Dominica - nica - nica……

Anyone remember that contagious song from the 70’s by the Singing Nun (I think she was Belgian) - “Dominica - nica - nica, s’en allait tout simplement…”? From the minute we arrived in Dominica (DomiNIca not to be confused with the DominiCAN Republic) I couldn’t get that stupid song out of my head.  It didn’t help that in Guadaloupe we had great internet and decided to sign up for the Amazon Prime series “American Horror”.  The second series is about an asylum run by nuns with all the terrible things that happened there, and they played the song incessantly on an old record player in the common room…

Enough of that, here we were in beautiful Dominica, another of the chain of volcanic islands in the eastern Caribbean, between Guadaloupe and Martinique.  We arrived in the major port of Portsmouth (named after the city in the UK where I was born) and anchored amongst a small number of other yachts and catamarans.  At this time of year it is low season throughout the Caribbean and the number of people and boats anywhere on our itinerary is much less than in high season.  Of course it is approaching the real start of hurricane season, so boats especially don’t hang around here unless they have a plan.  Dominica hasn’t been hit by a lot of major hurricanes but did host Maria in 2017, and only Hugo in 1989 before that, so they are definitely less common now we are progressing south, but a threat nevertheless. The bay in Portsmouth is called Prince Rupert bay, which we found cute and very British, but little did we know then that our third grandchild, to be born just a couple of weeks hence, would be named Rupert!!  It was a sign….

We stayed for five nights in Prince Rupert bay, where upon our arrival we were met by Albert - a local boat boy (well, man really) who would take care of anything we needed whilst there, supplies, tours, etc.  One of the first things we did was to book a short tour of the Indian River early the next morning.  Dominica has, we were told by Albert, 365 rivers. I guess that’s one for every day of the year, and Indian river is one of the more interesting ones - not least because of the cool name!!!  You are not allowed to use motors on the river, so after Albert picked us up on india, we switched to manual mode as we entered the river.  Albert, who incidentally only had one leg (we never did pluck up courage to ask him how he lost the other leg, but I am sure there was an incredible story behind it)  took out the oars and gently rowed us forth into the interior.  He was an encyclopaedia of knowledge about every plant, tree, crab, animal and bird we saw.  Very cool place, but the highlight was the jungle bar far inside where were able to have a delicious and refreshing fresh coconut and rum cocktail, at 10 in the morning…

On the way back, Albert introduced us to his friend - interestingly named Shadow, who was able to offer an island tour for the next day,  Dominica is a beautiful, mountainous land of rain forest, so we were keen to have a closer look around, and after some hard bargaining on the price, we signed up with Shadow for the tour.  Albert picked us up again at india, and dropped us a few minutes later at the fishing dock where Shadow awaited…. that sounds ominous - right? But Shadow was a really, really nice man, not dark and sinister at all.  We jumped into his vehicle for the six hour tour of the island and he tells us all.  Turns out that when Pirates of the Caribbean II was being filmed in Dominica back in 2005, the cast and crew spent six months on the island and Shadow was the personal driver for Johnny Depp’s Hairdresser. OK, so it wasn’t for Johnny Depp himself, but he did meet Depp several times, and got himself a fabulous hairdo.  Also turns out that Shadow was one of the few pure blood Amerinidians that were the original Indian settlers of these Caribbean islands hundreds of years ago.  They were also called Caribs by the French and English at the time, and Kalinago in their local language. These Indians came from the nearby mainlands of South America to inhabit these beautiful islands rich in natural resources.  We received the whole history lesson during the journey and really felt that we came to understand the history and the struggle of these original peoples, very few of whom are left today.  Another interesting fact we learnt was that the Chinese are heavily investing in the island.  They had, after hurricane Maria, sent construction crews over to rebuild bridges and roads, and we saw evidence of them in many places.  And a nice job they were doing too.  Shadow’s tour also took us to a local chocolate factory with a staff of three, and a lovely waterfall and pool high in the mountains where we could swim and jump into the icy cool, but greatly refreshing, water.  On the way back we had lunch at a local restaurant high up with incredible views over the bays.

