Grenadine Sunsets

Let me start out by confessing that I’m a little torn here. I want to rave about a really cool place we just cruised. My problem is, if I tell you, you may actually go there. It could get crowded; maybe you’ll take my anchor spot. Pretty soon there’s a floating McDonalds where my favorite snorkeling reef used to be. I’m sure you understand. So, before we go any further, I want you to promise you won’t take my anchor spot. Okay, now that we’ve got that covered, I’ve got one word for you – Grenadines.

The Grenadines are the jewels of the Windward Islands in the eastern Caribbean. They are that little chain of islands between St. Vincent and Grenada. I’ve wanted to go there since I first sailed in the Caribbean in the 70’s. In my idealistic youth, I imagined the Grenadines as an uninhabited paradise of little bays with virgin reefs and nary a mini mall. When I finally arrived there this winter, I discovered that they were, in fact, inhabited, but I was dead on about the paradise of little bays, virgin reefs, and scarcity of mini malls. I figure three out of four is pretty good, and, truth to tell, I liked the people (let’s face it, someone’s got to sell you ice and rum), so maybe it’s really four out of four.

I like to fantasize that my wife Erinann and I are in year three of our "round the world" cruise with our six month old son, Finn. To add some drama to the fantasy, we could pretend that Finn was born at sea during a hurricane, while we were enroute to the Grenadines. No such luck. In actuality, Finn was born in a hospital and I’m a working stiff that’s been toughing it out in Seattle all winter, where it rained for 105 days straight (I wish I were lying, but it’s the honest to God truth). So, you can bet your last pair of dry underwear that we were mighty happy to step off the plane into the bright sunshine and warm winds of St. Vincent at the end of February. We’d booked a Fountain-Pajot Venzia 42 Catamaran for two weeks with TMM bare boat Charters and we were looking forward to every second of it. After a gazillion hours of flying with a small child, we were very grateful to check into the Blue Lagoon hotel and connect up with our good friends John and Rosie, Jake and Kim, and my sisters Marta and Laurie. Conveniently, our room sat virtually on top of TMM’s charter operation and overlooked the dock where "Echo", our Venzia 42, awaited us. Talk about a view!

TMM (Tortola Marine Management www.sailtmm.com) charters out of Blue Lagoon Bay at the south end of St. Vincent and is a medium size charter company. They’ve got other charter operations in Belize and the BVI, but they’re not so big that they only know you by your booking number. TMM arranged for our hotel, provisions, special boat accommodations for our infant, and even suggested appropriate airline flights. After umpteen e-mail conversations with the St. Vincent Manager, John West, it was more like arriving at an old friend’s boat, than just being tossed on a catamaran and given a set of keys. Before we took off John, gave us the most thorough captain’s briefing I’ve ever received before a charter. He told us what anchorages were the best, where to anchor within each anchorage, which snorkling spots were hot, which bars to go to, which bars to avoid, the best food, the best people, the best place to buy ice and rum, the best everything. Wow, how does he know all this stuff? He’s been there a long time, that’s how. The best part was that he was dead right about everything.

Having never been on a Venzia 42 before, I was most pleased with our temporary home. The main salon was very roomy, the four queen sized births were extremely comfortable, the cockpit was more than adequate to hold our crew of eight, and even proved capable of taking on sixteen during party time. One thing that was especially appreciated on Echo was the galley being in the main salon, instead of down in one of the hulls. This allowed the cook to party down with the other crazy’s in the cockpit and still get some cooking done. Since no one wanted to be left out (but we all wanted to eat) I would have to count the well-positioned galley as the most important feature of the boat after the hull and sails.

Another pleasant surprise about Echo was that it was very well maintained. This is no doubt an artifact of TMM’s unusual charter arrangement with their boat owners. Lots of big charter companies get a boat from someone, then agree to maintain that boat, charter it out, and send a fixed portion of the charter money to the owner. That means that maintenance comes out of the charter companies pocket. TMM is almost the opposite of that. When TMM takes on a boat, they charge the owner for slip fees, maintenance costs, turn around costs, etcetera. When the boat charters out, TMM sends the "profits" to the owner after the costs are subtracted. The boat is always ship-shape, because it’s in TMM’s best interest to have the boats working correctly, and the owner is paying for it, not TMM. I’m not sure how the accountants like it, but it makes for a nice boat.

Once we got ourselves all unpacked, our first destination was Britannia Bay on the Island of Mustique. Echo sailed well, doing a handy 11 knots at 50 degrees apparent wind in a 22 knot breeze, making the reach to Mustique a quick and uneventful ride. Mustique is one of those places that you read about in cheesy romance novels and the National Enquirer. It is a private island that caters to the rich and famous. However, they are gracious enough to let us riff-raff gawk at them, provided we are willing to pay the moorage fee (that’s right they won’t let you anchor there, for fear that your cheap-o anchor isn’t solid platinum). That barb tossed, I have to admit that I, too, thought it was pretty cool to hang out in a bar where Mick Jagger and Elton John play the piano on a regular basis. (You thought the rich and famous were Ernest Borgnine and Wayne Newton?)

