23 May 2011 Malgretout, St Lucia
We landed on the beach at half past six and met our guide, Edgar, who didn’t look too pleased to be up this early – he told me later that he’d been having a little “smoke” and watching a movie until midnight.
Edgar led us up the road towards the Gros Piton for about ½ mile before stepping over a chain and across a piece of land with cars parked on it. Ten seconds later, the owner of the land appeared and started to shout at Edgar in Patois. They had a stand-off argument for about two minutes before there was a lot of shrugging and we carried on. It turned out that Jaih owns the land leading up to the path and normally the guides have to pay $20EC per person to get access. However, Jaih is Benny’s brother, so Edgar told him to sort it out with Benny. The problem is that Benny never pays Jaih …
The route up to the summit is brutal. It is a path of sorts, but it is more like a scramble (45 – 70 degree slope.) Glenys was really struggling with the heat and the steepness of it all. After an hour, I was avoiding eye contact with her because she looked like she was going to give up. Anyway, we managed to have frequent rest stops and she made it to the col which is about ¾ of the way up. The last bit is even steeper, with small sections of real scrambling on rock, but they’ve put ropes in the difficult places.
We made it to the top by quarter past nine and what a fantastic view it is. We had a quick bite to eat, took the summit shots and headed back down. The path is treacherous with lots of loose stones and dirt. About half way down, I slipped and crashed down onto a sharp rock, badly bruising my right thigh. That made it even more difficult as it hurt when I bent my right leg, which you do a lot when descending. We arrived back at the Restaurant at half past eleven. I was tired, but Glenys looked exhausted. She dumped her shoes and rucksack and staggered down to wade into the sea to cool down. We sat and chatted to Benny and Edgar for half an hour while having a cold coke and retired to our boat to collapse.
It was a very hot, sunny day with hardly a breath of wind and we tried to sleep in the cockpit, but it was hot even in the shade of our bimini. We tried jumping in the sea, but the current had brought lots of seaweed and jellyfish into the bay. The jellyfish seem to live under the seaweed – perhaps there are small fish lurking in the protection of the seaweed. I gave up swimming after being in the water for one minute before receiving a sting on my top lip.
We suffered until the early evening when the sun started to disappear and a light breeze struck up. I tried fishing on the seabed beneath the boat with two hooks baited with salted needle fish, but had no success. Frozen Flying Fish tortillas for dinner – I’m a failure as a fisherman.
24 May 2011 Malgretout to Anse Cochon, St Lucia
We dragged ourselves out of bed at seven o’clock, had breakfast and decided to move on somewhere. Before we left, I tried to catch some Rainbow Runners that were lurking around our boat. I tried an artificial worm lure which they swam straight at, but then veered off when they got close. An artificial, swimming fish lure had the same effect – they obviously have good eyesight, so I’m going to have to be more cunning.
We picked up a mooring at the Bat Caves again and had a snorkel, before going around to Anse Chastanet for lunch. The snorkelling there is very good. We then motored up to Anse Cochon and picked up a mooring. It was mayhem with three party catamarans, a dive boat and a couple of snorkelling boats in the bay. There were pirogues and power boats zipping past taking tourists back to their hotels and a cruise ship. However, by four o’clock they had all gone and peace returned to the lovely bay.
After motoring for three hours in the past three days, there is only a tiny bit of water in the engine sump – about an egg cup full. I suspect that this tiny bit is coming from the stern gland, which is not a problem. So where is the mystery water coming from?
We ran out of beer this evening – we need to go shopping now.
25 May 2011 Anse Cochon to Rodney Bay, St Lucia
Today was a day controlled by external influences. By half past nine, the boat boys were getting ready for the influx of party boats, then a dive boat arrived and picked up a small mooring 20 feet in front of us - we decided that it was time to go.
We motored around to Anse La Raye, to buy some food and beer. The Doyle Pilot Guide describes as a “picturesque fishing village” - it’s actually a very run down little town, with lots of stalls next to the bay selling t-shirts and tourist rubbish. There appears to be a constant stream of tour buses depositing the tourists on the street for a short wander around before whisking them off somewhere else. We were begged for money as soon as we stepped off the dock.
Twenty minutes later, we had seen enough, found the local “super market” – a very small shop with hardly anything, and discovered that there wasn’t any fish for sale apart from some small mackerel-type fish that looked very bony. Disappointed, we returned to the boat with a single packet of breakfast cereal and pulled up the anchor.
We decided to go back to Rodney Bay. On the way, we poked our nose into Marigot Bay and had a quick look. It hasn’t changed much, apart from the inner harbour which now is covered with moorings which apparently cost £30US per night. We motored out and ran away.
We picked up some wind outside Marigot, so we started to sail. For some reason I decided to look at the engine sump and to my great surprise, there was now five pints of water sloshing about. I’d checked it before we left Anse Cochon and there was only an egg cup full - we’d motored for less than two hours. The only thing that I can think of is that we’ve heeled over as we’ve been sailing – perhaps the water is coming from the sump under the generator when we heel over? I used a sponge to get the water out of the sump and we didn’t take on any more water all the way to Rodney Bay.
Just as I finished messing about in the engine, Glenys shouted that we’d got a fish. I scurried up on deck, gave a couple of big tugs on the rod to set the hook and asked Glenys to slow the boat down by heaving-to. I reeled the small barracuda in, gutted it and put it in the fridge ready for dinner. My new rod is no longer a virgin.
Sailing into Rodney Bay was like coming home – a huge anchorage with plenty of space and, best of all, a nice, cooling breeze. We went into the marina to buy some food and beer.