Marquesas to Tuamotus - Day 1: Slow Start

:lat=-10.929183:lon=-141.668017:
Time: 1735UTC, COG 220T, SOG 5.3kts, Distance Remaining: 411nm

As a side note I want to apologize for the crappy quality of the photos in the previous blog (I will improve them in the future) and for the old location status "Ua Pou" to the right. Blame the lack of (decent) internet in our last anchorage. We are underway now and Mark will update our position on the map daily.

The weather looked promising when we lifted anchor in Hakamaii, Ua Pou around 8am this morning. While the villagers went to church, I hauled Mark up the mast to check the rigging and by the time the service finished, we were underway. The land effect kept our progress to a minimum for quite some time. A massive pod of dolphins sent us off towards the Tuamotus. Floating in the water, swimming back and forth, they got slightly bored with our idleness in the water, but they didn't give up. When we finally gained some speed, so did they. It was a sight to behold.

Ua Pou became smaller, while the distance to the atoll of Apataki slowly shortened. By 1pm the last island of the Marquesas was gone, swallowed up by the clouds. We were all alone in the big, wide ocean. We checked the instruments. We adjusted them. We checked the sails. We adjusted them. We ate fruit. Lots of fruit. As usual at sea, we need to consume bananas as quickly as possible. They are turning yellow as we speak! When the sun makes us drowsy, we take a nap.

A few hours into the trip, the weather did its own Pacific thing again: it changed without any reason. The wind speed dropped five knots and later on even ten (!) knots, the direction became less favorable. At one point, it shifted 60°! All of a sudden we couldn't stay on course anymore. Our speed dropped from an expected 6 knots to 5.5 (required to get there in four days), to 5 and less. By 4pm we were sailing under main sail only and barely doing 3 knots. Half a knot of that was current. Now what? And, today was supposed to be our fastest day, since the wind speed is predicted to go
down...

We hoped for more wind. We asked for more wind. We screamed for more wind. All the while wondering how the breeze could be so inconsistent and unpredictable on this ocean. There were no squalls nearby and we were far from the equator! Our only explanation were the gray clouds in the area or a weather system further away. By 6:30pm, my bedtime, our situation had improved some and we were sailing under full sails again. A boobie (brown and white seabird) landed on the solar panels and joined us for the ride.


Fast forward six hours. Irie is cruising along at more than five knots. The wind keeps fluctuating a bit, there are some squalls around and a skinny moon tries to pop out. Wherever not obscured by clouds, the stars twinkly. Our winged hitchhiker is still here, taking a nap, and so is Mark. We are comfortably sailing for now, so no complaints! :-)

On to the Northern Marquesas Group

I will (try to) keep this blog short, before we lose some – if not all – of our readers! :-)

In French Polynesia (and maybe even in all of the South Pacific, we don’t know yet), it is impossible to just make plans as to where you’d like to sail and then expect to be anchored there until you want to move on. It is not that easy anymore. The islands are mountainous and the location (= protection from wind and waves) of many anchorages is less than ideal. This means that most bays are uncomfortable most of the time and that the wind is very gusty, fluky, contradictory or accelerated because of the features of the land.

Approaching Ua Huka

Even though Mark and I picked the perfect weather window to explore the north coast of Hiva Oa, the anchorages were still very rolly and therefore uncomfortable with no place to go ashore certain times of the day. For this reason, we packed up and left a day earlier than planned; the predicted light ENE winds promising to be as good as possible to visit Ua Huka’s south coast. We prepared Irie for a night crossing, which – with Mark’s continuously painful right elbow and the bumpy sea state - entailed a bit of inventiveness, especially while taking the outboard engine off the dinghy and hauling it onboard. We picked 10pm as our time of departure, which allowed us to do any speed between 3 and 6.5 knots to get to Ua Huka during the daylight hours. A light 10 knots out of the east was forecasted, but we have learned to expect anything, so left (mentally) prepared.

