I woke up in the morning to the white-hot rays of the sun streaming into the boat. There was no wind, but we had a ground swell causing Mary Jo to creakily rock back and forth, moving the sunbeams up and down the walls. Other than that, it was silent.
I went outside, and it was soaked from the rain. Water droplets were sparkling and dripping off everything. The cliffs and green coconut palms surrounded us above the velvet blue rolling water, and when I looked out to sea, I saw a bright rainbow.
We were getting a late start, sleeping in a little bit because of how big of a day we had yesterday to get 50 miles from Rodney Bay, St. Lucia to here. Today’s agenda was just 20 miles, and then we’d arrive in Bequia! This is it… we’ve kind of almost made it!
We’ve definitely come a long way from St Martin, and St. Thomas was two months ago. But once at Bequia, I feel we are relatively safe from hurricanes. The way hurricane paths work, it is unlikely for one to hit down here. It still can happen, but it’s pretty rare! Bequia is part of the island chain called the Grenadines, just south of St. Vincent and north of Grenada. That’s our destination for today.
Hooray! Not long after we woke up and made coffee in the morning sunshine, Javed showed up on his paddle board. I couldn’t help being reminded of my time in Haiti, with someone eagerly paddling up to us first thing in the morning. Javed is the 12-ish year old boat boy who had greeted us the day before. He was catching his food for the day! So he came over to us because fish often gather under the sailboats. He had just a handline and a shiny green lure, and he proceeded to catch five fish! They call this kind of fish Kavali. They are very good!
It was cool to watch him; he was a true expert at a young age. But I asked if he was living with his parents because I was curious, and he said he was with his cousin. That’s interesting because I’ve heard that these kids in St. Vincent, St. Lucia, and other places like this are often orphans. They have a lot of kids who roam around, getting taken care of by many different people in the community. Javed told us that he catches his food and eats fish every day! I asked if he had a garden, and he said no. But people give him food, and he feeds his friends or family with the fish he catches. He took shelter on Mary Jo and waited out a heavy rainstorm that lasted about 10 minutes.
He noticed that I had a box from a new cell phone. A Google Pixel, actually I had this brand new phone in reserve, stored in the boat for the past eight months, waiting for my current phone to eventually shit the bed. It had done that yesterday. For months, it had become very challenging to force it to charge. (I’ve been writing this blog using either my highly defective phone or my laptop, which is even worse, with the touchpad broken so that the mouse just randomly wanders and clicks erratically.) So finally, I’ll be honest, in Dominica, I dropped the phone right in a beautiful stream in the mountains. I got it dry quickly, but that began its true death spiral. It caught a case of the “purple death,” the screen starting to grow purple holes until finally nothing was visible. So I swapped in the backup phone.
I showed Javed both the phones and that purple death phenomenon. He said he used to have a tablet, but the same thing happened to it. He wanted a phone or some kind of device. Yeah… made me think. He wanted to travel, leave St. Vincent and explore the world. Go somewhere like America where he could make money and have these nice things…
That seems to be what everyone wants down here, at least young people. And many of us in America wish we could live in paradise, on a green, mountainous Caribbean island, where the weather is ideal every day, the water is warm, clean, and full of fish… But I get it, and it’s hard to be satisfied with what you have. I am very thankful that I have been able to pursue all the things I wanted, so now I got the best of both worlds! Living in this paradise with the benefits of being from America! That benefit is that I have money or the things money can buy. Well, I can’t complain, but I sometimes feel upset about the state of the world. And people do harass me continuously here in the southern Caribbean, begging for money left and right, not realizing that I’ve already either told off or donated to dozens of people in a given day.
Of course, I’m gonna run out of money! Someday… but not anytime soon! That’s good, that’s a future-me problem. So, we said goodbye to Javed, started the motor, and pulled the hook. The rain streamed through the sunshine that backlit Volcano Soufriere, with the explosive double rainbow still hanging over the ocean to the west. Then we cruised ten miles down the coast of St. Vincent.
