DOMINICA

We departed Carriacou island's Tyrrel Bay on January 30, just before sunset, bound for Dominica. (Pronounced “Dommi-nee'-ka”, like the old song by The Singing Nun, it is not to be confused with the Dominican Republic.) Underway, we enjoyed pleasant sailing in the island's lee, with 15-knot winds and 2-3 foot seas. As darkness fell and we began crossing the inter-island channel, conditions got a bit sportier, with winds 17-20 knots and short-period confused seas of 5-6 feet. SD sailed steadily along on starboard tack, making 5-6 knots on the wet, bumpy ride.

Conditions didn't vary much during the 33-hour, 175-mile passage. In the lee of the islands, thngs were calmer, but it got pretty rowdy in the passes, with beam seas slamming against the hull and throwing seawater up over the spray hood. We kept one hatch-board in the companionway and slid the hatch-cover closed to keep boarding seas out of the cabin.

We arrived near the Dominica Marine Center in Roseau Bay, Dominica, at 0300 on February first, and were surprised that the light of the half-moon showed only one other yacht and no apparent mooring balls, as our cruising guidebook had reported that there were 11 good moorings. We later found out that all but 2 or 3 had been lost in last year's Tropical Storm Erika. After poking around hopefully for a bit, we finally located one lonely ball, so we secured SD and fell exhausted into bed.

 

The local security guy, Marcus, was alongside at 0730, “Hello!”-ing us out of a sound sleep to welcome us. We made coffee, put the boat in order, then dinghied to the nearby little dock to fill five 5-gallon jugs with fresh water. We hauled that back to SD, who was as salty as a potato chip, and scrubbed every inch of her from the decks up.

At mid-day we went ashore for a look-see. A cruise ship was in, so the narrow streets with their colorful shops were full of wandering tourists being pursued by determined local guides hawking tours of the interior's lakes, waterfalls, and rainforest.

 

Seeking a nice local lunch, we were disappointed to find that all the little eateries sold basically the same meal, of a type dating back to the days of slavery. It consists of a small portion of fish, stewed chicken or pork, rice, peas, a little shredded lettuce/cabbage salad, and a generous serving of what is called “provision”. This last item gets its name from crops planted in the small garden plots on which plantation owners permitted their slaves to grow food. Cheap, calorie-rich and nutritionally poor, these provisions (thus the name) consist primarily of any starchy root vegetable, like yucca or taro. The term is still seen frequently on local Caribbean menus today, and is always some starchy root-type item. Short on flavor, it's usually stewed with a bit of chicken or pork.

This was definitely not the meal we were craving, so back we went to our dock, and its charming little restaurant/bar called The Loft. Here we found some of the best rum punch we've ever tasted, with a very generous “pour” of rum. So good that we each ordered a second. Then a third. (Our server looked a little surprised at number three.) We'd almost forgotten that we were hungry, but the menu listed many temptiing goodies, and our hummus (home-made!) wrap and smoked marlin warp were big, delicious, and filling. Hunger sated, thirst quenched, and energy flagging after our abbreviated sleep, we headed back home.

Over the next few days we topped up our diesel, filled our water tanks, did some laundry, and had some more rum punch. Our AIS (electronic avoidance system for ships) had developed a glitch, so we located a DHL office and shipped it off to New Zealand for repair. One afternoon over rum punch at The Loft, we met cruisers Phil and Sarah from the UK on “Serenity of Swanwick”. Two days later, over more rum punch (you heard me), we ran into old friends from Canada, Michael and Sheila aboard “Kantala”, whom we hadn't seen in years. 
 

We took a long hike up a steep little paved road to “Morne Bruce”, a peak that offers a bird's-eye view of Roseau and the Bay, then descended along a dirt path through cool, shady, dense jungle, emerging at the lovely botanical gardens. An arresting sight in the gardens is the remains of a yellow bus which met its demise when an enormous baobob tree fell on it during TS Erika. Erika had little wind, but dumped 10 inches of rain on the island over a couple of hours, causing flooding, landslides, and several deaths.