SW coast of Ua Huka

It was dead calm when we left Hanaiapa in Hiva Oa and the land shadow had us motor for the first hour. After that, the wind filled in and we had a pretty perfect sail, doing 4 to 6.5 knots, all the way. The sky was bright with an almost full moon, the sea state was relatively mellow and we only had to dodge one giant squall. I did most of the work (as usual :-)) and we decided not to fish in the morning– Mark’s arm has to rest. The fish in the Pacific are too big and strong for me to handle. At 9am the following morning, we were settled in Hane Bay, Ua Huka. After a day of rest and catching up on sleep, we planned some walks along the scenic shore and to stay as long as we could endure the gusty winds and incoming swell…

Mouth of Hane Bay

Head of Hane Bay

Pacific Passage in Pictures

Here are some pictures of our Pacific crossing from Isabela, the Galapagos to the Gambier Islands in French Polynesia. The people who followed the blogs during the sailtrip might recognize some of the scenes... :-)

Leaving enjoyable Isabela in the Galapagos Islands

Bye bye Isabela and the Cerro Azul volcano

Becalmed at night, floating west at a little over 1 knot

One of the many sunrises, this one in flat seas

Some of our stocked-up vegetables; soon ready to be eaten

All bundled up after the night watch; the comfy chair was our saving grace!

Trophies after a night of sailing: flying fish and squid

Morning view of Irie's trampoline (after a rough night): a bunch of suicidal flying fish

Oh oh... The bananas all turning yellow already!

The only fish we caught: a small mahi mahi (dorado) - we did lose all our lures later

On one of the quieter and early days: Mark making spinach flat bread

Colorful sunset, behind a relatively flat horizon. We saw many sunsets on the trip, sometimes the same one multiple times, when rising and falling with the waves!

This acrobatic squid made it all the way onto the mainsail!

Rough seas, big swell - it is hard to do justice to the sea conditions in a picture

Rigged up cockpit cushions to keep the cockpit relatively dry from crashing waves

Our shower system: one sun shower filled with seawater, the other with fresh; both warmed by the sun

The best chocolate chip cookies in the world, with dark Belgian chocolate

One of the rainbows near a far away squall

On days with little wind, we fly our spinnaker - red, white and blue!

 

 One of the few beautiful days of sailing

Frontal system ahead; we're not sure what is to happen when we go through...

Surrounded by one of the squalls of the weather front - our sails are reefed and we fly

Arriving at the Gambier Islands, during the crappiest weather they have had in a while!

The perfect welcome by our friends Birgit and Christian from SV Pitufa: a basket with local goodies!

Some facts about Irie's Pacific Crossing

If you have never crossed an ocean, and 6-8 foot waves are all you've experienced while sailing (as was the case with us, prudent Caribbean sailors, always waiting for a good weather window to move), the Pacific will be an eye opener. Whatever its name indicates or whichever stories you have heard, this is real ocean sailing. This ocean is not a peaceful one (where did that name come from?) and should not be underestimated. Cross swells of over 12 feet, winds of 30 knots, confused seas, bumpy wind chop and squalls are very common. We were on all points of sail at some time or another and could not stay on course regularly either, when the wind came from dead behind or in front of us. Some days are sunny; the nights are chilly.

Irie's passage can be broken down into 5 parts: a few days of being becalmed in flat seas and barely moving, eleven days of uncomfortable and unsettled conditions, while making good, but bumpy progress, a couple of fair "transition" days, three days of comfortable and peaceful, albeit slow sailing, and two awful days of beating into wind and waves during stormy, squally, windy and frustrating (many wind shifts, constantly varying wind speed, high and rough seas) weather when a front/low pressure system passed overhead.

Amongst cruisers, this particular trip west is called "the Milk Run" because it is supposed to be an easy, straighforward, downwind journey. For us it was as much a milk run as there was a milk man around: not. I do have to specify here that Mark and I sailed from the Galapagos to the Gambier islands, instead of the Marquesas, French Polynesia's most popular arrival destination. The route to these more northern islands is said to be less challenging than the one to the Gambiers. Reports of frequent squalls and confused seas reached us from that area as well, though, but no fronts go that far north and you don't sail on a beam reach (uncomfortable wind and waves from the side).

Irie Trip info and tidbits:

* Route: Galapagos islands - Gambier islands, French Polynesia

* Distance: 2938 miles

* Time: 21 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes (May 7 - May 28th, 2013 )

* Hours under engines: 12 (half getting into the anchorage of Rikitea)

* Hours under sail: 492

* Average speed: 5.8 knots

* Wind direction: SSE-SE-E-ENE, when front passes: all directions

* Wind speed: an average of a perfect 15 knots, but we never saw 15 knots, instead it blew a weak 10 knots or a heavy 25-35 knots!

