After an evening of worry about our documentation we got underway very early and were soon watching Martinique slide away to our port. We were well and truly in the Windward Islands by this time and the wind was on our quarter, pushing us along easily. Our destination this time was Rodney Bay to clear in with the authorities. There we met Jammin’, who we had met in Antigua. While we were anchored there we saw another young couple on a cruising boat anchored much closer to the shore, but didn’t meet them.
Our next stop was a pretty place called Marigot Bay. When we got there we could see Jammin’
Marigot bay was picture perfect, and had been the setting for the Dr Doolittle movie a couple of years before. We anchored in front of Jammin’. It took a while for the anchor to set because the bottom had rocks all over it, but it eventually caught and I rowed over to say hello. Ian was about to scrape his hull and I offered pull out the hookah so we could do both of them. We spent a pleasant afternoon doing this tiring task, stopping occasionally to break the drinking and diving rule.
While we were sitting in Ian’s cockpit a guy rowed over from another boat to say hello. It was the guy from the boat we saw day before in Rodney Bay. We had noticed them because we always notice the younger cruisers. There were so few of us in the Caribbean, with the majority of sailors on their own boats being American retirees. The guy was Curt, off Force Five, who was travelling with his girlfriend Allie. We arranged to go ashore for drinks and dinner that night.
Drinks stretched into dinner and we had a great night. We had all missed other people below the age of fifty, and it was good to talk about mundane stuff like music with other people with similar interests and tastes. We ended up over on Force Five. Curt and Ali had bought their boat a few months previously in St Martin, after having just chucked everything in and flown down to live their dream of cruising the Caribbean. Ian and Mary were on their way to Australia.
Whenever a group of cruisers get together the guys tend to talk boat gear and the girls talk about the challenges of living on a small boat. (It is interesting that it seems anything smaller than a cruise ship is small, even if they have a fifty footer). Then toward the end of the evening you nod wisely and say it isn’t about gear at all, but about people and places. Then you can talk about gear again.
In the morning Force Five left for Bequia. Al and I wanted to stay another day, and Ian and I were in no condition to sail anywhere.
During our trip we often sailed in loose formation with other boats. There is a spectrum of this- from ‘buddy boating’ everywhere together to separate itineraries. We have always considered that cruising is best if you keep to your own timetable. Our friend Dan always said you can tell someone where you are going or when, but not both. The trouble with buddy boating is that you start making committee decisions on when and where to go, and do not take total responsibility for your route. I didn’t want to go there. Also sometimes you just want a break. We knew we would catch up with Force Five down the track.

The passage to Bequia was interesting. The day was cloudy. We left early in the morning and ghosted along the steep shores of southern St Lucia. The scenery was spectacular. After about an hour Ian and Mary sailed past us going about two knots faster with just a jib on their light speed machine. We waved and had a bit of a chat, then they were gone. I tried to keep up as well as I could by putting almost every sail we had up. After all, any time two sailboats are in sight of one another there is a race on.
While sailed across the passage to St Vincent a squall line approached. I had just been reading a cruising guide that said Caribbean squalls never lasted, and instead of reefing your sails you could just head downwind while they passed. I looked up at the mizzen, main, staysail and jib, and decided to try it.
Just before the squall line hit Alison pointed our a four masted cruise ship coming back towards us. All of a sudden they seemed to lean over. Then it was our turn.
The wind struck like a hammer blow. The tops of the small waves were picked up and thrown at us. I tried to point downwind but the wind just pivoted the boat around and pinned it down with the rail totally buried. Al was below.
“What the hell was that?”, she yelled, and barrelled up the companionway steps.
A show of strength was in order. Even though True Blue was on her side at about a 45 degree angle, nothing horrible was happening.
“Just stay down there, I just need to take some sail down”. Yeah, right.
“OK”. Al went and started to mop up the water coming in downstairs with a towel.

The radio went off, in a thick Texas drawl..
“Little blue boat, little blue boat, this is Coquette, Coquette. Are you OK, over?” It was the 50ft Beneteau that had passed us a little while back. I thought they might be in trouble, so I asked Al to talk to them, then went back to dropping sails.
First I furled the Genoa. The wind if anything seemed stronger, and the rail was still buried. I dropped the mizzen, and let the main out as far as it would go. Finally the boat came back up to a normal angle. I released the main halyard, got Al to pass me a harness and put it on, then went up to the mast and pulled the main down.
The wind lasted much longer than we expected. We heard on the weather the next day that winds up to 100 knots were recorded, and there was extensive property damage and some injuries. All in all we were proud of the way our little boat handled it.
Coquette was OK too, they had been carrying less sail and got away with turning downwind. I was impressed because Beneteaus are quite light. We had sailed a 38 footer and a 43 footer at different times and always found them easy to put on their ear. We later saw Coquette in Grenada, and she was huge.
Eventually we put the sails back up and continued on. The wind was from behind again. We sailed around St Vincent about 5 miles offshore, and crossed the channel to Bequia. As we approached a guy in a big inflatable dinghy roared up and took some pictures of True Blue. The wind was howling off the northern point of the island and we were really moving. Later he found us in the anchorage and we bought a copy of the photo for twenty bucks.
Bequia was revealed a pretty island with a long white-sand beach lining a huge bay. On the beach there were big wooden boats that the islanders built themselves. Occasionally they get limited permission to go whaling in them. I can’t say that I agree with it, but it was good to see the strong ocean-going tradition preserved. Walking through the town to check in I was asked how I was going and if I needed help. It was obvious these were proud people, and that they felt an affinity with the sailors that came to visit. They consider the fishermen from other islands to be lazy, and not brave enough to fish the deep ocean. It was not a tourist town and had a relaxed feel that was welcome after the fuss of Martinique. We saw Jammin’ in town and said hi. They planned to move on again to avoid the expense of being in the town and were looking forward to finding a deserted place to hang out, so we said goodbye.