Sunday, February 7^th, a bright sunny day, we slipped our mooring and motor-sailed 19 miles north in variable winds to huge Prince Rupert Bay at the town of Portsmouth. Here there is access to multiple lovely natural attractions, particularly the amazing Indian River.

The Indian River Guides formed an association called PAYS (Portsmouth Association of Yacht Services). This helpful, professional group of young men provide an abondanza of yacht services, running tours, helping yachties procure food, ice, or water, act as water taxis, run nighttime security patrols in the anchorage, and much more. As we entered the 2-mile-long bay, we were greeted by PAYS member “Providence” (real neame Martin), and once we'd dropped our hook, he came alongside to invite us to PAYS' Sunday evening beach BBQ. For $50 EC (about $18 US) we'd enjoy all-you-can-eat BBQ (fish, chicken, pork, salad) and unlimited rum punch, with music and dancing afterward. Our kind of party!

So we dinghied ashore at 6:30 that evening, dragged the dinghy up on the beach and left our shoes in it, and found it all as promised. About 200 people attended, sitting at picnic tables in the PAYS sand-floored beach pavilion and enjoying an excellent meal. (No provision here!) After we'd all eaten, the tables and benches were stacked to one side, the DJ cranked up some tunes, and there was dancing in the sand. We were having so much fun (and so much rum!) that we didn't go home until after 10 pm, which is pretty later for us!

The following morning Providence picked us up for a 2-hour tour of the Indian River. This lovely pristine river is off-limits to private dinghies, and outboards are not allowed, so the river guides row their passengers along the river. The river is narrow and thickly bordered with huge swamp foliage, enormous bloodwood trees, towering bamboo and coconut palms, and long dangling vines.

 

We saw occasional fish, crabs, and herons, but the cathedral-like canopy was dark and pretty quiet, with the occasional creaking of trees making it almost spooky. This atmosphere was used to advantage in the second “Pirates of the Caribbean” movie. On a little tributary they built a tiny shack in the mangroves which was the home of the voodoo witch Tia Dalma, known also as the goddess Calypso.

 

We continued along the river to a Rasta jungle bar near the river's head, where we stopped for a brief trail hike and a cool drink. (No, not rum – guava juice for Ken, coffee punch for Katie.) Providence proved to be a terrific tour guide, knowledgeable and entertaining, offering fascinating commentary on local nature, culture, and history.

The town itself was completely closed down for the official pre-Lenten holidays of “Juvee” (“Jouvert”) Monday, with its pre-dawn street party, and Carnival Tuesday, with its evening “jump-up”. We decided to try a recommended hike on our own, but with the somewhat vague directions we had, it only took us about 10 minutes to get lost. We gave up on that, but on the way home we were stopped by taxi-driver Alick in his “Red October Taxi”, who offered to take us on a land tour up over the top of the island, along the east coast, and through the interior. This sounded like a swell plan, so we spent the next three hours driving through some lovely parts of Dominica, an island with 8 volcanoes and 365 rivers.

Our route over the mountains, with multiple switchbacks, took us to heights from which we could see the distant islands of Marie Galante and Guadeloupe. Then we descended to the coast, where booming Atlantic surf, travelling all the way from Africa, thunders on wicked-looking rocks with names like “the Gates of Hell”. Along the way we passed thick lush foliage, and trees of lemon, sour orange, banana, plantain, coconut, apricot, papaya, and mango. Alick walked with us along a trail to cold sufurous bubbling volcanic springs, and picked wild sweet raspberries for us along the way. Our final walk was in an unusual area called “Red Rocks”, which bears a loose resemblance to the surface of Mars.

 

 

Dominica will be remembered as a very special and unique island, but once again, a weather window beckons. So we look north toward the French island of Guadeloupe, and the pretty little fishing village of Deshaies on her wes coast. Au revoir!

Cheers & beers (and a little rum punch!), K&K

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