After our stay in Portsmouth, we took a short 20 mile sail down the leeward (west) coast to the capital Roseau.  Here we anchored just south of the main part of town close to a local beach and local fishing area.  On our way back from a quick trip to the local supermarket there, we found a small stall selling fish caught locally , and saw a huge yellowfin tuna sitting there, barely yet butchered.  We had them cut a huge slice for us, only two pounds, but it turned out to be some of the best tuna we had eaten, and only $4 a pound.  Our local ‘boat boy’ here in Roseau was to be none other than Mr Bean.  Of course, not the real Mr Bean, but amusingly named to get more business no doubt.  He was able to help us have our European propane gas tanks filled finally, which meant that we again had the flexibility to cook on either gas or the induction plate.

Dominica was a short stay, but a very interesting island.  The terrain from offshore was stunning with soaring mountains, plunging ravines, and lush green vegetation everywhere, and on land the people were welcoming and friendly, and resourceful. And I was still hearing that stupid song as we left Roseau on our way to our next stop, Martinique. 

Dominica - nica - nica………

Rowing into the Indian river - only five legs on this boat!!

The witch Calypso's shack from Pirates of the Caribbean II

Beautiful flowers and plants abounded, the red ones are Ginger Lillies.

Guess where we are?

The Oasis that was the cocktail bar deep into Indian river serving breakfast Pina Coladas

The last client who argued with Shadow...

Wild flowers... this one is a Bird of Paradise.

The Pointe Baptiste chocolate factory, employing three people!

Real cocoa beans at the source

Waterfall high in the mountain

Dominica's lovely coastline

Guadaloupe, a little taste of France

After the amazing island of Montserrat, we sailed south to Guadeloupe - the butterfly island.  We call it that because it is shaped like a butterfly with two wing shaped islands joined in the middle.  When we left Montserrat, we were a little worried that we would not be able to sail the whole way to Guadeloupe - the winds appeared to be coming from the South East, and we needed a heading pretty much a little South of South East.  To be able to sail this boat, and most any boat come to that, the wind can be coming from almost any relative angle to the heading you want to make, except head-on, and about 45 degrees either side of that.  When you sail with the wind at a small angle to your heading, and in your face, it is called close to the wind.  You can turn the boat gradually towards the oncoming wind until a point when the boat won’t sail any more - the trick is getting just to that point, but not beyond it, for maximum efficiency - sailing close to the wind.  Anyway, we thought the wind angle might be too small and we would end up motoring all the 43 miles of open sea down to Guadeloupe, but in the event, after we cleared the bottom of Montserrat where the winds wrap around the island and become a little confused, we saw more or less an easterly wind and it was perfect to sail a port tack close reach - one of our fastest and favourite points of sail.  The wind was 20 knots with occasional gusts of 23+ and the sea state was fairly lively due to the consistent winds.  The sun shone, our clothes came off, and we had a glorious sail for several hours relishing the exciting ride - up to 10 knots of speed at times - we were really moving!

Our arrival point in Guadaloupe was a small, quaint fishing village on the tip of the left hand butterfly wing, called Deshaies.  It lies within a small natural harbour between the plunging mountains all around.  We were able to go ashore to the local Police station and make our check-in, buy baguettes and croissants and generally feel French for the day.  The tiny town is very old with some quintessentially French architecture and it could have been anywhere on the Brittany coast.  We actually both felt very much at home here, being very familiar with all things French - the wines, food, customs and way of life.  We both speak French - Dara probably a little better than I having lived amongst the French in St Martin for all those years - which makes things way easier.  In some of these remote French outposts, English is not always guaranteed to be spoken by the locals.  We found the local Supermarche just down the road from the Police Station so popped in to buy the French staples - baguettes, pate, caramel flans, cheese and local rhum - some of the best rhums in the world are made in the Caribbean islands and each has its own particular blend and style.  We were tickled to find rhum available in a three litre box - how very convenient when you drink it like water!  

We spent three nights here relaxing and enjoying the beautiful view and hospitality.  Our general method of making tracks has been to sail down the leeward (Western) coasts of the islands, since this is where most of the protected anchorages are, and also where most of the local populations prefer to inhabit due to the better weather.  And so it was here in Guadaloupe also, the next stop being Pigeon Island about halfway down the left hand butterfly wing.  This spot was part of the Cousteau (remember Jacques?) National park so we were excited to snorkel and explore the area.  As expected the snorkelling was good, but I would have to say I was a little disappointed having watched all those JC films when I was a lad - full of amazing sea creatures and colourful fish - it was a little tame by comparison but none the less, beautiful.