St. Vincent is one of the smaller of the Windward Islands. The Windwards are the southern islands, and they are larger than the islands in the north. This also makes them wetter, the bigger mountains and higher elevation draw more moisture. Perhaps there are other reasons they are wetter too because even the small islets are pretty green here. Unlike in the north, St. Thomas, St. Martin, St Bart’s, etc., are all desert islands. Down south, you stop seeing cacti, and things are greener. But St. Vincent is a smaller sized island than the other Windwards, yet its peaks are, if anything MORE dramatic. It is so rugged that it is very undeveloped, like Dominica. The nature protects it.
Occasionally, a village or town was built into the jagged seaside mountains, with crazy roads snaking through and a few other beautiful bays where we could anchor someday. But it didn’t take long to pass the whole ten miles of St. Vincent’s spectacular coast, and then we could see Bequia. It was a small, low-lying island, alone in the blue. It looked so simple and idyllic.
Sort of like we were flying, we left the coast of St. Vincent for the passage of water between the islands. The weather today was the same as it had been since leaving Martinique… As though somewhere, way out in some distant corner of the Atlantic, a hurricane was sucking up all the wind. It left us with this blissfully perfect weather, clearing the skies of all haze so that the rocky hills of Bequia looked crisp and bright on the horizon. Behind us, we could see St. Vincent’s capital city of Kingstown, sprawling beneath the sharp green mountains.
The wind was gentle and steady, and the sky was blue with puffy clouds. With ease, I unfurled the jib sail, turned off the motor, and began sailing the final ten miles across the blue water. We went fast and had a fantastic crossing. There were strange currents that slowed us down, then made us go faster, making the waves strange. I saw a ferry boat leaving Bequia for the mainland.
Bequia is a small island with one sweeping, protected bay called Admiralty Bay. From that bay, a peninsula makes up the western portion of Bequia. It is a small mountain range extending a long way into the ocean. A very pretty ridge comes out from the island like a big arm. Admiralty Bay is an ideal, moon-shaped harbor with steep slopes that rise from the turquoise water on all sides. The town was built around that coastline, with colorful homes adorning the hills. Oh, it’s paradise here! And there were hundreds of sailboats in the bay. Fortunately, the bay is big enough to accommodate all of us.
Although, we can’t anchor close to the town anymore. When I was here seven years ago, we anchored in the protected inner harbor, very close to town. Now, a lot of the space was taken up by a mooring ball field that you had to reserve and pay for. A lot of it was vacant too, but anchoring there was no longer permitted.
So we had to stay outside the harbor, along a glorious white sandy beach that carried on for miles, with a backdrop of massive, old green trees, coconut palms, and cliffs. There were many other gypsy-type people in boats from all over the world! There were also maybe twice as many catamarans, many of which were short-term rental boats, but some were owned by gypsy people too. But that was cool to see all these characters, all with stories, who came from somewhere here to Bequia to shelter hurricane season. The water here was crystal clear and vibrant turquoise.
Of course, when I jumped in, the water wasn’t actually crystal clear. It never seems to be anymore. I think it used to be clear as air in these far-flung paradise destinations like Bequia. Record-breaking levels of Sargasso weed this year in the Caribbean seem to have helped discolor the water a bit everywhere. I heard the Grenadines were having a big problem with that. Of course, there’s no Sargasso weed at this beach. It only piles up on the windward side of all the islands. Yet it is still clouding the water clarity of apparently the entire ocean.
Alright! Let’s get some fried chicken! I wanted this because I remember having some with my friends here years ago at a little hole in the wall place. I remember it distinctly, it was so good that it just fell apart, and we actually ate all the bones! I definitely remember this, but I’ve never eaten a portion of fried chicken, bones and all like that, any other time in my life!
We went to shore, locked the dinghy to the biggest manchineel tree I’ve ever seen (a bad idea, very poisonous tree,) and walked down the soft beach in the blazing sun. Then there was a trail, wooden boardwalk, and staircases built into the side of a big rock face. This trail took us into town! How great, it was gorgeous, climbing high enough to see an excellent viewpoint of Admiralty Bay.
