Racing in the Caribbean

The Caribbean 600!!! 600 (or there abouts) nautical miles of offshore racing, around the Caribbean Leewards Islands!

Talk about a 'Baptism of Fire'. My first ever proper race (the Pursuit Race doesnt really count) and it was three and a bit days offshore in 15 to 25 knots of wind, 4m high swell and a crew of 10 (half of whom are um double my age or more)

What Fun!!!!

It was challenging enough to make it interesting and relaxed enough to be fun!

Strangely, afterwards when we were chatting about it, a few of our more distinguished crew members and Moanina (a female crew member renamed for her favourite pastime - i mean seriously, who comes on an all expenses paid trip to race offshore and on the first night announces that she hates offshore racing....and that was only the beginning) maintained that this was one of the most difficult offshore races that they had done. Granted it was exhausting but then again, I was up at all hours preparing whatever people wanted to eat or drink, in a boat that was teetering dramatically close to what felt like a 90' heel and slamming into waves with a passion that would put a prize bronco to shame. The crew believed that the most tiring part was moving around the boat but the only time they were required to do this was coming on and off watch and for tacks or jibes....Anyway.

Luckily we have not yet become TOO superstitious as sailors go. The morning of the race dawned with the usual frenzy of activity, getting sails up, crew fed, last minute fresh bread purchases etc. Activity came to an abrupt halt as the Captain/Skipper rushed down the companionway stairs clutching his bleeding hand. The safety catch on his leatherman had failed and the knife he was using in the all important task of opening bags of ice, had snapped shut cutting his pinky to the bone. While we were trying to stop the bleeding an Irish member of our crew ran to the boat next door where he knew there was a doctor on their crew (a fellow Irishman that he had shared a taxi from the airport with) The cheerful Irish doctor patched our Skipper back together with two stiches and a can of cocacola. So began our race.

Out we sailed to the start line, using every available minute before the gun to perfect crossing the line at maximum speed. Unfortunately our start was a mixed up scurry of problem solving as during our final tack before the tack over the startline I managed to get a rider in the primary winch holding the genoa sheet. What I was doing tailing this all important winch at this critical moment, I still do not understand, but somehow all the experienced crew were busy with something else. No matter, we crossed in style (if late) and sat determinedly on the rail, in our striking blue crew shirts, looking contrastingly dazzling with the smooth white hull of our speed demon, for all the professional photographers to enjoy.

The galley more heeled over than i have ever seen it before

The poor galley simply could not keep up with the heel of the boat. The stove could not gimble enough and the stew/curry/whatever kept sloshing out of the pan. If you look carefully in the sink you can see that it was filling with water. This was because the boat was heeled over so much that the sink outlet was below waterlevel. Yip, that white line of water you can see in the basin is the level of the sea. What fun conditions to provided sustenance for 10 people. My injuries included: burnt feet from emptying the scalding curry over them (you try and figure out the ridiculous angle a tray of curry has to be taken out of the oven at when the boats at that angle), stripe burns on my thighs from the oven falling open onto them on several occasions and a chunk of flesh trying to escape from my finger.

Dont try and catch a broken dish as it tacks itself across the boat at high velocity (after 3 days healing at sea, how stupidly embarrassing)

Despite the owners and guests (sorry, crew) being on board there is no place for hotel pristine in racing. Our A-Symmetric kite tied to the couch.

The course was a wonderful 'Mixed Bag' of upwind beating and reaching and running with the kite. My sole responsibility in terms of ondeck duties during tacks and jibes was tacking the waterbottles. Having found myself on the rail with the water rolling around on the low side of the boat on several occasions, I took this position upon myself. Jokes aside, the crew was great. It was wonderful watching such an experienced bunch of people working together to manoeuvre the boat just so. I had several moments thinking of family. On quite a regular basis Gran's saying "Too many chiefs and not enough Indians" came to mind (the poor Captain really had his job cut out for him with so many experienced opinions on board) and Granddad, it seems i was wrong when I told you we dont really stay wet for all that long...I was wet for 3 and a bit days (while everyone else took advantage of the downwind streches for the luxuary of a shower/wetwipe down and change of clothes, I was frantically preparing all the lunch and desserts necessary for the next leg - dinners were sitting ready in the freezer)

Flying our kite around Rodonda. Inhabitants: a few well discussed goats (thats what happens after 3 days on the rail)

At 1.07pm on Thursday we crossed the finish line with much relief and jubilation!

