The Grenadines

The wildest place in the West Indies is the Southern Grenadines. A series of small islands stretches south from Bequia. St Vincent, Bequia and the Grenadines collectively form the country of St Vincent and the Grenadines, terminating before Carriacou which belongs to Grenada. The islands are surrounded by beautiful coral reefs. After the mountainous, lush islands we had encountered the white sand and palm trees made us feel that we had come further than a few dozen miles.
I think that there are two ideals we hold when we think of tropical islands. The first is the image of a little, low sand island with palm trees, with clear water and coral all around. This is best accompanied by a waitress wearing white cotton bringing drinks, then vanishing before your beautiful companion walks in slow motion up from the ocean from where she has been swimming (naked).
The second type of island is the lush jungle island of Bali Hai, with waterfalls falling in the hills behind the deserted beaches. (Again, the waitress comes in handy.) These are all about rugged, dramatic beauty, with adventure lurking not too far inshore.
The Grenadines were of the first type, the first we had seen since the Bahamas. Largely uninhabited, their bounty came from the sea, not the land. I felt at home here because I grew up in a similar environment.

Our first stop south of Bequia was the Tobago Cays. We decided to skip the private islands around Mustique. The Fourth of July was coming up, and the word had got around that the place to be was the Tobago Cays. On the way across we bumped into Jammin’ again. We told them where we were headed and they decided to join us.
These small, deserted islands are surrounded by reefs, and we followed the instructions closely to gain the anchorage safely. It was great sailing inside the reef, with fresh trade winds blowing across clear, flat water. We dropped behind a small tropical island lined with coconut palms. We were the only boats there, so we had the pick of the spots. Later we were joined by a French boat.
I launched the dinghy and we motored over to say hello to Ian and Mary. That night they came over for dinner and we caught up.

In the morning Force Five sailed in. We couldn’t believe the coincidence. We had everyone over to True Blue for dinner that night. Here is are photos stolen off their site.
The morning brought the Fourth of July. We all went snorkelling over the other side of the island. It was then we found out where the crowds were- there were dozens of American boats on the other side of our island. While we motored past many invited us for drinks. We put together a picnic and headed for the beach. Ian, Curt and I decided to get drinking coconuts for us all. We were not very good at it. We continually had to through the coconut crabs off our blanket as night fell. It was a good sign that it was time to go.
We hung out in the Tobago Cays with Ali and Curt for a while. Jammin’ left us to go to Tobago. Gradually we fell into a routine of alternating drinks or dinner with Force Five, trying to catch fish for dinner each day. The weather was good but occasional squalls ripped through, reminding us that there was not much protection there. One day we took a beer run over to Union Island, and had lunch in town. The locals were very friendly, and we all ate the local ‘fish soup and provision’ lunch special for a couple of dollars. Curt always just asks ‘What’s good?’ at each place, and had that. We moved on to Mayreau and walked all over the island. This place was well off the tourist path. I managed to trash my outboard under the local jetty, totally scratching it up. At least now it would not be so attractive to thieves. That day was Curt’s birthday, so we had them over to dinner.
We all liked Union Island, so we decided to make that our next stop. We sailed over in company and anchored off Frigate Island, about a mile from town. In the shore were hundreds of frigate birds. Curt and I got a six pack and his dinghy and went trolling. We didn’t catch anything, but the beer was gone by the time we got back. We went shopping the following day, and Force Five had dragged, so they were keen to move on to PSV. We stayed a little longer. After a few weeks of constant company it was time to get some alone time, so we checked out some of the other anchorages further around the island for a couple of days.

Palm, Petite St Vincent and Petite Martinique

Three days later we moved onto Palm Island for a day. It was a beautiful island, and we anchored well off the beach in an area of scattered coral. It was nice just to take a day and do nothing.

PSV and PM.

PSV is a pretty little island with an exclusive resort on it. There is a channel about a mile wide to PM, closed at one end by a shared coral reef. We anchored between the islands with a couple of dozen other yachts. Force Five were there. The activity here was snorkelling. There were rumours of lobster in the reef, but I didn’t get any. I took Curt for a beer run across the channel to Petite Martinique. It was a challenge to get the little boat planing with two big guys and 3 cases of beer, but we managed it. That night we had our first sit-down restaurant dinner for ages. We talked about our plans. Curt and Allie had to go back to Bequia, and Al and I were keen to head south to Grenada to pick up our ships documentation. We couldn’t get any money out and were running a bit low, so it was time to leave. We arranged to call on the VHF each time we came to a new island to see if they were there. I think we were both sad to part but also ready to get back into individual cruising mode again.

Carriacou

Carriacou marked the end of the Grenadines, generally seen as the ultimate cruising ground in the Eastern Caribbean islands. We were a bit sad that our visit to the area was at an end. We thought it would be a quick stop off before getting into Grenada, and what was generally seen as the hurricane safe zone. It was already mid July. We never expected Carriacou to be such a special place.

We sailed the three miles over to Carriacou in the morning. On the way there I managed to drop my surfboard over the side, so we got a quick Man-Over-Board drill. Then it was a brisk sail around the corner to the capital, Hillsborough.
Hillsborough was a typical Caribbean town along a beach full of fishing boats. We checked in with customs and stayed the first night in the rocky anchorage. I tried trolling from the dinghy again with no luck, so it was vegetarian again that night. While we motored by we stopped at another boat who recommended the next bay around. All their friends were already there. In the morning we left for Tyrrel Bay.

