A Mighty Wind
Those fans of Christopher Guest and his ensemble actors might recognize the title of this entry, but our mighty wind was the real thing. This morning, while motoring around the south end of Martinique, we ran into a squall packing 40knot winds and pelting rain. Not fun, but it was surprisingly moderate as we we'd been motorsailing through 25-32 knot winds all morning long.
Day before yesterday morning we set off with Pancho to tour Trafalgar Falls on the south end of Dominica. Pancho had been recommended to us by Albert, our guide on the Indian River at the north end of Dominica. Pancho was every bit the naturist (not the sun loving kind...) as was Albert. Along the way he identified cinnamon (not native to the west indies), coffee, mango, and avocado trees. We had to try to guess cinnamon from its leaves, which smelled to me of nutmeg, but maybe that's just because we use so much cinnamon and nutmeg during the holidays. We had to guess coffee from a bean in its husk, not an easy task when the bean is unripe. Anyway, the trip up the mountain was full of botanical lessons.
The waterfall was reasonably cool, as waterfalls go. Two of them, about 80 feet high each, one plunging onto a rock fall, the other into a small pool at its base. Pancho and Maryann went for a dip; too chilly for me, despite the tropical surroundings. Pancho has the looks of a Rastafarian, though he had braids rather than dreadlocks. After the swim he lit up a small cigar-sized joint and stood there dripping water, puffing on his ganja (ganja is Rasta slang for marijuana). He was quite the Rasta Man, as I pointed out. "Yeah, baby", his reply.
After the brief hike to the waterfall and swim, we drove back down the mountainside and stopped at a fumarole, a small puddle of water with steam boiling up through it. We've got a video which we'll post to the web site along with the very few pictures that we got; for some reason our little point and shoot camera settings are producing less than optimal pics. But the video came out clearly. The fumarole was in lieu of hiking 7-9 hours to see the famous "boiling lake" on Dominica. Once the 2nd largest in the world, until the larger one in New Zealand decided to be a mud hole instead. The locals are quite aware that Mt Soufriere on Montserrat started erupting about 10 years ago, wiped out the capital city of Plymouth, and the airport, and hasn't really stopped since. When the boiling lake stopped boiling a little while ago, a lot of the locals were convinced an eruption was imminent. But it was only a 2-week hiatus and apparently the boiling lake is boiling once more.
Yesterday morning our boat part arrived. We'd ordered it while in St Maarten, and the folks who sent it decided that US mail was the appropriate way to ship a boat part to the Caribbean. Idiots. Rather than wait, we kept moving. Once we learned the shipment had arrived at the mail center on St Maarten we had them forward it on to Dominica. FedEx. Of course that meant it had to be flown to Puerto Rico. And then to Memphis. And back Puerto Rico. And then on to Dominca. At any rate we managed to snag it yesterday morning, and immediately upped anchor and set off for Martinique, just 30 miles south.
Naturally, the wind was coming from the southeast and we wanted to head pretty much due south. But then amazingly enough the wind came around enough to the east for us to be really sailing, and not just motorsailing. Of course just before I killed the engine, it obligingly died on its own. Damn. Thought we had more dirty diesel, but we figured out that we were drawing from 2 of our 4 diesel tanks, and the fuel pump actually pumps more diesel than the engine can use, with the excess being returned to the tank(s). In this case, one of the tanks was being used to suck fuel from and the other tank was getting the excess. When the first tank ran dry, the engine quit. Disabling the dry tank allowed us to start the engine again, but we didn't put it in gear because we were actually sailing! We managed to sail then entire way to Martinique, though we had to run the engine to charge the batteries. Still, without the load of propelling the boat, the engine is *way* quieter. Other than hitting winds between 25 and 30 knots near the north end of Martinique, it was a nice sail. The seas were down which also helped, though we were still slogging through 4-6 ft seas on close hauled in 25 knot sustained winds. Who knows, maybe we're learning how to sail?
We stopped at St Pierre on the northern end of Martinique. It's a charming little French fishing town, once known as the Paris of the Caribbean until the local Mt Pelee let go with a volcanic pyroclastic flow in 1910. Killed 30,000 people and sank 9 ships in the harbor. Only a prisoner in his cell was reputed to have survived. The village has never quite recovered.