On the arrivals dock our finger injured were whisked off for medical attention (the final one being Moanina who, despite her 30 years sailing experience, out her hand on the mainsheet as it swung over dragging her finger into the block and literally exploding the tip off. Gross!) Then it was all beers and showers. Taking down the brand new foresail 5 holes were counted (dont ask, its basically a story involving the sailmaker being a member of the crew; the leech line breaking about 3 hours after the start etc etc etc) and it was noted that had we continued sailing for another day our genoa halyared would have exploded.... Fun times and now lots to fix!!!

My shorts practically walking out the door without me. Not kidding, they are so salty they are standing up all on their own.

Oh yes, at the end of it all a full 3rd of the fleet had retired and our results were:

We came 3rd in our class, which was the biggest class i'll have you know (2nd beat us by 5 MINUTES - 3 days racing and they beat us by 5 minutes....ah well);

9th under the one handicap; 12 under the other and

we won Best Swan :)

Happy days! what fun and thank Poseidon (and Dr Fourie) for seasick tablets that work!!!!!

My Birthday and the rest of February

February is the month of our first race, the Captain's birthday and my birthday... But before all that we decided to explore the interior of the island and all the city of St Johns had to offer.

For the first time on our travels we found a cinema that played...movies...in...English!!!!! Ah the small things

Caribbean Cinemas offer a personalised service: Us and our neighbours keeping the cinema open

Back to Crab um Cove, Corner, um Point. Well Crab Something for a swim and a drink at OJ's

But February is not all about play. We had to get the boat ready to race. This means taking anything that posseses any sort of mass off the boat. Everything from the engine spare parts, bow roller, anchor and chain, to the food deemed excess and my beloved cook books. We were by no means a dry boat so some alcohol had to be kept on board (a pitiful two bottles of red, two bottles of white and two bottles of Rose...per day of the 10 day trip) But the rest had to go.

The alcohol that did not make the cut for the race. Baring in mind that we have already purged the boat once before crossing the Atlantic.

Time for my birthday. I had previously requested the day off from the Captain as last year we were so busy we ended up working. My oh my was i spoilt!!! I woke somewhat confused as my usual awakening smell of rooibos tea had been replaced by a rubbery smell. The Captain had covered my bunk with balloons and was merrily baking away in my galley. After bouncing the balloons all over the boat and sketching some party guests (Sarah the bilge cat and Endangered Mouse) who positively flew around, thanks to the fan, we breakfasted on chocolate cake alla Captain. While the Captain dozed the cake off (he doesnt do so well with all that chocolate) I got to speak to you all at home :) Then it was off to my surprise day.

A brilliant Braai. No man need fear the shame of a non starter again!

I was whisked away with a coolerbox and some bulging shopping bags to Halfmoon Bay. On arrival i was introduced to The Braai in the Box. What a wonderful invention. Simply an aluminium tray with a grate on top and braai coals covered in a flammable bag inside, it is easy to light and ready in a moment. The Captain put men the world over to shame, bringing both meat AND side dishes to a braai. We steadily filled ourselves with steak and sausage, hummus and chips, cheese and crackers and there was even a selection of salad ingredients....left untouched... oh and of course melon.

After the braai (and um well nearly 20min) we rolled ourselves into the Caribbean equivalent of surf for a snorkel. To bring the perfect day to a close we sipped the sun down with a bottle of Champagne.