* Squalls: 42

* Favorable current: 0 knots: a few days + 0.5, a few days - 0.5 early on

* Sail configuration: spinnaker, main (reefed at night and during heavy weather) and jib

* Sail changes: multiple times a day.

* Gallons of diesel used: 9

* Gallons of water used: 47, including 5 gallons to rinse off after showering and 2 gallons for laundry

* Other boats encountered: 2

* Objects encountered: 1 floating pole with a black flag, some garbage, and one whale shark (we think)

* Planes spotted: none

* Fish caught: 1; a smallish mahi mahi, too rough to fish most of the time

* Lures lost: 3

* Sea life "scooped up": 5 squid, 38 flying fish

* Flying fish whacking Mark on their way into the cockpit: 3

* Time zones traveled through: 3

* Latitude travel: from 1°S to 23°S

* Longitude travel: from 90° 58' to 134° 58' W

* Days of having fun: Mark: 1, Liesbet: 4

* Seasickness medicine taken (Liesbet, who used to be very prone to motion sickness): 5 days - 3 days preventive, 2 because of nausea

* Sky: blue, grey or black

* Water: deep blue

* Waves hitting the bridgedeck: Too many to count

* Books read: Mark 6, Liesbet: 1

* Movies watched: Mark 7, Liesbet: 2

* Casualties ("boat bites"): bloody toes, scratched eye, bruised legs, bumped heads, sore knees, burnt arm - nothing serrious or unusual

* Things we have learned/realized during this passage:

  - Why people take planes to cover 3000 miles

  - How long one can go without a shower (6 days)

  - That it takes a long time of not washing up before one gets smelly (> 6 days) *

  - That we really, never ever get bored; I was going to remove my "Boobie blue" nail polish from my toes, one toe every day. I arrived in the Gambiers with 8 blue toes and the trip sure took longer than 2 days...

  - That crossing the Pacific Ocean is not a leisurely "sit back, relax, and enjoy the weather and the ride" kind of sail

  - That this was the longest amusement park ride of our lives (not in a fun way)

  - That sailing is not easy

  - That the wind is never consistent

  - That living in a "stable" house with conveniences must be so nice

  - That it was much colder than expected, especially at night. Winter clothes and comforter needed!

  - That a passage to the Marquesas would have been easier and more comfortable (a confirmation of what we knew)

  - That the days are short and the nights long (Southern Hemisphere winter)

  - That there is little time or energy to do the things you like or plan to do, because of exhaustion or sea state

  - That the Pacific doesn't harbor as much wildlife (whales, dolphins, ...) as we thought

  - That one cannot be in a hurry

* in non-sweaty, Southern Hemisphere conditions

Going “Pacific” or Staying “Caribbean”?

When Mark and I were in Belgium and the US this past summer, many people asked about our (sailing) plans. With my big mouth, I was proclaiming everywhere that we might go to the Pacific. It just seemed like the next, logical step in our cruising lives. Mark brought the subject up as well, but with a bit more caution. He had obviously not made up his mind yet and merely started thinking about the idea. To me, all safe and sound in comfortable, stable houses and fair weather – thousands of miles removed from our floating home in Panama – crossing the Pacific Ocean and exploring its tropical and exotic islands sounded like the perfect thing to do next spring.

Now we are back on Irie, relatively close to the entrance of the Panama Canal, and the Pacific topic is “hot on the stove”. The discussion has started in earnest and pros and cons are weighed. Being on the bouncy boat again, with limited supplies, and thunder and lightning storms almost every night (meaning a lack of sleep), the concept of long ocean voyages sounds a bit less exciting and the thought of spending our boating life in flat anchorages with provisioning opportunities appeals, well, a bit more. Reality has set in and we are now faced with the apprehension of leaving everything behind that we know and plunging into a whole new world.

In the past, we both had a relatively easy time making decisions about our next destination and we pretty much were compatible. I’m sure we will at some point figure out what’s next, but this time it is a bigger deal. Once we transit the Canal and make our way west, there is no turning back. We are gaining information about Polynesia – reading cruising guides and sailor’s reports – every day, and during cocktail time, it is our favorite topic. Although we have to take a break from it all every few days, because we are not making much headway in regards to an actual decision. Luckily, we still have a few months to make up our minds.

Pacific Cons – What holds us back?