Mustique is actually a very nice place and is well worth a visit, if for no other reason than to contrast it to the other islands in the Grenadines. Unlike the other islands, which are really not very touristy by American standards, Mustique has nothing but tourists. The entire island is manicured, with the exception of a small village that houses the locals who take care of everything. People drive around in little golf carts and have names like Biff and Muffy (I swear it’s true). The little tourist village is very picturesque, with brightly painted shops selling $200 bathing suits, French pastries, and iced lattes. I believe I can report with near certainty, that there isn’t another island within 500 miles in any direction where you could get a double tall, half skinny, mocha cappacino, with cinnamon sprinkles. If you are in need of such things, then Mustique will become the pivot of your cruising existence. As it happens, I’m more of a beer guy, so we decided to move south to the heart of the Grenadines. Just as well, my wife tells me that they were kind of chintzy on the cinnamon sprinkles.

Our next stop was Salt Whistle Bay on the Island of Mayreau. Salt Whistle Bay is a small but well protected cove on the north end of the island, with a white sand beach and palm trees lining the shore. We pulled in amongst half a dozen other cats and dropped anchor in ten feet of water. About ten minutes after shutting the engines down, a local entrepreneur showed up in his wooden power launch and asked us very politely if we needed any ice or fresh baked bread. We knew then that we had arrived in paradise.

Most of the good anchorages in the Grenadines have locals who frequent them, looking to sell fish, lobster, fruit, jewelry, ice, and fresh baked bread. Unlike a lot of places, the salesmen in the Grenadines will take, "No", for an answer without complaint and will generally not gouge you for their services. The southern Grenadine islands are sparsely populated but the population is very industrious. One of the most impressive things about the southern Grenadines is that, although everyone is an entrepreneur, they are also very glad to give you a hand, and not demand a payment for it. Sadly, it is a trait that has become rare in the Caribbean.

Mustique was the Club Med version of the Caribbean, but Mayreau was the real deal. Mayreau is only about a mile in diameter, but within that mile it manages to charm your socks off with beautiful beaches, a couple of well protected anchorages and wonderful local restaurants. The island only has one short, steep road, which goes from Saline Bay at the south end of the island up to the little town perched on the hillside. A scant 250 people live on the island, but it still manages to have a couple of little grocery stores and four very nice restaurants. One of the best things about Mayreau is its unpretentious atmosphere. I credit this to twin facts: everything is owned by the locals (not a rock star in sight), and the lack of an airport means that the only tourists are other yachties.

Since we were anchored at Salt Whistle Bay, at the north end of the island, we had to take a little dirt trail into town. It was a bit of a steep walk, but presented no problem for a crew that was anxious to get acquainted with the local lobsters smothered in garlic butter. After a short reconnoitering we settled for the night at a restaurant toward the top of the hill called Island Paradise and watched the green flash as the sun slid into the Caribbean. Our wild child, Finn, danced the night away with his, even wilder Aunt Laurie, while the rest of us made sure the local rum distillery would remain a profitable business. As I recall, the entire evening of lobster and drinks ran about $35US each. Even better, most of the restaurants in the Southern Grenadines give the Captain his dinner for free. Now that’s island paradise!

Our next stop was the Tobago Cays, just east of Mayreau. The Tobago Cays are a small group of deserted islands (each one only a few hundred yards long) and they are as picturesque as any spot I have ever tossed a hook. The islands are protected from the Atlantic by Horseshoe Reef, allowing you to anchor on the windward side of Petit Rameau, Petit Bateau, and Baradel Island. The Cays are a national park and their turquoise waters are well worth protecting.

The only safe approach to the Tobago Cays is to round the north end of Mayreau and then head straight for the northern tip of Petit Rameau. Numerous unmarked reefs and coral heads populate the deceptively tranquil waters between Mayreau and the Cays. Much of the danger lies in the fact that the reefs behind the outer Horseshoe Reef have no breaking surf, making them difficult to see, and leading more than one charter captain to empty his bank account on the coral.

When we had safely negotiated the reefs to Petit Rameau, we tacked through the narrow channel between the north end of the island and horseshoe reef. It was one of those sailing experiences every captain loves, where you get to yell, "Ready about! – Now!", every thirty seconds and the crew actually does it. We then ran down the windward side of the island to the main anchorage off Petit Bateau and dropped sail. The main anchorage was a little crowded for my taste, so we took John West’s advice and motored carefully to the windward side of Baradel. We made good use of the Venzia’s four-foot draft, as we anchored far from the pack of monohulls in seven feet of crystal water. Once again it was time for flippers on the feet, a mask on the face, a rum punch in the hand, and a barbecue on the stern (in that order, but not necessarily all at once).