Next stop - Basse Terre - the capital of Guadaloupe.  Although you would think this is the place to be, we spent a quick night here, and didn't even go ashore.  One of the promises of this sailing life is that one can go to places difficult or impossible to reach by any other means, and we are becoming a little spoiled by the beautiful remote places we are starting to see, and the prospect of running around a 'touristy' town like Basse Terre is a little less appealing now.  In any case this was a perfect staging spot for our next stop at Les Iles des Saintes - exactly the remote spot we wanted to see.  We sailed to the island of Terre de Basse, the western most island of the group, and ironically the highest and most mountainous (terre de basse in French means 'low country').  On the way into our anchorage in the pretty little bay of Grand Baie (again ironically named 'Great Bay') we had a moment when we saw a fishing line (read yellow 3/4 inch polypropylene rope) stretched across in front of us as we motored at about 6 knots.  It had come adrift from a fishing pot somewhere close by and was just floating ready to catch unawares sailors by surprise.  We saw it at the last moment and had no choice but to slam the motors into neutral to avoid the line catching in the props - a potentially disastrous scenario.  The boat ran over the line with our forward momentum and I ran round the deck looking to see where it would emerge.  At this point we had stopped and the line was floating out to the side of the boat, clearly caught on something under the waterline.  I was able to grab it with the boathook, pull it up and cut it free from the long part, so we just had a relatively short length attached to the boat.  We slowly made our way with the starboard engine only to the anchorage just a few hundred feet ahead and immediately dived under the boat to untangle the line.  Luckily it had snagged on one of our hull anodes ahead of the keel and was easily removed.  Panic over.  In all the islands, especially close to land, but sometimes not, you come across all manner of home made fishing pots and FADs (fishing attraction devices) scattered all over the place.  All you might see is a plastic jug, or maybe even only a clear water bottle used as a float so the fishermen know where to retrieve them, and it becomes a slalom dodging these death-buoys.  To get a line tangled in one prop when motoring means that you will lose propulsion on one side, and potentially damage the prop/saildrive/engine.  To get the line caught in both props means you lose control of the boat.  If you are close to land, rocks, a reef, or shallow water, this could mean being blown onto that rock, reef or shallow and losing your boat.  We read about a real life case of this just recently.  One of the sailing vlogs we follow showed a brand new monohull that was leaving a South Pacific atoll in darkness in early morning, and it fouled a dive buoy that they didn't see in the exit channel and lost their only engine.  They had reef on either side, just a few yards away, and not having time or space to sail out of trouble, they were blown onto the reef and the boat was a total loss.  Scary stuff.

This small bay on Terre de Basse was a pretty spot with some good snorkelling but only good for an overnight stay.  Just a couple of miles away on the other main island of Terre de Haut (means 'high country' but again, it's the flattest island lol) was the main town of Les Saintes. When I say town, I mean large village.  This was one of the prettiest places we had stayed yet - rolling green hills, small, quaint, colourful houses with quiet beach, ancient fort on a hill overlooking the town - just beautiful.  We stayed a couple of days, and took a short hike up the steep road to the fort, built in Napoleanic days and named after him as Fort Napolean des Saintes.  Napolean spent a lot of time in the Caribbean as the French navy tussled with the British to take control of the various islands up and down the leeward and windward chain.  His mistress Josephine herself was in fact born in Martinique.

Still very much aware of the threat of hurricanes, and not yet being far enough south to completely avoid them, we stay long enough to take in the essence of these islands, but move on briskly when we are rested.  And so onto our next island - Dominica.  More or less due south, and just a short sail and a new blog away...

The view of the bay at Deshaies from the restaurant

Deshaies

Another beautiful sunset

Catching dinner

Seine fishermen in Basse Terre

Des Saintes

On the way up to the fort Napoleon

View from the top

The bay from the fort

A big rock

Monster Rat

Little Bay, Monserrat

Did that title get your attention?

It is just a silly little nickname we gave the island of Monserrat back in the 90s.  It has nothing to do with anything, it was just fun to say.  Of course the island was wholly undeserving of anything the nickname might imply being one of the most unspoiled and pristine islands in the Leeward Island chain and certainly one of my favourites.

The first time I visited in 1991, we anchored and cleared customs in the quaint and picturesque capital of Plymouth.  I remember sweet island cottages with colourful, well manicured flower gardens.  The people proud of their homes and it showed.  The buildings were neat and freshly painted and everyone was very friendly, greeting the tourists and making us all feel welcome.  They even stamp your passport with a shamrock commemorating their Irish heritage.  It was such a quiet and pleasant getaway that many famous musicians came here to record.