We anchored amongst dozens of boats. It turned out that Carriacou was a favourite summer base for many of the long term Caribbean cruisers, people who had been out for decades. I can recognise a party town from a mile away, and this was definitely one of them. In addition the Carriacou Regatta was to start in ten days, one of the main events on the sailing calendar. We decided to duck down to Grenada, get our ship’s papers and come back.

Grenada

We sailed down to St Georges, the capital city of Grenada. On the way there we sailed past the spectacular ‘Kick-em-Jenny’ rocks, and some deserted islands along the way. We sailed straight over an active underwater volcano, but it was quiet that day. We planned to go get our stuff then explore on the way back up. We were definitely back to large volcanic islands again. Sailing along the lee of Grenada the jungle came right down to the water. We anchored off the harbour rather than going in, and motored to the yacht club. There was a message there for us behind the bar telling us there were packages at the post office that required customs clearance. We walked up the hill past a bustling market and taxi stop to the post office. There were our ships papers! We were legal. There was also a package of presents from our friends Dan and Lindsay, including a fly gun, and a bosun’s whistle that had belonged to Lindsay’s dad. For some reason the spring powered ‘spud gun’ was deemed a weapon, and confiscated. I also bought a fishing rod and reel, and some lures. On the way out we met Jammin’ again, who had some gear stolen off their decks where we were anchored. We decided to move the next day.
We spent the night there then sailed around to Prickly Bay. There we met back up with the guys off Zenitia, and acquainted ourselves with the Tiki bar there.
On the way back up we stopped in a little secluded bay that Jay had told us about. It was an incredible place with jungle overhanging the water. We put some cocktail sausages on a hook and quickly caught enough red snapper for dinner.

Back to Carriacou

I tried the rod and reel the next day as we headed north again. Just as we were leaving the island it went off with a howl. Fifteen minutes later I was the proud owner of about eighteen inches of tuna. We got into Tyrrel bay to find Force Five there. We had them over to dinner, and the two Al’s made sushi with the tuna.
The regatta was due for the first of August, and we started talking about entering. Force Five was quite a fast boat, and I wanted to see what True Blue could do. I knew we were slow but she did come 13th out of 40 boats in the single handers race from Newport to Bermuda. In the mean time there were pizzas at the yacht club and plenty of cheap rum. We had been to the bank and were ready to party.
Once we had partaken of the party scene for a few days we needed a break, so we sailed around the bottom of the island to White Island. This was a beautiful spot. We dropped the anchor in deep sand next to a pretty coral reef. Curt and I grabbed the spear guns and lobster net and went hunting.

The Carriacou Regatta

The registration day came around and Curt and I put our Captains’ hats on and registered. It was forty five dollars and came with a forty five dollar bottle of aged rum. Thanks Mount Gay.
The first race was on Force Five, double handed with Curt and me. We decided a shot of Orange Stoli at each mark would help us perform. We came in the middle of the pack and quite well up on handicap. That night the presentations included a couple of free drinks for each boat. We kept sending the girls up and the island guys were happy to keep giving them drinks all night. We met a lot of people that night. One guy, Ray, was a single hander who borrowed an inflatable doll from another boat to make up the two crew requirement. He strapped it to the mast. The owner of the doll, George off the Vagrant, swore that the doll was for deterring thieves at night. We believe him…
The second race it was True Blue’s turn, this time with all four of us on board. We got a good start and then everyone sailed past us. We came last by 36 minutes, but we did kill the Stoli and we had the best looking girls. As we finally made it to the finish it looked like the guy manning the finish line was leaving. He ducked away to catch a fish for dinner, then got back in time to blow the finish horn for us.
The next day was devoted to the local working boat races. These guys took it very seriously indeed, with considerable prestige at stake. It was then that we found Jack Iron. This was cheap rum that bar owners bought by the drum before it had any water added to it, so it was 75-80% alcohol. You bought it by the 250ml bottle, quite often a Listerine bottle, for about one or two dollars. This was enough rum to get about four people drunk. The bar made their money from selling the mixers. We preferred the lemon-lime drink Ting. Your hardened drinkers would forgo the mixers, which made for a cheap night but couldn’t be good for them. One guy, Johnson, looked us in the eye and swore that he had hallucinated on the stuff. He had lived there for years. We took it easy. It was great talking to the locals at the pub, as they explained the different classes in the racing as each race started on the beach in front of us.
The final race we crewed on a serious race boat called Avillion 5. Ralph and Terrasina were doing well in the regatta. Avillion 5 used to be a Fastnet race boat before Ralph bought her. George of blow-up doll fame was on the helm, Ralph was the Captain, Curt and I had a Genoa winch each, and the girls got out of the way. We quickly got the hang of it, and I was amazed how close to the wind it could sail. We won across the line without any trouble.
The final party was at the yacht club and featured Ray juggling, which he used to do professionally. We also got talking to Tom and Margie off ¾ Time. Most of the boats there were serious cruisers, on their way around the Caribbean, or around the world. George had worked for twenty years as a charter boat skipper in the Med before sailing back across the Atlantic, and I shared Atlantic war stories with him.
There was a hang-over day, then George hung out the ‘Bar’s Open’ flag he had made. This was an open invitation for anyone to introduce themselves and come up for a drink. We got to know many people who we would see all the way to Venezuela.