The view from our braai spot

January exploring Antiguan beaches

It is time to explore some of Antigua's 365 beaches. Yes yes, one for every day of the year and all that. Tragically our beach visits have been kiteless. We learnt our lesson the hard way. To back track a few months: We wanted to learn how to kite-surf in Sicily during winter. Due to the lack of cold enthusiast instructors, the only way open to us was to buy our stuff from the friend of a friend (yes, an offer we couldn't refuse..and all that) and basically make our own way after a 'lesson' with the kite seller. This is Sicily so things are of a certain um quality but whats a girl to do? We struggled with our depowered kites in the winter gusts, watching them fall out of the sky, all the time knowing there was something set up wrong. So now we're finally in kite-surfing paradise, on a beach perfectly designed to learn, with an instructor who has American enthusiasim and Swiss precision, and he even fixed our depower problem by resetting our lines. What happens? The Captain's kite leaked on inflation and mine started whistling after a couple of hours use. Yes, Tonno kites are an awesome design but well, the quality is um shall we say at the lower end of the Chinese scale. After taking them apart to try and fix the offending bladders we saw the extent of the poor construction. After exploring internet options we have found bladder replacement is an option but of course that requires time and organisation. So for now, kiteless beach exploration.

The conclusion of the babble is that we are currently choosing our beaches for their view and swimming as opposed to their wind angle and easy launches.

Rendezvous Beach, a welcome sight after a beautiful albeit hot hike.

Saturday was picnic day. Having recently procured some proper bacon (not the American kind that is 90% fat surrounding small islands of meat) Bacon sandwiches were made and we were on our way to Rendezvous Beach. Driving almost to the top of the hill dividing our bay from its, we parked and readied ourselves for the hike. It was a lot shorter than we thought and well worth the effort. It’s a stretch of shoreline only accessible on foot, by boat or a decently driven 4x4.

Rendezvous Beach, Swim as far as you like in this 'Caribbean Blue' swimming pool

After helping a motor boat set their anchor we got down to some serious snorkeling (hmmm what do you call it when you dont use a snorkle? I spend most of my time under the water and havent mastered the use of a snorkel under these conditions...so i dont bother with one. Cinderellasis, you might appreciate that)

Beautiful fun.

Returning we passed a rare sight: Cows!!! On an island of goats, the cow is king!

Sunday was designated cooking day as the Captain has been craving fresh pasta which, despite the oddly large Italian population on the island, is not available at a Sicilian standard (their cooking beats their kites any day!) So Raviolli stuffed with Wahoo in a tomato garlic sauce it was. With lunch done and the Captain on a biscotti making mission, I had to escape before cabin fever set in and so began a solo mission to a beach near Jolly Harbour.

Beach near Jolly Harbour. Perfect for some desert flying...

When on a food hunt i drove past it and swore there would be a return trip. Back i was and so were the sandflies. But the breeze kept them off and the swimming was incredible....flat blue waters so clear you can see the patterns in the sand 3m down. Hmmmm, Imagine flying high over an extensive sand desert. Crystal clear, essentially still water has that effect on the swimming view.

Wonderfully free!

Making Lasagne with the fresh pasta.

When you have fresh pasta what do you do? Make Lasagne. Of course there is the required bottle of wine (um I'm sure you could put some in the lasagne if you wanted to). This is the bottle of Eolian Rescue fame. Yip, the one and the same bottle that the captain was given for rescuing the media mogul from down under with the same name as a member of the A-team. It was yummy!

The galley turned into a pasta factory.

I assure you with no bias at all that that tagliatelle is by far the best I have ever tasted. Italian chefs weep, you have been outdone by a British-German. It is tasty and light, fulling you up without 'sitting' in your stomach or overpowering the sauce (which in all honesty is unnecessary if you have a good bottle of olive oil, a little pepper and maybe even a sprinkle of parmesan for the sake of extravagance....)

Interesting mud-stone rock formations at the point of Half Moon Bay

Another Weekend brings another beach. This time the gorgeous Half Moon Bay.