While anchoring we had a new experience. We managed to snag the anchor chain on an already-anchored boat. We ended up a bit too close to them, but when we tried to raise the anchor we ended up pulling on their anchor chain. Not a good place to be. One of the local cruisers jumped in his dinghy and kept our 2 boats apart while I quickly put on a mask and fins and dove to clear the anchor. By that time our anchor was about 20 feet into the water, with the other boat's anchor chain hanging from it. It was easy to pull off their chain, drop it, and free our anchor. We ended up anchoring at the south side of the town dock, instead of the north side where we started. Thankfully this other guy helped us out when we needed it.
This morning we had the requisite pain de chocolate and croissant with cafe au lait and then wandered through the Saturday morning market We bought some fresh produce and then headed south to Marin, the French yachting center of the Caribbean. The winds and the waves started very small and manageable, but we had a large expanse of open bay to cross. The east side of Martinique has a huge bay and harbor where the capital, Fort de France is located. We were heading straight down the eastern coast to the south end of the island, so we had about 10 miles of open water to cross. Apparently the bay funnels the wind as we hit 24-26 knots consistently, with gusts nearing 30. The waves weren't dreadful, but the wind made up for it. We sailed on and off, with the wind ranging between close hauled and a close reach (yeah!), but we pretty much had to have the engine running as the wind shifted a fair bit.
Once we regained the coast and turned round the corner on the south end of the island we figured things would calm down. Hah. The damn wind just kept blowing with gusts to 32, and then we motorsailed into this squall where the wind actually hit 40 knots. I was in a pair of shorts, and back of the wheel just in case I needed to let the main fly free (if the winds get completely overpowering you can just let the main go and it'll flop in the wind - violently! - and the boat will lose speed, allowing you to maintain control). So I got to feel the rain being blown horizontally in 40 knots. Not particularly fun, but as I've already said, we'd been battling high winds all morning, so were prepared for the squall.
We sailed into sunshine, and then had to motor for 8 miles directly eastward, directly into the wind toward Marin. Just as we neared the buoys that marked the channel into Marin we tried to furl the mainsail, but the furling motor wasn't turning. I suspect we burned it out as letting out the main or furling it requires a delicate balance between the line that pulls the sail out and the electric motor that furls or un-furls the sail. At any rate, here we are entering a fairly tricky harbor with the wind still blowing 25-30 knots, and we can't furl the main. Well, actually we can. There's a manual control that allows you to either furl the sail or unfurl it. But we'd never needed it before. Turns out you use a winch handle to turn the very low geared mechanism. Low-geared means it takes a *lot* of turns to roll up the sail. And whoever did the hardware on our mast decided putting a large set of rope clutches right alongside the manual furling mechanism, so you couldn't rotate the winch handle. So I get to turn the mechanism a little more than 1/2 a rotation, then pull out the winch handle and put it back in and start all over again. While the sail in flapping madly in the wind. And we're trying to maintain minimum boat speed, dodging the other traffic coming in and out of the harbor, and keeping the boat pointed into the wind. This was not fun. But we finally got it under control and entered the harbor here at Marin.
And our first attempt to anchor ends up with us too close to another boat. And our second attempt puts us alongside a floating dry-dock; it's not going to move in the wind, but we will. Finally on our third try we manage to drop the anchor and position ourselves reasonably in relation to the hundreds and hundreds of other boats here. Did I mention this is the heart of French yachting in the Caribbean?
Oh, and I forgot that we hooked a fish just prior to entering the rain squall. Must have been a big one, as I almost couldn't put enough drag on the reel to stop him taking out the line. But my half-assed fisherman's knots must have let go and some poor fish is probably out there with a lure hanging out of its mouth. Damn.
Oh well, we got the boat put way and dinghied to shore. Oh wait, first we couldn't get the outboard started. So, out with the oars and row back to the boat, from which we've drifted a good little way. And then on the 3rd try after returning to the boat, the outboard starts. Just that kind of day. Anyway, we didn't find anyplace we'd really like to eat, so we popped into the local supermarket, bought some wine, some cheese, salami, and a baguette and had a very nice little dinner back on the boat. Of course the wine was oxidized; luckily we had one last remaining bottle from St Maarten which was still OK. Like I said, jus that kind of day.
Now it's nearly 9PM, and getting on to bedtime. :-) Tomorrow is Sunday and we'll probably take it easy most of the day. Monday we've got a bunch of boat chores to tackle, including replacing the mainsail furling motor. Since the company who provided our mast and mainsail furling system is French, hopefully it won't be too difficult buying a replacement. But we'll still be stuck here for a few days, regardless, as the weather forecast is showing even bigger winds and seas (up to 10') in the coming days. And even though it's only 26 miles to St Lucia, I think we'll wait for things to calm a bit before we tackle the passage.
