We always have a plan, and those who know us well will be aware that the plan for our first season in the Caribbean involved following the main regattas. In fact, our carefully timed Atlantic crossing ended intentionally in Grenada, in time for Grenada Racing Week at the end of January.
All enquiring potential visitors have been sent the Caribbean race season schedule for 2020 and 2021 and we said the big events are where we are aiming to be on those dates, if you want to look at flights in preparation for a trip out here to see us. Ed immediately took us up on it and booked for St Maarten regatta dates with Anna at the start of March 2020. Simon and Krystina Lushey were thinking of coming to meet us for Antigua Week in May 2020, but luckily decided to delay until next year due to a health issue.
Greg had been chatting to people he knew who had racing boats over here and intended to crew on something faster than our 21 tonner......but several events changed our plans;
- In February, Greg had to return to UK from Grenada to see a specialist about his increasingly painful hip, and the op was then amazingly scheduled on the NHS for April 2nd.
- Whilst in the UK, Greg saw his 96-year-old mum and although still fully compos mentis, she had developed a leg ulcer which was preventing her walking and had to go into hospital for intravenous antibiotics, to try to improve it.
- Once back from the UK and on our way to meet Ed, Greg fell onto the dock in St Barts whilst carrying the outboard motor down the passerelle, and cracked some ribs. He was in agony for several weeks, which put paid to any racing plans.
- The spread of Covid 19
So, after a couple of lovely weeks in Grenada, in February, we already knew that our plans were going to be adjusted this year, with not much racing involved, but what we didn’t realise was how changed our plans were going to be due to Covid.
Like most people at sea, we follow the daily news online. When we arrived in Grenada at the end of January having had three weeks without news, the Corona Virus outbreak in China seemed fairly distant and we hoped it would burn itself out.
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| Driving the dinghy in Port Louis Marina, St George |
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| Grenada Sailing Week Workboat Regatta |
In the last two weeks of February, we left Grenada, working our way north to our rendezvous with Ed for the beginning of March, stopping off at the islands of Carriacou, Bequia, Nevis, and Martinique. We were blissfully ignorant of what was to come, as we sauntered on white sandy beaches, marvelled at the diving pelicans and huge turtles, tested endless rum punches and browsed the quirky high streets.
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| Valentine's Day in Bequia |
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| Floating bar in Bequia |
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| Fireside at a beach restaurant in Nevis |
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| Even before Covid, the beaches were pretty much deserted |
The only downer happened in Nevis when we were checking in. Our dinghy was tied up to the dock and whilst we were at the check in office, a massive ferry came in and created a wave which caused our dinghy to catch under the pier and flip. Yes, the horror on our return to find that my much loved birthday present (the new Yamaha outboard motor for those of you who haven’t been following all of our blogs) had been underwater and obviously wouldn’t start now that it was full of salt water. It was a long row upwind back to Viridian, 30 minutes later Greg was showing distinct signs of a sense of humour failure. Luckily we hadn’t thrown away our old 2-stroke Mercury and (thanks to Kevin having serviced it before he left to fly back to the UK) we were able to continue to use the dinghy without rowing until we got the Yamaha engine fixed in St Maarten.
We arrived in Fort de France on Martinique and discovered a new level of sophistication. Martinique is a department of France, so it operates as part of the EU. This is very helpful to us as we do not get bank charges on every transaction and our phone packages work here as in Europe,.... at least until the end of this year when we leave the EU. It has larger, well stocked supermarkets and a range of other stores we recognise from Europe.
We hired a car and went to visit Mont Pelee - the active volcano; the Depaz plantation and rum distillery; and the Museum of Vulcanicity in St Pierre, all of which we would highly recommend. We were particularly fascinated by the story of the volcanic eruptions in the early part of the 20th century, the apparent danger of listening to non-experts, the folly of many people actually going on a trip to watch the eruption and the huge loss of life. over 30,000 were killed and only two people actually survived,.... one was safe in a jail cell.