Of all the places I am revisiting now on this trip, Monserrat and especially this beautiful town has seen the most change.  It was completely evacuated in 1995 when the long inactive volcano of Soufrière erupted then permanently abandoned in 1997 after it was substantially burnt and mostly buried by a series of pyroclastic flows lasting several years.  I had a chance to fly over the island by helicopter in 1997 with a film crew and it was an awesome sight to behold, but a terrible story for the local population who relocated by the thousands to other islands or distant lands leaving everything behind.  Now I had a chance to come back almost thirty years later to see how the island coped with this disaster that touched all of us in neighbouring islands and the world.

It was a beautiful day sail from Nevis to the newly built port and anchorage of Little Bay in the northwest corner.  It was a small fishing village but has been transformed into a commercial port and point of entry with a stunning anchorage around the corner for yachts.  It was mostly inaccessible before but is now set up to receive visitors disembarking from inter-island ferries a few times a week and has a nice reception area with souvenir and dive shops and restaurants which support the new industry of Volcano Tours.  On good recommendation, we aligned ourselves with Joe who picked us up and gave us a very enlightening tour of the volcano and its devastating effects on the island, its communities and eco system.

It shouldn't be surprising that what is commonly understood about volcanos and what happens to a community when a volcano erupts is pure conjecture and my imaginings even after seeing the eruptions from the air were completely mistaken.  The story of Monserrat and the Soufriere volcano is fraught with scandal, political corruption, and terrible loss and Joe was just the person to give us an account because he was there when it happened and evacuated his family from his mountain home which he showed us buried in the newly grown jungle which has almost completely engulfed the evacuated areas.  He had the most incredible photos of the places to which he took us pre-eruptions which were mind blowing.  It is hard to imagine a place you've never seen when it is gone, but Joe could show us a road that leads to nowhere and then pull up a photo of a bridge or shop or neighbourhood which once existed harmoniously in that exact spot and by looking intently through the trees and growth you could see a facade or gateway or wall of a once magnificent estate or the garden of an island cottage that resembles the one in the photo.  It was hard to believe even seeing it for ourselves that the lower half of the island is indeed a ghost town now covered in jungle which flourished in the volcanic ash and proliferated over twenty years to this great extent. And sadly, there is no going back.  Most of it will never be recovered.  The people here lost everything.  Some lost their lives.

And what happened to the people?  Most of them were aware of the eruptions and it was no surprise that they were asked to relocate to safer areas but they were told that they were going away for the weekend.  Then were housed in communal shelters and never allowed to go back.  The evacuated areas were fenced off and guarded and it was nearly impossible to get back in.  When I asked about all their belongings and what they took with them, Joe pointed out that not many people would carry a lot of stuff with them for a weekend.  Even so, where would they store it all at a shelter?  Many people took personal items that they could carry only and some went back to collect things later, sometimes illegally, but anyone who could, left the island.

So here we are twenty years later.  Joe made his living for years as a taxi driver and now does well again with his volcano tours.  He says he wouldn't want to live anywhere else.  The  communities have been relocated and the northern areas are still green and luscious.  The economy is recovering and the people are as friendly as ever and willing to share their story openly and honestly.  Their resilience is astonishing and heartwarming and hopeful.  Some of the people who left have made their way back home again and the new industry of sand mining and export has provided economic growth beyond tourism, building from the ashes, so to speak.

We drove by a natural spring at the side of a road.  Embedded in the rocky cliffs is a sign that reads, "Drink here if you want to come back to Monserrat".  It is about the only thing I do remember that I could recognise about my former visit long ago.  I did drink from the fountain then and I am so glad to return to this beautiful place and witness this incredible story; one very dear to my heart and a true example of the enduring Caribbean soul. 

View from the Observatory Station

All of this jungle is new growth in the last 20 years covering residential communities.  You can still see the power lines.

Residence overgrown by jungle.

Another beautiful home buried in jungle.

Plymouth zoomed in from our vantage point.

Plymouth zoomed out.

Another damaged and abandoned house outside Plymouth.

Another view of Plymouth.

Sand mining.

New port of Little Bay

Part of the growing VOLCANO industry!