We got fried chicken somewhere, probably not the same place I remember, and it was very good. But you know, we didn’t like, eat all the bones. Maybe I was starving to death on that last trip actually! Yup that could be it.
…
The next day we tried to check in with customs to the independent nation of St. Vincent and the Grenadines here in Bequia. In fact, they found us, first thing in the morning. Oops! Don’t like when that happens.
A woman came up in a small dinghy, yelling at us! She said, “you need to do your health declaration, what do you mean you haven’t done it yet?! And have you filled out Sailclear yet?”
“No… ok, well, I’ll do that then. Thanks…” She took photographs of our vaccine passport cards and regular passports, rudely demanded $50, and abruptly left. Huh, that was strange. Later she came back and handed us a health document! Oh, ok, well that’s alright, thanks for taking care of us. I was still busy filling out the very extensive online form for Sailclear, that I hadn’t the slightest idea needed to be done. That’s okay, I know now, it’s all good. We will properly prepare ourselves to go to shore and check in with customs. I wanted to appear very organized and calm at the customs house, so now it’s just single-minded focus until I get us checked in.
We got to shore and walked directly to the customs house. I put on my nice shirt when I got there, so as not to get it sweaty on the walk. Dad took a seat, and I stood in line, 9 AM is an excellent time to check-in, and a woman cut me in line. Right in front of the officer. Then she apologized, and I told her casually to go right ahead! Always good to be polite in a customs house! She thanked me after she finished her paperwork. After that, the whole customs process went very smoothly.
So, we earned ourselves another nice meal, and this was one of the best meals ever. It rained as we sat under an umbrella on the patio, which kept us dry, and the waiter made us a big French press of coffee! We had conch fritters, burgers, and key lime pie with homemade ice cream, and we were the only people at the absolutely fantastic restaurant. It was on the waterfront. A lot of the town is built right on the edge of the water, with a concrete sidewalk that follows the water’s edge. Then we made our way back to the boat and relaxed all evening.
…
The weather forecast was strange the following day. No wind was forecasted, just a low-pressure kind of day. It was grey, overcast with big storm clouds, and then they burst apart with lightning and crashing rain. It cleared but stayed cloudy, and today I wanted to hike around and climb the tallest peak on Bequia, called Mt. Peggy. I was going to part ways with Dad, he opted to go to town and shop for a couple of gifts, then spend the day relaxing.
Bequia was a gorgeous walk, it’s a peaceful place. However… on my way around the island, I took a wrong turn that took me far out of my way. I walked up a steep hill through a very lonely, very backwoods type of neighborhood until the brushy road dead-ended with a trail that reconnected me to the mountain hike. There I saw something strange… something very strange…
I told this ghost story a couple of chapters ago about Ile Des Saintes… About howlers… A sort of rumor, fictional, of course, about the kind of horrific things that could happen in small isolated island communities through the generations…(because of incest). Well, what I saw here in Bequia was not fictional at all. I hate to say…
I heard a sort of grunting, you could say, as I hiked up this steep road. It was coming from a house overgrown by the bush. I thought it might be a horse or a donkey. Then I felt it; the earth was shaking, a deep rumbling… Now I thought it must be pigs- lots of pigs rutting around. But my heart started to beat faster, what could this be… What if…? Then I smelled it. Horrible, a horrible smell. Maybe farm animals, but worse. More like sewage.
I kept hiking, focused on getting past whatever commotion was going on at the house. And then I saw it. It was a man, a big man. He was on a porch, wearing a blue shirt, jumping up and down violently, out of control. Then he let out a loud, gruesome, bone-chilling human howl.
My heart damn near stopped, and I only caught a glimpse sideways of this guy, just a momentary glance, and I kept walking! I did not stick around to find out.
