April 2008 St.Vincent

Log 18 April 2008, St. Vincent

Sunrise at the Pitons found Gary swimming to shore and untying our stern line which was tied to a tree pointing us into the swell. We slipped our mooring ball just before 6am and slipped away along with Gladys from the Pitons. Hoisting a double reefed main we motored south to get away from the steep shadow of the Pitons and about half an hour later rolled out the jib to the reefing point and turned the engine off reaching on a beam across to St. Vincent. Arriving about five hours later we came up to the northern end rolling the jib progressively down to a hanky as the winds picked up by the volcano and eventually just sailing along on the main till just north of Chateaublair where we were completely becalmed as the island blocked the last of the wind. Halcyone Days were about three miles further off shore having left around the same time. Dan as usual had a full canvas thing going and had closed the gap with us despite leaving a few minutes after us from a mile back at Soufriere and going out offshore a few miles. He called us on the radio and got our position and then said since it was still early and conditions were good he was pushing on to Bequia and skipping the anchorage at Wallilabou and the hike.

At Wallilabou we were greeted by Ron and after entering the short bay we turned the bow out to sea and dropped the anchor in 45 feet of water while he rowed a line to shore tying us off to a tree. Wallilabou is famous for being the film location of Pirates of the Caribbean. It was a well known but little used anchorage before this mainly because of the real pirates of the Caribbean the ubiquitous boat boys who, from here on down island are a real problem constantly pestering . Here we just deal with the twins Ronnie and Ron (yes that’s what their mother named them) and once that is made clear nobody bothers us. On the trip north I had arranged for Ronnie to guide us up the leeward side of the volcano.
St. Vincent is not a touristy island and other than a couple of anchorages used for breaking up the trip north to St. Lucia is avoided by most cruisers. There is a history of crime here against boaters but in the last couple of years things seem to have been slowly changing with the odd cruise ship putting in at Kingstown, but this is not a tourist trip and the area being the smoke basket for the Eastern Caribbean it is privately guarded by the Rasta’s. A local guide is necessary as there have been robberies and rapes reported. The American DEA has gone in previous years and burned the crop but it is an intensive job because of the remoteness and topography of the area and when you see the area it kind of makes you wonder if crop eradication is worthwhile at all. We decided this wasn’t a trip for the ladies and now with a couple of guys dropping out we were down to Gary, Geoff and I. Interesting enough all three of us were the same age and all within a few months with myself being the oldest. Geoff and I also share other similarities both being born in England and being immigrants to Canada and the USA respectively as well as having mothers who were adopted. We firmed up the price and arrangements with Ron over a great dinner at the Golden Spoon and agreed to meet at 7 am for the ride up past Chateaublair to the trail. The bay at Chateaublair has been plagued by armed boarding’s and robberies the last couple of years so the whole area is a security concern. The next morning we drove up island and through Chateaublair arriving at the beach where the road ends. Here you find a long beach and about a quarter mile of rock piles of various sizes which the islanders break down into various sized aggregate for their concrete. Incredibly they do it by hand with small ball peen hammers or carpenters hammers basically whatever they have or will as they say “mash it down Mon”. A huge amount of labour for so little return but maybe a window into the human determination that built the first civilized structures like the pyramids with no modern equipment. We hiked up the beach which was occupied every so often by blue tarp tents of islanders mostly Rasta’s who had been fishing. Off the shore cruising was a small Coast Guard boat with a little cuddy cabin. I wondered if this was a Friday night Saturday morning thing as it was the weekend but Ronnie said they just come up to establish a pesence. We crossed one stream running down from the high hills and finally came to a dry river wash where we turned and followed the bed up into the woods. A little further up we came to a cut in the rock about four feet wide and a hundred feet long and running up in overhangs to a height of ten or twelve feet, this was where the water had cut through the hill during the torrents caused by rainy season .Twice on this section we ran into islanders carrying open knifes which kind of spooked me as I am used to machetes and swords but this was a little more threatening as I could not see an end use for them other than suckering plants or some form of violence. The climb started in short steep increments and I was handling the pace ok because it was still cool and shaded in this part of the bush. We did the first few hundred feet in a zig zag fashion and soon we were coming across small plantations with scattered bush bungalows. We were following what seemed to be a spine of rock perhaps an old lava flow that was very narrow at points on its top and usually looked across a deep valley to each side then rising to a similar spine on the other side. It was a few hundred feet up when we spotted the first of what looked like Christmas tree fields of Ganga. Everywhere! In some places under the blue tarps you could see it cut and hung to dry just like tobacco country. Ron would stop as we climbed and a couple of times went ahead and talked to someone or would give a type of whistle combined yell which seemed to warn people we were passing through. He would also stop and show us all the local plants and explain what the use was. Well after a couple of hours the temperature was climbing just like us and at various times in the bush the air was dead compounding the heat. Every once and a while we would come to a break overlooking the valleys and the wind would come whooshing through cooling you down with an exquisite draught. By this time I was starting to lag the others, cursing every smoke that had ever passed my lips but we were coming to a different type of ground cover with fewer trees allowing more wind and then into a tall grass like a savannah which finally led to a scrub barely covering a scrabble lava rock. Here the breeze made the climb much cooler and manageable. At one junction we had a bit of a hollow leading to a three step rise, Ron told us to hold onto our hats and brace ourselves as we climbed through. I couldn’t figure out what on earth he was going on about till I climbed through and got blasted by the wind. From this point we climbed straight up a very narrow path of stone scrabble to the rim. Total time for the climb was just under four hours. We were well up at around 3500 feet. The volcano rises at the north end to 4000 feet. At the top we got a little bit of a surprise as the topping on the inner cone was smoking from one side. On my last visit several years ago from the other side I had not seen any activity but now there was a steady but small plume of