-          Irie is a very light and small boat to battle big oceans.
-          We have weight limits - we can’t stock up our boat as well as monohulls, meaning expensive shopping along the way.
-          We have small tanks for water and fuel and will have to somehow store extra in jerry cans, which is where the weight limit comes into play again.
-          The first segment to the Galapagos Islands is about 10 days, the second one to the Marquesas, about 30 days (here we are a third of the way to, say, Australia), then there are day hops and week hops further west. Irie’s longest trip so far has been two days and two nights – close to civilization!
-          I will get (hopefully temporarily) seasick, especially in the typical following seas.
-          Our instruments and – most importantly – our autopilot are 15 years old and bound to break at some point (spares for these cost thousands of dollars and are not usually carried).
-          All the books and stories we read about the islands in the Pacific mention how hard it is to anchor in most places (deep anchorages, bad holding, dangerous cuts into atolls, uncomfortable swell rolling into the bay, coral heads strewn over the bottom, anchor chain wrapped around coral – diving equipment needed to rescue the anchor) and how inefficient and time consuming the checking in and out procedures are. (Imagine you arrive after weeks at sea, all shaken up and tired. It takes hours to set the anchor(s) satisfactory, then it takes half the day to check in and next, you have to leave that same anchorage to another one 100 miles way, because the swell is tossing you out of bed!).
-          Getting supplies and provisions is difficult and expensive.
-          Fresh water and fresh produce are hard to find; a water maker is out of our budget and interest.
-          We are leaving some of our favorite cruising friends behind.
-          We will be in an area far away from our home countries, family and friends.
-          There is no turning back, but it is possible to head back to the West Coast of the US through the higher, and less settled, latitudes.
-          The worry that “something bad” happens on one of the long passages – you are literally in the middle of nowhere.
-          We could add years to our cruising lives, because there is a whole new world to discover. (This could be a positive thing, too.)
-          The water temperature is colder and the tides in Panama City are “massive”.
-          We need extra (expensive) equipment on Irie for a trip of these dimensions.
-          Getting the boat ready, transiting the Canal, the need of more diesel and stopping at the Galapagos Islands will set us at least an extra $5000 back than staying in the Caribbean.
-          It will take some time and effort to prepare our boat and ourselves.

Pacific Pros – Why do we want to go?

-          It’s time for something new, after spending five years on this side of the Canal.
-          We (me) are ready – mentally and physically - for a different adventure, new sights, new cultures and new experiences.
-          Irie is in pretty good shape.
-          We have a spinnaker for downwind sailing. (Thank you, Axel!)
-          We said “goodbye” to friends and family for a while.
-          We don’t have responsibilities that prevent us from going.
-          We will meet up with some of our other favorite cruising friends.
-          We (me) are looking forward to experiencing a long time in peace and quiet on the big seas.
-          I am thrilled about all the wildlife we will get to see and the great snorkeling that awaits us.
-          The Pacific – hence its name – is a peaceful ocean and enjoyed by many sailors a year.
-          The weather is generally speaking enjoyable and benign.
-          We will have devices to alarm people if anything serious goes wrong.
-          Polynesia (and Melanesia and Micronesia) is best visited by private boat, and we have one now, so we should take advantage of it!
-          Australia and New Caledonia are good markets to sell a boat, especially a catamaran.
-          If we don’t go this spring, we will most likely never go
-          Our friend Axel, who is in the Pacific right now, wrote us that the guidebooks are very conservative and outdated, and that anchoring and dealing with officials is easy and straightforward, most of the time. It is incredibly awesome there as well, we’ve heard.
-          Axel also says it is possible to find fresh water and produce – you just get it whenever you can.
-          Many cruisers (some of which we know) have done this trip before and thoroughly enjoyed it – some call the Pacific islands the highlight of their circumnavigation.
-          We have time and energy for a new, big project.
-          It all sounds like such an exciting adventure!

One of the anchorages in Panama City, on the Pacific side

The South Pacific consists of many island groups, pretty far away from each other

The Pacific Ocean is the biggest ocean in the world and stretches over thousands of miles between land masses and continents.

Full House on Irie: Griet, Wim, Sam and Eva’s Visit

Grand Anse d’Arlet became our favorite anchorage in Martinique this year. After returning from our brief visit to St. Lucia to meet up with friends, we “waited” here until my cousin Griet and her family showed up a few days later. We worked for the business and made the necessary preparations that are required for a guest family of four. Since we are not a big fan of Fort-de-France (busy and rolly), we delayed our short sail around the corner until the last moment, which was the morning of June 30^th. For some reason, that was also the day a lot of bad weather passed through and we were obliged to take down all the sails and motor dead into heavy wind and built up waves, while we endured squall after squall coming down the bay, barely making progress towards Martinique’s capital.

