights from fireflies hovering around some bushes in a field.
Then, after fossicking around, we entered through a hole in a fence into the grounds of the castle. I found a soft patch of high grass, sheltered from the wind, and we ate some pasta salad for dinner. It was an uncomfortable sleep for me and in the morning my back ached.

I walked around early and found an access to the private beach and wandered through the abandoned ruins of the resort. Tes loved those kinds of places, as she'd lived in abandoned houses before, when out of money, enjoying her freedom and finding her own simple style to live. We explored the ruins and trecked down to the deserted beach for a swim, admiring the view of white sand, coconut trees and ruined castle above.

Roaming around there triggered some nostalgia for Tes - her previous independence, living in squats, missing her network of friends in Tenerife, her Galacian culture and speaking more easily in her own language. Plus, she had renewed feelings for a guy from a past relationship.
Now she was in intimate solitude with me and unfortunately she fell out of love. It was a disappointment for me, because I was very much in love with her and positive about a bright future together.

I had new troubles with Chris now. He met us one day and told me he wanted to go to Venezuela as we had originally discussed. Much had changed since we considered that option, and we had since decided to continue together as far as the Caribbean.

I had talked with Tes earlier, to offer taking Cris to the next island, Bequia, where there were many other yachts. He might join one there to cruise with, if he had no luck finding a ride from here. But four more weeks with him to Venezuela was stretching my hospitality too far.
He said as captain, I was legally responsible for his exit from Barbados and that he'd take it to the police if I refused to take him to Venezuela.

Unfortunately, Chris was within his rights. When I went to immigration to remove him from the crew list, the senior officer told me in heavy terms that I had to buy him a plane ticket back to his home country or my yacht would be impounded. Reluctantly, after verifying the legalities in writing (with a minister of Barbados parliament), I bought Cris's air ticket out.

I was relieved to be free from my crew, but paid dearly for the privacy with Tes that we had deserved. Only now she wanted to return home too.

The fares from Barbados to Spain were horrendous, and it was around half the price from Caracas. So I suggested she continue to Venezuela with me, and give the relationship a bit more of a chance. I certainly couldn't handle paying two airfares to Europe within the same week, and Tes couldn't afford her own ticket herself as she'd spent nearly everything in coming over to be with me. She decided to stay till Margarita, in Venezuela. At least she would see a few more of the Caribbean islands.

We sailed to Bequia island, a comfortable overnight trip and arrived in Port Elizabeth, which was packed with visiting yachts. Amazingly, I saw the yacht Freya moored there, looking in very good condition. Freya was the original timber yacht which Weatherly was designed on, and she had won the Sydney to Hobart yacht race 3 times, so is quite a famous Australian yacht. Unfortunately no one was aboard. I would have loved to have a chat with the owners about her.

Bequia is a little island with a small market and a few yacht repair shops, where I had my mainsail stitched. We found the only pool table on the island, in very poor condition, in a rustic bar run by a friendly old lady. I found some relaxation time with Tes together there, after struggling unsuccessfully to pay my insurance premium for Weatherly. It is a risk for me to be uninsured against 3rd party liabilities, and luckily Dad came to my rescue to pay it through an Australian bank office.

Next we sailed to St Vincent island and anchored in an idyllic cove called Cumberland bay with a small beach where we played palas. Reggae music blurted out all night from a small concrete night club ashore, as seemed typical of many places we anchored in the Caribbean.

The next day we re-anchored and walked up to a waterfall and small stream. It was an enjoyable scene with local families having a picnic and children squealing from under the waterfall. We cooled off in a small pool in the stream and walked back down through the fertile valley, patting a curious donkey in a pasture on the way.

We arrived at Kingstown bay at night and went ashore the next day. Being a Sunday, it was deserted and had a spooky feel to it with derelicts and drunks wandering around. In the morning when I was running the fridge, I was surprised to see a large pair of black jackboots step on the deck and, looking up, even more surprised to see the bearer carrying a very large automatic rifle. Eek, pirates! Nope, just the local coast guard, wanting me to fill in a form with crew and yacht's particulars or if we were carrying any weapons! He told us it would be safer to anchor around the corner, where the tourist beaches are. Safer from whom?