There were quite a few Americans frequenting this corner of paradise, recognised by the enthusiasm surrounding them, their coolerboxes filled with Corona and of course the mandatory ‘football’ (not to be mistaken for a soccer ball, a mistake which is obviously only possible in print).

The um tarantula holes

We walked the curve of the bay and noticed rather a lot of people decorated with dry mud in a sort of health spa fashion. Intrigued we rounded the point following the trail of mud-people. We discovered some intriguing mud-rock rock formations, another bay with a resort, an island within swimming distance, some alleged tarantula holes (um near the sea could they possibly be crab holes?) but no communal mud-source

A Panoramic view of Half Moon Bay.

Half Moon Bay from the centre of the beach curve. Um yes, stitching photos when there are waves involved is well yes, you see.

Exploring Antigua - Falmouth Harbour and English Harbour

Becoming intimately acquainted with the local Antiguan Flora. Nope the plaster is from a Christmas day UDI. Dont ask...I dont know.

Exploring Antigua is a dangerous affair, especially when you leave the path. But there was this cave and these two little kids, you know, of the mountain goat variety, not the screaming, sweet demanding type...

The kids we followed off the mountain top. They did seem intrigued by the 2 legged creatures that had insisted on leaving the path

There were a few incidents that could have taught Charlie Chaplin a thing or two. Like the moment I was innocently descending a gravel slope (in my slops of course), slipped, landed my butt in a cactus, my cherished Hiking/Snake Defence stick flying into the air only to land on the back of my head. I kid you not! (definitely not the goat or sweet kind) But the views were well worth it.

English Harbour from our hiking view point. Well, half way there.

English Harbour is where Nelson used to shelter when he had control of the Royal Navy here. Apparently it’s a hurricane hole so boats can safely shelter here during the hurricane season. Um well, not safe enough for the insurance companies so we get to leave at the end of winter. We're actually anchored in Falmouth Harbour at the moment which is a five minute walk away. Its bigger than English Harbour and despite the fleet of yachts that would make Nelson jealous anchored in the bay (without holding tanks i'm sure) it is still THE popular spot for wake-boarding given its calm waters.

Some Antiguan Fauna. Cute, quick and everywhere

Now its back to the boat for more varnishing and recipe research. Hmmm how many times in 2 weeks can you serve chicken??? Basically there is no beef on the island and our lovely owner's wife doesnt eat fish...but she does eat seafood, just not squid...or anything that tastes fishy...or couscous...or pasta more than um once...and please can we have some variety. Now there's a challenge. Anyone know how to cook a Yam? There seem to be an abundance of this root, a plethora of breadfruit recipes but no breadfruit and few yam recipes.

At least its doable as i now own FOUR Caribbean cookbooks!

Caribbean - Dominica

At the end of the River Tour is of course a bar, serving of course rum punch. Yum yum it was good rum punch and dried us off, on the inside at least.

Indian River Bar, complete with logs turned into tiny rough furniture.

The bar was typically no more than a roof held up by some poles with the furniture and necessary bar to hold the patrons and liquor respectively. Less is definitely more in this place as the lack of walls provides rainforest decor (and i would imagine means less to rebuild after a hurricane). In the middle of the picture below the dangling pink vegetation is their version of our Bird of Paradise. It really is quite astounding how similar the plants and animals here are to home!

Drinking in the jungle. (view and rum punch)

Sailing away from Dominca we realised that the 24hours we had spent in the rain had not been experienced by those a couple of miles offshore. It would seem that Dominica lives under its own, very exclusive raincloud. This does mean that, having the highest rainfall of the area, it is a stunning island rainforest which has luckily been preserved from development, damaging tourism and local poaching (if you are found with as much as a single feather from a parrot you face up to 5 years in prison...)

Dominica and her raincloud.