I am not sure if the guy was a howler. I’ll probably never know. But I swear I did see this, and it scared the bejeezus out of me.
Come to think of it, I’ve seen all kinds of strange things from people in the mountains in the Caribbean. St Thomas was so haunted you’d see people possessed by demons or whatever was wrong with them, often. Of course, I guess most people don’t see it- I see it because I’ve spent so much time wandering around on foot down roads through these mountains, and most people don’t do that!
Anyway, I climbed the mountain in the light rain after that, and the view was gorgeous! Dad walked out later, and I met him on the walk back through the island. We had a lovely walk down to the beach and around some cliffs to get back to the boat. It was a wonderful day. Oh, except for the howler, that was weird.
…
The following day it was time to leave Bequia and continue through the Grenadines! Our next destination- Canouan! The weather today was back to being ideal. Crystal clear skies and just enough wind to sail fast, but no more than that. And no waves! Unbeatable.
We motored down Bequia’s long and iconic peninsula, and right as we cleared it, we put up both sails and cruised. Behind Bequia was a very sharp and rugged little crust of earth called Isle a Quatre. Nobody lives on it, but it’s pretty big. Behind that and all around, we could see all the northern Grenadines. They are Baliceaux, Mustique, Canouan, Mayreau and Union Island… That’s what we could see from here, with a couple of extra rocks scattered among them. Union island was on the distant horizon, with its two or three knife-like peaks and dramatic valley that swoops all the way down to sea level between them. But mostly, the islands looked pretty lonely, small and low-lying, and mostly this panorama was of the ocean and sky.
As for the rest of the Grenadines that we couldn’t see yet, we have Tobago Keys, Petit Martinique, Petit St. Vincent, and Carriacou, as well as a few smaller, whimsical little palm tree fringed islands between them. I was thrilled to be here, all the hard sailing is definitely over! We made it.
So the sail to Canouan was 20 easy miles. We saw a beautiful big cutter rig sailboat pass by that we watched for a while. Then we arrived in Grand Bay, a very easy place to make landfall between the protective hills of the island. Grand Bay is vast and brilliant turquoise, in front of a long sandy beach. There was a small village at one end, with a concrete wharf, and a big hotel at the other end. There were houses on the hills behind the town as well.
It seemed like there weren’t too many other boats around here, there were a couple of catamarans anchored in the distance, but not much was going on here at all! Felt like a tiny island in the middle of nowhere. We dropped the anchor in front of the hotel, in the patches of sand between the turtle grass, and dived in for a swim.
We took it easy for a long time, then explored the shore! Well… There was that hotel, or a beach resort really, and they had a long wooden dock sticking out into the bay. Let’s dinghy up to their dock and see if we can go to shore from there! Can’t hurt to ask!
A man in a hotel uniform walked out when we got to the dock. He came and greeted us and told us we were welcome to tie up here! What a surprise! (Being allowed to tie up as opposed to being kicked out.) But we were asked to stop for a drink at the bar or something.
No problem, but since we’re non-drinkers, we’ll have a key lime pie with ice cream and coffee!! We walked into the resort restaurant, it was open air with sweeping verandas looking towards the turquoise ocean, with posh couches, palm trees and chandeliers. No customer was there, but it was fully staffed with uniformed waiters idly standing around chatting. The tables were prepared with fine china and glassware, and a nice lady sat us in a more casual spot on some extra soft couch cushions, simply too soft!! And we had our decadent snack.
We talked to our friendly waitress for a long time, and the bill was exceptionally high. We asked her about this place, where are we? She told us this was an international beach club, and it was exclusive and very expensive. Apparently, it was *very* expensive, like only celebrities and billionaires are members. So no one was here, but they had six guests currently. The staff was standing ready to serve them. She said they also welcome business from people on yachts who stop here. Oh, that’s us!
Interesting really… We told her we would walk around the village and see the island. She said there was no path between the town and the resort, and we would have to walk down the beach to get there. So that’s what we did.