Day before yesterday morning we set off with Pancho to tour Trafalgar Falls on the south end of Dominica. Pancho had been recommended to us by Albert, our guide on the Indian River at the north end of Dominica. Pancho was every bit the naturist (not the sun loving kind...) as was Albert. Along the way he identified cinnamon (not native to the west indies), coffee, mango, and avocado trees. We had to try to guess cinnamon from its leaves, which smelled to me of nutmeg, but maybe that's just because we use so much cinnamon and nutmeg during the holidays. We had to guess coffee from a bean in its husk, not an easy task when the bean is unripe. Anyway, the trip up the mountain was full of botanical lessons.
The waterfall was reasonably cool, as waterfalls go. Two of them, about 80 feet high each, one plunging onto a rock fall, the other into a small pool at its base. Pancho and Maryann went for a dip; too chilly for me, despite the tropical surroundings. Pancho has the looks of a Rastafarian, though he had braids rather than dreadlocks. After the swim he lit up a small cigar-sized joint and stood there dripping water, puffing on his ganja (ganja is Rasta slang for marijuana). He was quite the Rasta Man, as I pointed out. "Yeah, baby", his reply.
After the brief hike to the waterfall and swim, we drove back down the mountainside and stopped at a fumarole, a small puddle of water with steam boiling up through it. We've got a video which we'll post to the web site along with the very few pictures that we got; for some reason our little point and shoot camera settings are producing less than optimal pics. But the video came out clearly. The fumarole was in lieu of hiking 7-9 hours to see the famous "boiling lake" on Dominica. Once the 2nd largest in the world, until the larger one in New Zealand decided to be a mud hole instead. The locals are quite aware that Mt Soufriere on Montserrat started erupting about 10 years ago, wiped out the capital city of Plymouth, and the airport, and hasn't really stopped since. When the boiling lake stopped boiling a little while ago, a lot of the locals were convinced an eruption was imminent. But it was only a 2-week hiatus and apparently the boiling lake is boiling once more.
Yesterday morning our boat part arrived. We'd ordered it while in St Maarten, and the folks who sent it decided that US mail was the appropriate way to ship a boat part to the Caribbean. Idiots. Rather than wait, we kept moving. Once we learned the shipment had arrived at the mail center on St Maarten we had them forward it on to Dominica. FedEx. Of course that meant it had to be flown to Puerto Rico. And then to Memphis. And back Puerto Rico. And then on to Dominca. At any rate we managed to snag it yesterday morning, and immediately upped anchor and set off for Martinique, just 30 miles south.
Naturally, the wind was coming from the southeast and we wanted to head pretty much due south. But then amazingly enough the wind came around enough to the east for us to be really sailing, and not just motorsailing. Of course just before I killed the engine, it obligingly died on its own. Damn. Thought we had more dirty diesel, but we figured out that we were drawing from 2 of our 4 diesel tanks, and the fuel pump actually pumps more diesel than the engine can use, with the excess being returned to the tank(s). In this case, one of the tanks was being used to suck fuel from and the other tank was getting the excess. When the first tank ran dry, the engine quit. Disabling the dry tank allowed us to start the engine again, but we didn't put it in gear because we were actually sailing! We managed to sail then entire way to Martinique, though we had to run the engine to charge the batteries. Still, without the load of propelling the boat, the engine is *way* quieter. Other than hitting winds between 25 and 30 knots near the north end of Martinique, it was a nice sail. The seas were down which also helped, though we were still slogging through 4-6 ft seas on close hauled in 25 knot sustained winds. Who knows, maybe we're learning how to sail?
We stopped at St Pierre on the northern end of Martinique. It's a charming little French fishing town, once known as the Paris of the Caribbean until the local Mt Pelee let go with a volcanic pyroclastic flow in 1910. Killed 30,000 people and sank 9 ships in the harbor. Only a prisoner in his cell was reputed to have survived. The village has never quite recovered.
While anchoring we had a new experience. We managed to snag the anchor chain on an already-anchored boat. We ended up a bit too close to them, but when we tried to raise the anchor we ended up pulling on their anchor chain. Not a good place to be. One of the local cruisers jumped in his dinghy and kept our 2 boats apart while I quickly put on a mask and fins and dove to clear the anchor. By that time our anchor was about 20 feet into the water, with the other boat's anchor chain hanging from it. It was easy to pull off their chain, drop it, and free our anchor. We ended up anchoring at the south side of the town dock, instead of the north side where we started. Thankfully this other guy helped us out when we needed it.
