Bequia was another of the islands to which we failed to do justice last year. When we passed it en route to Grenada with Chris and Tanvi aboard urgently bound for their return flight from Grenada, there had been some sort of festival in progress in Bequia. Approaching the island, we had been warned by other yachts we had encountered, that Admiralty Bay was full to bursting with yachts. We had therefore decided to give it a miss – choosing instead the smaller bay on the other side of the island for only a desultory lunch stop.
It was time to remedy our negligence. One bright, blowy January morning we sailed out of Charlestown Bay, Canouan and headed north-east straight into the brisk trade winds for an exhilarating but frustrating reefed sail to Bequia. After about 20 miles we could clearly see the vast Admiralty Bay on our starboard side, littered with a forest of masts. Getting into it under sail meant several tacks backwards and forwards into the increasing wind until at last defiant skipper allowed the engine to go on and the sails to be taken down so that our last mile or so could be undertaken in a straight line! We were met by a smiling chap in a wooden launch who introduced himself as Dennis. He asked us if we would like to take one of his mooring buoys and we agreed. We followed his lead weaving through the other moored and anchored boats until we found ourselves attached to a Dennis buoy very close to the town of Port Elizabeth. Now, we needed to be as close as possible to the town docks because just before leaving Canouan we had had a little mishap with our dinghy. Seeking more shelter we had moved from one anchorage to another within Charlestown Bay. As it was not far at all, we had towed the dinghy with outboard attached. We often tow the dinghy, but not usually with the outboard, oars, bailer etc in situ, but as we were going such a short distance in fairly sheltered waters we did not consider it at all risky. Whilst we were in transit, the wind funnelled through gaps in the surrounding mountains in the bay and as it did so it turned the dinghy over, dowsing the outboard. We did not notice immediately so by the time we had, the oars had also gone A.W.O.L. Once we were re-anchored in a more sheltered area of the bay Skipper tenderly dried all parts of the outboard and it seemed none the worse for its submerging…but still we had our doubts about its reliability. Consequently, we were very thankful to dear Dennis for finding us a mooring right at the front of the packed bay, very close to one of the dinghy docks. Of course if ones outboard engine fails the reserve method of propulsion is by rowing….but we had lost the oars! Thus it was with some trepidation that we took to the dinghy to go ashore once we had settled ourselves on Dennis’ buoy (and Colin had dived down to check its integrity). Thankfully though, trusty outboard, despite being half drowned got us ashore and we set out tout suite to find some replacement oars.
So here we were in bustling Port Elizabeth. Admiralty Bay is enormous and is edged by beach, rocky cliffs and plush resorts which all give way in the deep cul-de-sac to a very diverse selection of waterfront restaurants, shops and colourful shaded stalls. Much of the life of Port Elizabeth is given over to the provision of the yachties. This has not always been the case. It did not take us long to notice that alongside every reference to Bequia was a little picture of a whale. On further investigation at the local museum we found out that Bequia’s relationship with whales is not altogether a friendly one despite the cute caricatures: Bequians are proud to explain that they still have an International Whaling Commission license to practice the hunting and killing of up to four humpback whales annually from February to April. It is then that the whales leave their northern feeding grounds to find a mate further south – passing close to the island’s shores. From 1st February there is a constant lookout in the highlands ready to give the shout if a whale is seen. Apparently the traditional methods are still used to pursue the whales – small, frail-looking, open wooden skiffs –hand made on the island since time immemorial – are launched in an attempt to harpoon the massive whale and bring it to a nearby Cay to be butchered. The livelihood of many on the island has always depended on the catching of the whales for food and from all the by-products of the catch. It is no surprise then that the island was originally peopled by those who had experience of boat-building, large scale fishing and in particular whaling. Today’s Bequians are a diverse bunch whose ancestors hailed from Africa (due of course to slavery associated with the cultivation of coffee, indigo and arrowroot), Scotland, North America and an influx of Barbadians in the 1860’s. With the growth in the tourist industry, especially associated with sailing and diving there have been added many Europeans into the mix. Thus, walking round Port Elizabeth that first day when we arrived we were struck by the many dialects spoken and many different shades of skin colour all intermingled and keen to show off their lovely island and sell their wares. Skilled woodworking was obvious too in the sort of roadside tourist mall with various wares on sale: miniature boats carved in exquisite detail and other wooden souvenirs were in abundance.
Whaling in Bequia plaque.
view from Bequia
I suppose with so many yachts in Admiralty Bay it was no surprise that there were other Ocean Cruising Club members there too. One morning on the radio net we heard that there were two other couples on their boats in the bay. We had already lingered there longer than intended – no hardship in such a lovely spot – for a rendez-vous with some of our friends from our Guyana rally days, John and Deb on Orion 1……infamous for John’s homemade ginger beer which are transformed by way of copious amounts of rum into toxic ‘dark and stormies’. Many a jolly evening had ensued and finding other O.C.C. members in the bay was a fine excuse for a big boozy lunch for eight! There was no shortage of bayside restaurants, cafes and bars to choose from. It is always pleasurable and reassuring to chat to other couples doing the same live-aboard thing – exchanging tips and notes about places, supplies, maintenance and war stories too of course.
One Thursday morning when Colin was controlling the O.C.C. radio net a voice he recognised from way-back-when in his Military career emerged from the ether. As a consequence a plan was hatched to meet up with them. This involved us going 30 miles back south to Union Island and them coming about the same distance north to meet and what a grand reunion it was…but it had to be brief as we needed to continue back on our northerly track in order to get to St. Lucia in a timely fashion for the arrival of Chris and Tanvi on 20th February.