When the evening approached, safely at anchor, it was still raining big time and we sure hoped for a break, once our visitors would reach the area near the dinghy dock. After darkness had totally set in for an hour, I took the dinghy to shore with a handful of garbage bags (to keep the bags dry) and noticed “the sign” - a flashing flash light - indicating Belgian presence ashore. Our guests had arrived and were ready for a stay on Irie. It was dry for 15 minutes; thank you Weather God. We managed to haul all the luggage onboard and assigned the starboard cabins. Griet and Wim moved into the forward cabin and their kids Sam and Eva into the aft one. Previously, I succeeded in moving all the stuff normally taking up these spaces (computer, Wirie parts, and miscellaneous things) into other cavities in the boat.

The first few days were pretty rainy and many a meal was had inside. Or, we would move all the items onto the cockpit table, only to be welcomed by raindrops once we sat down. At night, everybody was responsible for closing and opening and closing and opening their own hatches. We became used to it and managed to still do things and get off the boat, whether it was a walk through Fort-de-France or a snorkel with turtles in Grand Anse d’Arlet. The second day was spent tacking along the southwest coast of Martinique to reach the cute town of Ste. Anne. Wim turned into a helpful crew member and confident helmsman, while the kids had a blast on the trampoline, every time a wave would crash under and over them. Griet enjoyed being on the water with a big smile, taking photographs.

When we are in Ste. Anne, we like to go for a long walk past many small bays and pretty beaches, to the southern tip of the island. The trail is mostly in the shade and the whole experience is a fun daytrip. Unfortunately, we lost half the day with trying to check out (first by bus, which was non-available on Sundays, then by dinghy), since the bar in Grand Anse d’Arlet, where we planned to do this, was closed. When we finally locked the dinghy in town and reached the trail head near Anse Caritan, all the paths had turned into a wet and muddy mess, thanks to the heavy rainfall of the previous days. We splashed and slid and hiked and skidded to the first bay, where we relaxed the rest of the afternoon, together with hordes of local families on a Sunday break. Dinner was had in a local restaurant with a typical Creole dish and ti punch.

The crossing between Martinique and St. Lucia was the big sailing adventure. Nobody was allowed on the trampoline and the ocean was respected by all. Irie made great timing, averaging 7 knots, turning this trip into a shorter, but bumpier one than the trip tacking to Ste. Anne. We reached Rodney Bay in time for lunch. The kids stayed aboard, while the adults checked in, explored the marina area and shopped for food. The following day, I dropped everybody off on shore for a visit to Pigeon Island and a walk on Reduit Beach. Mark and I caught up on our usual internet and boat stuff. We all had a very enjoyable dinner in Jambe de Bois, our favorite restaurant in St. Lucia.

The tour moved onto Marigot Bay, where the rain didn’t keep us from snorkeling along the rocks, landing on the palm fringed beach and walking along the mangroves and the lagoon. After lunch, Irie and crew moved on to Anse Cochon to snorkel some more in the rain (which didn’t keep one rum demanding boat boy away), gaze at the colorful fish and coral and spend a peaceful night. The next morning, the schedule was similar with a lunch stop in Anse Chastenet, where we swam from the mooring ball to the beautiful black beach and then on to a nice snorkel area around protruding rocks. We continued on to the Pitons for pictures of the spectacular view and another night. When the park ranger came by to collect the fees, he was accompanied by a customs officer, requesting to see our special permit to moor. We didn’t have one, since there is an extra US$10 fee on top of the park fees and since they never checked for this before. We moved around the corner and spent the night in Malgretout Beach instead.

Griet, Wim, Sam, Eva and I took the dinghy to Soufrière and walked through the local town and along very lush gardens and forests to the Botanical Gardens. We thought it opened at 9am, waited for an hour and entered at 10am, when the park appeared to open. For the next hour, we smelled colorful flowers, read explanatory signs, stuck our toes in the manmade and swimming pool-like hot springs and looked at the Diamond Falls. After more grocery shopping, lunch was had on Irie, in the cockpit this time! By now, everybody had his own job when the seats were wet or about to get wet. In the afternoon, we returned to Marigot Bay, the anchorage of choice, for another night on a mooring ball. The brisk wind, with gusts up to 26 knots made for a quick and invigorating sail!