This morning we had the requisite pain de chocolate and croissant with cafe au lait and then wandered through the Saturday morning market We bought some fresh produce and then headed south to Marin, the French yachting center of the Caribbean. The winds and the waves started very small and manageable, but we had a large expanse of open bay to cross. The east side of Martinique has a huge bay and harbor where the capital, Fort de France is located. We were heading straight down the eastern coast to the south end of the island, so we had about 10 miles of open water to cross. Apparently the bay funnels the wind as we hit 24-26 knots consistently, with gusts nearing 30. The waves weren't dreadful, but the wind made up for it. We sailed on and off, with the wind ranging between close hauled and a close reach (yeah!), but we pretty much had to have the engine running as the wind shifted a fair bit.
Once we regained the coast and turned round the corner on the south end of the island we figured things would calm down. Hah. The damn wind just kept blowing with gusts to 32, and then we motorsailed into this squall where the wind actually hit 40 knots. I was in a pair of shorts, and back of the wheel just in case I needed to let the main fly free (if the winds get completely overpowering you can just let the main go and it'll flop in the wind - violently! - and the boat will lose speed, allowing you to maintain control). So I got to feel the rain being blown horizontally in 40 knots. Not particularly fun, but as I've already said, we'd been battling high winds all morning, so were prepared for the squall.
We sailed into sunshine, and then had to motor for 8 miles directly eastward, directly into the wind toward Marin. Just as we neared the buoys that marked the channel into Marin we tried to furl the mainsail, but the furling motor wasn't turning. I suspect we burned it out as letting out the main or furling it requires a delicate balance between the line that pulls the sail out and the electric motor that furls or un-furls the sail. At any rate, here we are entering a fairly tricky harbor with the wind still blowing 25-30 knots, and we can't furl the main. Well, actually we can. There's a manual control that allows you to either furl the sail or unfurl it. But we'd never needed it before. Turns out you use a winch handle to turn the very low geared mechanism. Low-geared means it takes a *lot* of turns to roll up the sail. And whoever did the hardware on our mast decided putting a large set of rope clutches right alongside the manual furling mechanism, so you couldn't rotate the winch handle. So I get to turn the mechanism a little more than 1/2 a rotation, then pull out the winch handle and put it back in and start all over again. While the sail in flapping madly in the wind. And we're trying to maintain minimum boat speed, dodging the other traffic coming in and out of the harbor, and keeping the boat pointed into the wind. This was not fun. But we finally got it under control and entered the harbor here at Marin.
And our first attempt to anchor ends up with us too close to another boat. And our second attempt puts us alongside a floating dry-dock; it's not going to move in the wind, but we will. Finally on our third try we manage to drop the anchor and position ourselves reasonably in relation to the hundreds and hundreds of other boats here. Did I mention this is the heart of French yachting in the Caribbean?
Oh, and I forgot that we hooked a fish just prior to entering the rain squall. Must have been a big one, as I almost couldn't put enough drag on the reel to stop him taking out the line. But my half-assed fisherman's knots must have let go and some poor fish is probably out there with a lure hanging out of its mouth. Damn.
Oh well, we got the boat put way and dinghied to shore. Oh wait, first we couldn't get the outboard started. So, out with the oars and row back to the boat, from which we've drifted a good little way. And then on the 3rd try after returning to the boat, the outboard starts. Just that kind of day. Anyway, we didn't find anyplace we'd really like to eat, so we popped into the local supermarket, bought some wine, some cheese, salami, and a baguette and had a very nice little dinner back on the boat. Of course the wine was oxidized; luckily we had one last remaining bottle from St Maarten which was still OK. Like I said, jus that kind of day.
Now it's nearly 9PM, and getting on to bedtime. :-) Tomorrow is Sunday and we'll probably take it easy most of the day. Monday we've got a bunch of boat chores to tackle, including replacing the mainsail furling motor. Since the company who provided our mast and mainsail furling system is French, hopefully it won't be too difficult buying a replacement. But we'll still be stuck here for a few days, regardless, as the weather forecast is showing even bigger winds and seas (up to 10') in the coming days. And even though it's only 26 miles to St Lucia, I think we'll wait for things to calm a bit before we tackle the passage.
posted by Ken at
4:58 PM |
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