On our northerly trajectory through the Grenadines (Saint Vincent and the Grenadines or SVG)
The 27 foot whaling skiff, Bequia.
there was one other island we wanted to visit – another casualty of our rushed tour last year – Mustique. To every British ear the mention of Mustique conjures up pictures of celebrity and royal holidays and trysts. It was particularly cast in this light by the late Princess Margaret who had her own villa retreat there which she frequented as often as possible. ‘Goings-on’…in tabloid speak…happened in Mustique but frustratingly for the press, Mustique was and is a privately owned island and therefore often impenetrable to public and media scrutiny. The entrepreneur Colin Tennant bought the tiny 3-mile long island in the 1960’s and the private solitude it offered attracted the rich and famous to its shores soon earning it the nickname ‘Billionaire’s Island’. Today the Mustique Company, representing all of the proprietors, runs the island’s administration. For us yachties the only place to tie up is on one of the Company’s mooring buoys in Britannia Bay. As you may expect, in this exclusive spot, these do not come cheaply but there is a clever pricing policy of $200 (Eastern Caribbean dollars, so about £50) for a maximum of 3 nights. This is very expensive for one night but fairly reasonable for three. Thus many of the charter boats who are rushing to see as many islands as possible in a small time frame would only be likely to be able to stay for one night. Now it would be unfair and rather hypocritical of us to decry charter boats and crews which are in abundance in the Grenadines, indeed before we had our own boat we chartered in the Caribbean and the Mediterranean, but they do have a reputation for careless sailing (it not being their boat) and exuberant behaviour. Mustique’s mooring policy then gave us some relief from the myriad of charterers and made us too part of the exclusive, escapist set. We arrived in Mustique straight from Union Island (about 25 miles) enjoying a slap-up breakfast courtesy of our long-lost friends on Laros before we set out. Consequently the sun was beginning to set as we looked for a buoy in Britannia Bay. Our way seemed blocked by a massive superyacht which we had no choice but to pass quite closely. Gilly, on the foredeck ready to pick up the mooring buoy, was distracted by the sight of this huge vessel. Imagine her excitement then when she noticed on the bow the emblem of the Prince of Wales on the burgee flag on the bow! She did a double take and clearly saw Prince Charles’ 3-feathered fleur de lys emblem as well as the undefaced blue British ensign. We were amongst Royalty! Tying up to a mooring buoy nearest the huge yacht (called La Masquerade) out came the camera and binoculars for closer inspection but disappointingly there were mere shadows of figures passing through companion ways and on the sun-screened decks. We learned that the previous week Prince William and Kate and baby George had been there. Despite this notoriety we were free to go as we pleased on the exquisite little island. On our full three day visit (oh yes, we were going to get our money’s worth from the expensive mooring buoy!) we walked along the beach to the salt lake looking for the abundant birds and wildlife along the trail and on the lake. Colin tip-toed across a reef to a little beachy outcrop offshore. Thanks to some advice from friends we discovered the delights of a local restaurant tucked out of the way up a steep path overlooking the bay. It’s humble name – ‘The View’ does nothing to prepare one for the VIEW! Simply, unspeakably, stunning. The food too was simply delicious and reasonably priced.
Resolute’s proximity to ‘Royal Yacht’!
Royal burgee on bow of La Masquerade.
La Masquerade, Mustique
On our last day we took a hot walk to the little airport to check out of the Grenadines. Out of the little town, up the hill, past the little police station (with a chair on the stoop), past the primary school and alongside the runway until we reached the bamboo and thatched buildings housing the airport administration including customs and immigration. I can hear you sigh, dear reader, as you brace yourself for yet another tale of woe about the minor bug-bear to all cruisers of the checking in and out procedure. But sigh-you-not! “Yes Sir, how can we help you?…..oh, you would like to check out….no problem please fill out the form at the desk there…” (directed to large, beautiful mahogany desk to complete single form). Cursory look at passports, stamping of forms and passports directed to Immigration office where the chap was equally polite, affable even and task completed! A pleasure not usually associated with the checking in and checking out procedure as you know.
Mustique airport.
View from ‘The View’ restaurant, Mustique.
Colin conquering the windy reef, Mustique
Glorious beach, Mustique
On our way back down the steep hill into the small town we caught a heavy shower. We had taken a short-cut through a park and as we sheltered under a tree we watched some rocks move in front of us! On closer inspection the tan-coloured rocks were in fact hundreds of tortoises all venturing out of their hideaways in the park perimeter to enjoy the rain with their heads out and their necks stretched up in adoration of the moisture falling from heaven. Quite a sight indeed, especially to a person like Gilly who has had the same pet tortoise since aged eight which now abides with her parents in quiet retirement.
Wild tortoises galore in the park, Mustique.
Even though Mustique is the sort of place one could while away a month or two quite easily (if one could afford to of course) we needed to be on our way to St Lucia which, even though the largest of the Grenadine Islands, St. Vincent, was in the way, we decided to do in one hop whilst the weather was settled. After a swim on the beach and one last sundowner in Basil’s Bar (the famous bar supposedly frequented by the rich and famous but which actually seemed decidedly ordinary as beach bars go.) we prepared Resolute for an early morning departure for the fairly long (80 mile) sail to Rodney Bay. At sunrise we slipped our buoy and promised Mustique a return visit with Gilly still straining to see beyond the portholes of ‘La Masquerade’ as we passed.
resolute-en-voyage 