smoke emanating from the southern side of the cap. The last explosion here was totally unexpected in 1979 and with a body count of two thousand it was a little disarming to see the thing puffing away. The wind was strong and steady running from a constant twenty but gusting steadily up to thirty knots or more, so that you had to brace yourself when standing. We were gifted with a clear day with no upper shroud of fog and we could see the Pitons to the north and the island’s west coast stretching to the south. We spent about an hour up there and then started the descent. Going down should have been easier but it wasn’t with a lot of stress being placed on your knees and upper front thighs. About a third of the way down Geoff was walking in front of me and once when turning told me we had company. Not wanting to appear startled I told him to warn Gary and Ron who were a ways in front. At this point Ron stratgically turned off the trail as to show us some plants and give a little talk, but I could see his eyes were lit up with apprehension. Sensing someone behind me I stepped off the trail a couple of steps and turned around. Coming up behind me was a Rasta, rubber boots up to his knees and sporting a head full of long dreads.Striding down the path he was about my height weighing in around 220 lbs but cut like a welterweight boxer, not an ounce of fat. As if he needed anymore presence he was carrying a long rusty machete in his right hand and balancing on his left shoulder was a blue tarp full of cut weed. Without missing a beat or even venturing a sideways glance at me he said “Respect Mon” thanking me for stepping off and letting him pass. The only answer I could warble out was “Absolutely Man” As I turned to face the rest of the group I could see they all found some comic relief in this and this became the groups new by line for the rest of the trip and every once in awhile somewhere down island I would run into a friend who would greet me with the Absolutely line and a wink. Strange how some stories spread. The rest of the trip down was uneventful and back on the beach our ride was there waiting to pick us up. We stopped at a beach stand, downed a couple of cold beers to wash the dirt away and headed back to Wallilabou. On the way Ron showed us a strange camp with greenhouse like structures and when I asked what it was he told us it had been some crazy Scandinavian Jimmy Jones type commune years ago. In the end the police had to roust them out and had found a pile of arms and had come to the conclusion that they had been planning an island takeover at some point. I later tried to research this story but couldn’t confirm it but here in the islands nothing surprises me anymore. We arrived back at the boat and found Kathleen, Nell and Deb all three sheets to the wind since it was Nellie and Debs birthday and they didn’t have the men around cramping their style. A crew totally out of control,
To be continued....