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| Inside the distillery |
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| The water wheel and distillery in the background |
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| Fabulous grounds and gardens around the plantation buildings |
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| The view from the carpark stopping point for the walk up to Mt Pelee! We decided to give it a miss. |
We also spotted the Botanical Gardens but there was a huge queue, so we decided to return another day and instead contented ourselves driving through the breath taking tropical rainforest.
As we were wandering round the shops in Fort de France, we were marvelling at all of the weird and exotic clothing…then the penny dropped - they were gearing up for their Mardi Gras Carnival and we had front row anchorage position.
Since we had accidentally but fortuitously arrived in time and the carnival was due to start in a couple of days we decided to stay on to experience it. We learned that each day had a different theme with significant and historical meaning and there was a cross gender element underpinning some of the days. In simple terms for dressing up purposes there was an Anything Goes/Multicolour theme on Saturday and Sunday, a Burlesque Wedding themed day on Monday, a Red and Black Devilish day on Shrove Tuesday and then on Ash Wednesday Black and White Mourning day for the death of the Vaval/Carnival King who is symbolically burned at nightfall.
By this time we had met up with Jacqueline and Iain on FatJax, who were moored near us on their beautiful yacht. With our Royal Ocean Racing Club ensigns and blue hulls in common, we started chatting and got on really well, so we hit the carnival together after discussing whether we were dressing up or not. We got more into it as things went along! It was a brilliant few days and we will definitely return next year.
We were really getting into the Caribbean vibe, being constantly on anchor and feeling pleased that we had bought our new solar panels which along with the watermaker were now indispensable.
Increasingly however, we were feeling uneasy as we closely watched the daily news. When our friends posted pictures of their skiing holidays in Italy, marvelling at the empty slopes, it dawned on us that things were rapidly changing. I had a conversation with my cousin Kathryn, who was booked to go on her annual long stay to Venice and we both decided it might be best to cancel, as she often suffers in winter from bronchial problems. That proved to be a very sensible decision, because days later Italy locked down, skiers were sent home and it became obvious that the virus was spreading rapidly in Europe.
Meanwhile, all was apparently as normal in the UK. Ed and Anna had no problem flying out to Saint Maarten on 1st March and we had a lovely time partying at the regatta events and visiting other islands such as Anguilla.
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| Deserted islands with the whitest sand |
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| On anchor in Anguilla |
In that two-week period during Ed's visit however, things were changing rapidly here. We were hearing reports of the virus being on cruise ships. Our friends Brian and Sandie who were also in St Maarten for the regatta on Persephone, decided to return home to the US and they set sail immediately after the regatta ended.
Our first real moment of realisation occurred when we were in buzzing Phillipsburg and there were three cruise ships docked in the port. One of them left but half an hour later it returned. Manic blue flashing lights alongside alerted us to a fleet of ambulances parked by the gangplank. We wondered what was happening but then the ambulances left, and the cruise ship went out to sea, so we went to bed as usual. The next day, we were in a local bar talking to the barmaid who told us that there were infected people on the Costa Magica and from the following day all cruise ships were banned from Saint Maarten. The two remaining cruise ships left that day. The restaurant, bar staff and tourist shop owners were very concerned about what was going to happen to their livelihood - little did they know how bad it was going to become....
Greg and I said goodbye to Ed and Anna who had booked a hotel next to the beach in Phillipsburg for their last two nights, so that we could head south to Martinique. We had flights booked from Martinique to Gatwick via Paris for the 20th March and had already booked Viridian into the marina in Martinique so that we could leave her for a couple of months while Greg recovered in the UK from his hip operation.
We were becoming increasingly concerned so Greg made calls to check his operation was still on schedule and we were told it was. The virus was now raging in Italy and spreading quickly in Spain and France, so we also checked our flights and were assured they were still fine. Ed messaged us to say that everything had closed in Phillipsburg and they were now staying in a ghost town, they were the only people on the beach and all shops, bars and restaurants were empty or had closed. It was like a turned off tap and quite disconcerting to have been in the bustle one day and the silence the next.