The gang’s last day on Irie was spent in Marigot Bay, with a walk in the marina area and a drink looking out over the protected lagoon. A short sail to Rodney Bay with captain Wim finished the family’s sailing adventure. Because of its tasty and affordable food, yummy cocktails and great outdoor atmosphere, a return visit to Jambe de Bois took place. This time, we had anchored right in front of the door, so a short dinghy ride kept the passengers dry. The following morning, after a hearty breakfast with Bloody Mary’s (Griet and Wim are good sports trying everything!), we moved to the southern area of Rodney Bay and I dropped our guests off at the Rex Resort for a continuation of their holiday, in luxury this time!

Guadeloupe: A Taste of the Butterfly

The shape of Guadeloupe looks like a butterfly. After our fast crossing from Antigua, we touched the left wing in a small town, called Deshaies. I still don’t know how to pronounce it, but we spent two nights there to get some rest.

The island is divided in two halves by a river, wide enough to take Irie across. This area contains a lot of mangroves and is therefore known as a decent hurricane hole. Upon arrival in Guadeloupe, we had big plans to run around to the north side, motor the short cut to the south side and do lots of exploring inland. That was before we actually realized that it was almost August, the height of hurricane season…

Deshaies is a small fishing village that reminded us of the towns in the Dominican Republic. Nothing special was happening, a variety of food was hard to find and the little community just did its thing. There was no good beach, but the hilly surroundings were very green and we discovered that the path along the river was very enjoyable. We walked Darwin there in the morning, while the jungle around us made the air moist and the mango trees dropped their fruits in massive quantities.

We altered our plans a bit and decided to follow the west coast. We would do the other things on our way back north. Our next stop was Pigeon Island, where we picked up a free mooring ball to go snorkeling. This area of actually two island is also called the Jacques Cousteau Underwater Park, because he declared it to be one of the top dive sites in the world. It was pretty rolly this far away from shore, so we didn’t waste much time and jumped in the water before I could get sea sick. Once in the company of coral and tropical fish, we executed our grand plan of circling the biggest island. Talking about a work out! It took us a little while, but at least we now know where the best snorkeling is to be found around these rocks.

Since the anchorage on the mainland, across from Pigeon Island, is more comfortable, we opted to spend the night there, near Malendure Beach. Now this place is very popular with locals and white people alike and we have no idea why… The sand is black and littered, a mucky river empties out on it, the seawater is grey and it is very busy. In the morning, we wanted to go for a sign posted hike, but ended up in a housing development and gave up.

It was Sunday and we needed some provisions. Our idea was to anchor off the marina in Basse-Terre, Guadeloupe’s capital, before noon to catch the store before closing. The sail down there was a bit tough, since the wind died down over and over again, just like on our trip to Pigeon Island. Only then, the wind shifted so much that we were actually sailing back north at one point! Now, at least we kept moving towards our destination, albeit very slowly.

We dropped anchor in a bumpy harbor just after 12 pm and realized it wouldn’t be comfortable enough to spend the night. Down went the dinghy and all of us fought the beating heat to make it to shore. I had a half hour left to “stock up”. I only needed five minutes, since the store didn’t have anything interesting or healthy. A stop by the bakery revealed that they were out of bread. So, we got back to Irie, hauled the dinghy and the anchor back up and left. At least Darwin had a little break and swim on shore.

The only other place we could go before dark was the Saintes, a group of islands south of Guadeloupe and an area well raved about. We looked forward to a short visit here. It was only 10 miles away and we could see them luring us over, but… the wind came exactly on the nose and under ten knots, while a few squalls passed nearby. Since we now are hardy sailors, we needed to prove a point and sailed all the way, avoiding a water spout in the distance. It “only” took us four hours and we did more than twice the distance to get to Bourg de Saintes, the main town on the islands.

Terre-de-Haut is the most populated, popular and interesting island of the bunch. The three of us spent a few days there and enjoyed the cute, clean, colorful town with its welcoming and friendly village atmosphere. We also walked to a couple of other bays and lost gallons of sweat. The Caribbean in the summer: it is hot and humid!

Our last evening in the Saintes was spent in a harbor on Terre-de-Bas. A walk on shore revealed a very neat, organized and friendly community with well-kept parks, lots of hiking opportunities and child friendly areas. When we get back… But now, the weather was quite favorable to make the crossing to Dominica.