Leaving Dominica another long but fun sail brought us to Antigua. Less rain and less sun meant more pleasant sailing with less sunburn. You gotta love the Caribbean constant 15 to 20 knots wind. This was a day of absolutely awesome sailing which made me realise just how lucky I am to be on such a fabulous yacht as this particular Swan! She is a wonderfully balanced, 60 footer who simply plows elegantly through the water. The Captain hadn’t lost his fishing touch and we hauled in a biggy! (yes 'we', I was the one with the sailing gloves on that had to hold it still so the hook could be removed) From our handy fish chart we deduced it was a billfish or um maybe a baby marlin or um one of those kind of big fish. It was so big and so beautiful that, yes bleeding hearts and all that, we threw it back. It seemed no worse for wear from its brief yachting excursion, making a speedy swim for freedom after being unceremoniously dumped back in the sea.

Our temporary guest, the BillFish or Baby Marlin or um one of those kind of fish

So our story restarted in St Lucia where the guests left and the boat needed to be cleaned um after 9 men lived on her for 18 days...ja well no fine... At least the captain made a start on it for me. But there were all the after party events for the ARC to relax at in the evenings, not to mention the continuous live marimba music and permanent holiday feel

St Lucia, Rodney Bay. Where it all began....again

With just the two of us on board we decided to do two long day sails with a two night stop-over in Dominica so that we could clear customs and of course do some exploring. Anchored outside Portsmouth we learnt just how long and loud the locals can party...that would be: all night and audible right across the bay. We were so tired from the trip it was no worry to us to fall into deep sleep to the reggae beat.

Dominica Island, Portsmouth. Rain, rainbows, rivers, reggae and rest.

The following day we woke to discover that the locals dont actually need sleep and their DJs dont ever lose their voice. Yip, the party was still going with the reggae booming and the crowd being hyped up by the still enthusiastic, louder than the music, same as the evening before DJ. We were then reminded to chose our local contact with the promise that on doing so all the others would leave us alone. That's how we met Albert the local river guide and were persuaded that our one venture ashore should be in a boat.

The Indian River during the 30sec interval that it wasn't raining.

Off we set in Albert's row boat and the rain (Dominica is one massive rainforest) up the Indian River. Here we have another name trying to preserve history: the Indian River is so named for the Carib Indians that used to live there and their food, the Arawak tribe. The Caribs are the tribe of cannibalistic fame, remember them in the Pirates of the Caribbean?

Another local Dominican inhabitant. I'm sure you recognise this one from home. They are everywhere!

We were very shortly informed that this was not simply a tour up a rainforest river on a Caribbean Island, including detailed teachings on the intriguing fauna and flora...no no not just that. This was also a tour of the film sets of Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and 3. 'Do you remember the witches house in the mangrove? It was right there' Apparently the all knowing, persistent Albert and his boat were employed for the filming of the movies, to ferry the stars around and fill in as an extra...

One of the few predators to live on the island (along with the 'None of them are poisonous' snakes) and apparently a vegetarian...???

Too much time has passed to try and catch up the bits in between. Needless to say there was the trip from Sicily to Palma with the regular crew of the Captain’s pro friends and some newbies; the work time in Palma and the fun trip from Palma through the Straits of Gibraltar to the Canary Island of Las Palmas.

Our dolphin escort from Palma to Las Palmas

After getting the boat ready for the crossing with its 8 guests, it was sad goodbyes and happy trip home to the wonderful wide open spaces of South Africa and the friends and family they hold. Our favourite but not so PC dinner in Las Palmas....yip those poor force fed ducks

It was perfect timing being in Cape Town for the fun wedding of a cousin, bringing almost the entire clan together. Then on to Grahamstown to visit a very missed Gran and to be pampered and exercised with laughter (and of course the bouncing boob brigade...that’s a fun story in itself). And finally home to the farm for fun and family and to see my ‘puppy’ that despite what he or I might think, is perhaps no longer actually a puppy (you try telling an affectionate full grown Rottweiler it’s no longer supposed to sit on your lap)Just one of Cape Town's spectacular beaches