We sailed south and arranged to meet up again with Jax and Iain on FatJax in Guadeloupe. Jax had tried to book a restaurant for us all to go out to dinner, but was told that everything was closing that day and no restaurants would be open the following day, so Jax kindly cooked one of her fab meals on board their boat. We spent much of the evening discussing our plans for hurricane season – we were heading south, and they were heading north, but we agreed to meet up again the following race season, hopefully with Greg’s new bionic hip.
We then sailed south to Les Isles De Saintes which is a lovely cluster of islands, but as we anchored, we could see the beach was deserted and I said ‘Greg, I think all the bars and restaurants are closed’. I swear Greg’s bottom lip was quivering momentarily! Undeterred and in disbelief, Greg launched the dinghy and we went in search of life as we knew it. It was not to be. We immediately encountered a crowd of people who had obviously arrived from somewhere like Dominica on a ferry and were shocked to find they couldn’t do anything except sit outside the ferry terminal and await a return journey. There was a very low mood everywhere. We found a very small, understocked supermarket which alarmingly stank of cockroach killer and so we didn’t linger there for long.
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| Iles des Saintes looked pretty...but it was closed |
The next morning we set off to Dominica. No problems there, we checked in, strolled around the shops and on the beach and then went out to dinner. Little did we know that was the last restaurant supper for a very long time. Luckily it was delicious – lobsters in garlic and chilli at Madiba. We will definitely be re-visiting next season, all being well, as we still dream of that meal.
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| Worth a visit if you get to Dominica |
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| Double rainbow in Dominica |
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| Dominica is very mountainous and it was cloudy and rainy all the time we were there |
At this stage, we began to take stock of what we had in our cupboards. Ed had made it back to the UK and his company immediately put everyone on home working. This was the period of ‘toiletpapergate’. Ed sent me a photo of his cupboard supplies which looked OK for a few days if you don’t mind a lot of carb.
Miranda works for Flykick, a fitness company, so it was no surprise to hear that things were winding down and before long, both of our children were locked down in their separate flats with their flatmates in Clapham. Thank goodness for WhatsApp!
We checked out of Dominica and hotfooted it down to Fort de France in Martinique in good time for our flights and we tried to check in to the country. The normal check in place was closed, as were all the shops except for a couple of supermarkets. We anchored and Greg got one of the only taxis we could find and went round to the marina to make sure we were OK to go in as booked the next day. He wasn’t long before returning to say the marina was closed, no more boats were allowed in.
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Cycling around Fort de France, what a difference from the carnival days. Totally deserted.
I actually got a shot of the cathedral with no people in it, just pigeons. |
We wondered what to do. Greg’s operation was still on apparently, his mum was still in hospital and he really wanted to get back to see her, our flight to Paris was still going, but then we got the cancellation of our flights from Paris to London. Everything was falling apart. We couldn’t leave the boat on anchor for months with hurricane season looming; so, in the end we decided to stay put and hope things would ease soon.
We were both very upset as we broke the news to all of our family that we weren’t able to get home. My mum is 89 and lives in her own home in Yorkshire. We had also been looking forward to spending some time with her. Luckily my brother Andrew and his family live close by and take good care of her. She has coped amazingly with the lockdown, despite not being able to see people, but she has got on with it and as a result her garden is blooming.
In the latter part of March, Greg’s mum was moved to 5 different wards in Wexham Park Hospital, at some point losing her mobile phone, making it increasingly difficult to track her down and talk to her on the hospital phone. In early April the hospital said it needed the bed she was in and sent Greg’s mum to a care home. Very sadly, she died a few days later on 12th April, Easter Sunday, alone and unable to have visitors since her 97th birthday on 2nd March, when Miranda had baked her a cake and visited.
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| Miranda with her grandma on her 97th birthday. She made the cake. Happy girls together for the last time. |
We think that she didn’t really understand what was going on, or why her family had apparently deserted her, or why she was constantly moving around with different, unfamiliar nurses and doctors. She had no television and we all tried to explain the pandemic to her on the phone, but she didn’t really grasp the scale and enormity of what was going on in the outside world. A very sad end to a great life. We will be holding a celebration of life event, as soon as we can get back and people are allowed to gather, but we can never get back the chance to say goodbye, like many others, this has had a profound effect on families.