Both the snorkeling and the scuba diving at the Tobago Cays are among the best in the Grenadines. If you’re a beginning snorkeler, then the inside of Horseshoe Reef is well worth the swim. There are huge schools of fish in the shallow waters and my wife even saw her very first octopus. If you’re a more advanced free diver, you can go to the outside of the reef through the dingy pass and enjoy spectacular coral in about 30 feet of water. We also did a couple of scuba dives while at the Cays, both with a Union Island dive operation called Dive Grenadines. Union Island is only a few miles away, so, we simply called Dive Grenadines on the VHF and they brought all the necessary dive gear right to our cat. Excellent diving was so close, that we would be at the reef by the time the dive master could tell us about the day’s dive site. It’s a great way to dive, and there are enough dive shops throughout the Grenadines that it is not worth the hassle of bringing your own dive gear.

When we finally left Tobago Cays, it was very tempting to just head straight south for Union Island and brave the reefs. However, our scuba diving trips had shown me just how invisible the inner reefs really were, so we played it safe and headed back around the north side of Mayreau before running down to the "big city" of Clifton on Union Island. Clifton is the provisioning capital of the southern Grenadines and the customs clearing port, so it is pretty much on everyone’s port-of-call list. As we sailed into the well marked harbor, a brightly painted launch came out to meet us. As per John West’s suggestion, we told the launch captain that we were going to Lambi’s dock for provisions. He immediately grinned and announced, "I’m Black Boy. I gone take good care o you, mon." John had told us that Black Boy was a trusted friend, so we just sat back and let him take care of everything. Once again, John was right on the money. Black Boy got us water and everything else we needed, while I cleared customs, so that we could go to the Island of Carriacou the next day. Carriacou is just a few miles south of Union, but it is part of Grenada. When I cleared customs, I told them that we wouldn’t be leaving until the next morning. They had no problem with that, so we headed to Chatham Bay on the other side of Union Island for the night.

We tacked into the open bay with a good wind on our beam, giving us almost 12 knots on the water and no waves to slow us down. It was a great ride and we reluctantly dropped sail as we entered the large and empty anchorage. Chatham Bay is unique in several ways. It has no development of any kind, which even in the sparsely populated Grenadines is pretty rare. It is very protected on the leeward side of the island, yet is quite breezy because of wind funneling down the steep bay walls. It usually has very few yachts in it. Its only inhabitant is a guy named "Shark Attack", and he alone is well worth the trip to Chatham Bay.

Shark Attack was more than thrilled to throw us a beach barbecue lobster feast for $20US each. Since he was promising a three-piece rock band free of charge, we were sure it was the bargain of the century and asked him if Mick Jagger would be attending. As it turns out, a rock band in Chatham Bay actually bangs rocks together, along with old coffee can lids, overturned buckets, beer bottles, sticks, and (to round out their sound) an actual guitar. It was absolutely the coolest band I’d ever heard. Needless to say, the beer bottle beat of the Bob Marley tunes kept us dancing around the beach fire all night long, while we ate lobster, and drank three-dollar-a-bottle rum. Now, if that isn’t heaven, then I need to switch religions.

The next day we awoke to yet another gorgeous sunrise and headed for Carriacou. We cleared Grenada customs in Hillsborough, which turned out to be less trouble than I had imagined. Afterward we stopped for lunch at a little spit called Sandy Island. Sandy Island is your classic cartoon island, complete with ten palm trees surrounded by a perfect little sand beach and azure water. It is the perfect lunch spot, with great snorkeling and just enough room for half a dozen boats to hang out, but a little too exposed to make for a good overnight in any kind of weather. The best anchorage on Carriacou is Tyrrel Bay, thus, we decided to make it our home for the evening. After anchoring in the large, quiet bay, we dingyed to one of the numerous restaurants for some goat curry and (you guessed it) rum punch.

In the morning Erinann, Finn, and I dropped off our first week’s crew and picked up our victims for the second week of the trip. Erinann’s sister, Eileen and Eileen’s fiancée Greg joined us along with our Seattle buddies Bob, Frank, Karen, and Tom. It was a reluctant "goodbye" for some and an excited "howdy" for others.

During the second week, we would retrace our voyage back to St. Vincent and return Echo to her rightful owners. As we sailed north from Carriacou, Frank asked me if there were any places we visited on the way down, that we should skip going back. I thought about it a second and said, "Yea, we might want to skip the TMM charter dock and just sail this baby to Martinique." I’m still not sure why I didn’t take my own advice. I guess I’m saving that for the next charter.