Sailing Journal Part 3

Friday, April 4
Carol cleared her and dad out of customs at 8, while I apparently left the country illegally. We headed out around 9:30 and by 9:45 I remembered what I didn't like about sailing the last time I did it 13 years ago. It makes me throw up. Per dad and Carol, it was a GREAT sail. Apparently, we were averaging 7 1/2 knots the whole way with a beam reach and full sails (main and gennie). All I know is that several times the dinghy almost JOINED us in the cockpit. I did manage to swallow a Dramamine and felt a little better. We sailed around the bottom of the butterfly's Basse Terre section. Basse Terre means “low land,” but this side of Guadaloupe is mountainous! The water was a deep, intense blue and there are lots of little flying fish! As we circled the tip, the island became enshrouded in low heavy clouds - it was surreal - almost mystical!

I must say that I was completely impressed with dad's sailing abilities, as well as his cooperation abilities, neither of which I ever knew he had (and in fact, I am still wondering if this really happened). He communicates and works real good with Carol in the boat management, and he never once barked an order. Even his cursing was very restrained!! Of course, she is not one to take much crap from what I can tell. He looks natural behind a wheel of a boat, and Carol knows exactly what she is doing with those sails and the anchor.

We parked, or dropped anchor, in the bay outside the marina in Basse Terre, and just relaxed a bit. I was finally hungry, having not eaten anything since last night's cheese and crackers so I ravaged the kitchen...er...galley. Stinky cheese and french bread - a veritable FEAST!. Dad scoped out the marina in the dinghy and then we moved in, squeezing in next to a Polish racing boat. We walked out of the marina and up a hill, along the highway, and as we came over the top of the hill, we saw the ancient fort, and then around the corner was the town of Basse Terre- One minute we were walking in weeds and dirt alongside the highway, and POOF, the next, we were on a paved, landscaped shore walk, complete with iron benches and potted plants. We walked a while and came to where some trailers were setting up. Someone had loaded out some speakers and music was cranking; food vendors gathered and we found ourselves in the right spot at the right time.

It turns out that every Friday, the tourist bureau puts on a Welcome party - there were samples of the local rum, and the ladies brought their favorite delicacies...little cheese quiches, coconut cookies, and fresh home made almond ice cream. I struck up a conversation with the girl from the tourist bureau and then met a girl from Paris who had just moved to Basse Terre with her husband. The tourist center girl gave us dancing lessons and told us about some of the history of the island. For dinner, we grabbed some food from the vendors. Dad and Carol had some kind of quesadilla/crepe looking thing, and I had this giant beignet with a chicken, cheese mixture stuffed inside. I don't know what it was called, but it sure tasted good.

We walked back to the marina in the dark, and managed not to get run over, OR fall off the cliff onto the rocks below....I star gazed a while with the high power binoculars, since the lights here were less than those in Point a Pitre. Sleeping was not as comfortable tonight as there was no breeze in this marina, and it was pretty warm.

To Be Continued