So here we still are months later, bobbing on anchor in Martinique. Apparently in paradise, but in reality, not quite what we had imagined. We appreciate we are very lucky to have sunshine and great views, but when you are far from your loved ones and things go badly wrong, it creates a different perspective.
Whilst we have been here, we have moved from bay to bay, getting a feel for anchorages and snorkelling quality, for when we return next year. We have been able to cycle and exercise on land, although not in the sea. Water sports have been banned as has been the case in most places, on the basis that if you get into trouble, the emergency services could be diverted from virus related cases to aid you. We didn’t realise this included paddle boarding and snorkelling near the boat, and we enjoyed a couple of weeks of blissful ignorance before patrols by helicopters and police boats, soon made it very clear. Thankfully that phase is now over.
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| Beautiful bay at Anse Noir |
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| Helicopters surveying Anse Noir |
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| Paddleboarding in Grand Anse d'Arlet before being banned |
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| Fantastic entertainment watching pelicans diving |
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| Walking the dry stream bed in Anse Noir |
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| Monitoring by the armed police boats |
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| Greg rescuing a washed up starfish during a beach walk |
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| Deserted beaches during lockdown |
We have explored most of the bays on Martinique and it is a lovely island. We will definitely return here next year.
Things are looking up a little here now. As a department of France, the French regulations apply here, and the lockdown is being gradually eased. Shops are now open; most requesting a mask and use of antibacterial spray. All are operating one-way systems and controlled access. It’s been very civilised here. At no point have there been shortages. We have never seen people with piled up trolleys, just the usual baskets and amounts. As a result, we have not had a problem obtaining food or drink (and we have consumed a lot of French wine). There was a lean period when it was impossible to get gas and fuel, but we managed, and now everything is fully available again without any waits.
Last week we hired a car for two days and drove around the island and into the rainforest, which made an uplifting change.
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| This lovely old iron bridge is in the middle of the rainforest |
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| Lush |
Rowan and Jenny, friends of Jax and Iain arrived on their catamaran a few weeks ago, and after 14 days in quarantine here, were allowed out. As we have been isolating for weeks and are pretty sure we are virus free, we have met up several times for drinks, dinner onboard and games of Shithead which has been great for us after so long putting up with just each other. Last night was cause for a huge celebration as the restaurants opened their doors.
We had a fantastic meal and evening in the company of Rowan and Jenny at restaurant Zanzibar. It was their last night here, as they will sail to Grenada today and begin another 2 weeks quarantine before hopefully being able to fly home. Jax and Iain have made it to the US for hurricane season, so that just leaves us. Sandie and Brian are safe at home in California.
So, what of our plans now?
We are currently waiting for Trinidad to open its borders. Our yacht insurance says we are not insured if a named storm arises unless we are south of 10 degrees South or north of 23 degrees North. 10 degrees South takes us to Trindad and 23 North takes us to Bermuda or the USA. We don’t have visas for the USA.....and for fairly obvious reasons we aren’t that keen on visiting there at the moment. Bermuda’s marinas are already full, and you are not allowed to go there for more than 72 hours in transit. Some people have set sail back across the Atlantic to Europe, but that hasn’t ended happily for all. Two of Greg’s friends have lost their boat mid-Atlantic and had to be rescued. We won’t be attempting that journey alone.
Greg has been in touch with a marina in Trinidad and we will hot foot it down there to be hauled out as soon as the border opens and flights resume. Then we are likely to return to UK for Greg to sort out his hip, his mum’s affairs, and see family if we are allowed. We can always say we are on our way to Durham, if we are stopped on our way to Yorkshire!
After that, all being well we will return to Trinidad and if they are open, we will sail around the ABC islands of Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao, until November 2020 when we will return to the Caribbean windward islands and start the season again, following the main regattas in 2021.
But we know what happens to best laid plans….so we will see.
We hope you are all safe and well.