We noticed a little brown and red turtle, or tortoise, standing on the beach! That’s different. Then we continued to see dozens of them everywhere on Canouan! We got to the fruit market at the docks, and I wanted to pay this place a visit. I remembered it from being here once before. So we stocked up on some organic, locally grown, incredible produce!
Then we walked through the tiny town and up into the hills. We could see down on Mary Jo and Grand Bay from the ridgeline road. We could even see in the corner of the bay a police station and one of those coast guard boats, one of the aggressive, authoritarian powerboats donated to these various Caribbean countries from the United States! I’ve seen that boat before! And I read the article about them being gifts from the USA. Huh, funny to find that here because Canouan seems to be an exclusive destination. Nobody knows about this island, even sailors often mispronounce the name. It is truly remote. It appears to be a destination for the super-rich elitist types of the world, so it would make sense that they donate the police boat to this island.
We got a little lost and tried to walk a loop around the island, although I had a feeling this wouldn’t work. The map shows that the road connects, so one could walk the west side of the island out and then return on the east side. We walked the west side road to the end, but sure enough, it dead-ended at a gated community. We asked the gatekeeper if we could pass through to connect and walk back on the other side. He said no. Private property, not happening.
Well, that’s lame. We hiked back, climbed a different hill, and then walked a ways down the east side to see the view. It was worth it; there was a formidable barrier reef along the eastern coast. It was beautiful to look down on the turquoise reef waters from the ridge, with the open Atlantic behind it. We could also see the island’s north end, where that exclusive gated community was in the distance. It looked like abandoned mansions on the hills.
…
And finally, the next day, we made it to Union Island! Sailing there was sublime as we fought a current passing through clear water between Catholic rocks and Mayreau. We decided to skip the Tobago Keys… Save ourselves something for next time! And buy us an extra day at the end of the line in Grenada, so Dad’s not rushing to make his flight home…
Union Island approached with its three distinctive mountain spires and carved-out swooping valley. I love this island! I don’t even know why, but I’ve always wanted to come here. I’ve always loved this island because I’ve always loved geography and have seen it on the map. Something about it has been calling my name for some reason all these years. And Dad has been here once, not in 2003, but all the way back in ’95. A lot has changed, but the ocean currents and topography have not.
So we screamed under sail into Wreck Bay, cruised through a gap in the reef between there and Palm Island, put the sails down, and motored into Clifton, Union Island. Clifton is surrounded by a barrier reef, kind of like Tahiti, and we threaded our way through the luminous clear water. We could see from the shades of turquoise where the rocks and shallows were, and we stuck to the deep area. A little powerboat approached us as we were about to drop the anchor. He told us we couldn’t anchor, we needed to grab a mooring. Ok! That’s fine. He showed us to the mooring and helped us pick it up and tie it off.
The guy was very friendly, his name was Mr. Plat. I paid for the mooring and didn’t mind taking a mooring ball and paying for it instead of anchoring. It was in a nice, calm, quiet, protected area. I prefer this, because usually if we want a mooring ball, too bad! Some complicated reservation system requires advanced plans and booking on our phones, etc. Can we just pay the guy and get on with it? Yes, here in Union Island, that’s fine.
He said, “You know, if you need this mooring ball for a month, I offer that.”
“Well, I think I might take you up on that!” I thought, having a little premonition that I may have reached my destination for this trip. “But I’ll need it for more like a year!” I was planning to store Mary Jo in Grenada or somewhere out of the hurricane belt, starting in November, and leave to go back to the states and work. He said that was totally fine!
Well, I’ll put that on my list of plans. Still gotta research what’s going on in Grenada. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll return to Union Island, and living in this place will be my reward for making this trip. Whatever that means, whatever it is like to live here. It looks like paradise to me, beneath the abrupt, exotic rock mountain, with the Tradewinds blowing over the glassy shallows of the reef. The palm trees swayed on the offshore island, with Carriacou and Petit Martinique behind it looking lonely and simple. I think I could stay here for a while, only time will tell.