We moved away and anchored off the tourist resort beach, surrounded by lovely islands and rocky cliffs off a peaceful shady beach. An overweight police escort took care of us when walking from the beach up a very steep hill to catch the bus to Kingstown. The island used to have problems with theft, as some of the islanders are very poor, but the police presence has resolved the trouble there.

We sailed on to Canaoun island, and tried to check if the flight booking was confirmed after faxing details from Kingstown. I was surprised at the cost of vegetables there, $8 for a cabbage for example.

Next was the charming little island of Mayreau, where we befriended some local boat boys, Limmo, Glenmore and Danny, who help incompetent sailors to anchor yachts in the tight but beautiful Saltwhistle Bay. They found Tes and I to be natural, friendly and interested in them, and they came over to play drums with Tes and offered some joints, though I can't inhale smoke myself. They returned later with a lobster and taught me how to cook it - 20minutes in a pot of boiling water and then bake in the oven with garlic and butter smeared over the lobster halves. It was delicious. We shared my remaining beers and wine with them and then accompanied them to town to a small dance bar for a 'party'.

The next night they barbequed another lobster for us on the beach, and played their drums with Caribbean flair and energy while Tes danced in the sand and enjoyed smoking pot with them. Afterwards they took us to a karaoke for singing and more dancing.

The next day we moved on, to the Tobago Cays, considered to be the jewel of the Grenadines.

The colours are fantastic there - a brilliant green / turquoise water meeting a light blue sky and shimmering white sandy beaches. We anchored just away from the main islands where every other boat was anchored, and went snorkelling around the coral looking at colourful little fish. I love coral reefs and wanted to see more, so went off again on my own, later in the afternoon, getting spooked when 3 medium sized reef sharks cruised through the reef near me.

The next morning we visited the reefs again (away from where I saw the sharks) and then visited another island where there are turtles. We saw one and then several sting rays on the bottom. After playing palas (tennis with paddle bats) we sailed around the reef strip to a deserted island, Tabac Island, for two nights.

It was a lovely tropical island and we were graced by a pink sunset with the sun dropping down through 2 islands to the sea. We could hear birds calling from the island and the lagoon was well protected from the wave swell. The best place in the Tobago Cays, for sure, and we had it to ourselves !
We went ashore in the morning and did some yoga and Tai Chi, walked around the tropical island, looking at shells, had a swim, showered and lay on the warm cushions in the cockpit. I felt this was one of the perfect times I've had on my yacht. A true paradise island, lovely water, sunshine and reefs, and sharing it all with a beautiful woman.

We motored out in the dinghy and snorkelled off another reef system, called egg reef, but found the coral and fish to be more plentiful and easier to see from the small reef only 50metres from the yacht. There were fantastic little black fish with irridescent purple and deep blue spots, other little yellow ones with the front half light blue. It was great swimming together, sometimes hand in hand.
I loved it in this paradise here and would have enjoyed staying there longer, but time was drawing near for Tes to catch her flight home. It was over for her, and she only wanted to return to her previous life in Spain.

We sailed to Union island and cleared formalities from the St Vincent and Grenadines country. It was a very small island and town, but typical of Caribbean character, with small pastel huts in blues, green, yellow and pink, selling fruit, alcohol or clothes etc.

The next country was Grenada, and we anchored in Prickly Bay and cleared in and out from a little wooden shack on the side of the bay. We missed the business hours by 1 minute so were punished $20 fee for our slow walking.

One day we took a bus to see some wonderful waterfalls, and had the gorgeous pool and falls to ourselves. The guide there was hustling me to pay extra for an adrenaline tour which required leaping down a series of waterfalls into pools, but I was happier (and able to afford) just indulging in the beauty of the main falls, swimming in the pool and drying on the rocks with Tes.

We bought some local fruit from a street vendor, called something like sofadillas. They taste like caramel with a sugary texture, easy to partition and delicious to eat.

My friend Mario caught 2 nice fish and gave them to us just as we were preparing to leave Grenada. We motored through the masses of yachts in Prickly Bay in the dark and sailed through the night for a small island off Venezuela, called Islas Testigos.