Here is another excerpt from my journal I kept on our first long adventure at sea…

Guadalupe

11-12-1985 

My brother Paul arrived in Antigua to vacation with us November 3rd and we took off to sail south to Green Island and snorkeled off the beautiful reefs. Then headed down to the island of Guadalupe to Deshaiyes, where we spent the night and checked in with customs. We sailed to Pigeon Rock and snorkeled, then down to the marina at Basse Terre. This is the kind of adventure we are trying for- seeing new places, snorkeling, and sailing. We took a crazy taxi ride to Pointe-a-Pitre. The driver was young and wore red and black driving gloves. He sped through the highway weaving around all the other cars as if he was Mario Andretti. Paul was in the passenger front seat white knuckling his grip on the door handle. I closed my eyes and hung on to Steve and Vernon in the back seat. Was so relieved to get out! He asked us if we wanted him to wait to take us back to the boat when we were done and we all said NO in unison. In Pointe-a-Pitre we walked thru the busy shopping district. Went to the boatyard and got some things for the boat, only to run out of francs just as the banks closed for a three day weekend. I made a few purchases with travelers checks to get some supplies and ice. Guadalupe is lush and green and very metropolitan like Hawaii. But not being able to speak French has been hard. The people are a mixture of very nice or snobs. They get very insulted that I don’t speak French. But when I try and my pronunciation isn’t right they laugh right at you and joke about it with other people around them. Or they give you a blank stare and make no attempt to understand my hand motions. I went into the marina office to ask where a laundromat would be. I attempted the sentence in French. “Ou est un lieu de chien sil vous plait?”.The lady looked at me standing there with laundry bag and soap balanced on one arm and Steve wearing his harness leash pulling enthusiastically on the other. She left the room and after several minutes came back with another lady and said “repetition”. “Ou est un lieu de chien sil vous plait?“ I inquired again. The two of them broke out laughing. I opened a map and repeated. They laughed and one left the room. Another man came from the back room and the scene was repeated. The first one then turned and said in perfect English- “You are asking where the dog park is. And your child is leashed”. Got it.  Now do you think you can tell me where the laundry is?

“The leash”. Yes. Thank goodness for the leash. I am able to carry laundry or groceries and still walk with Steve staying safe. Not running into traffic or out of my sight. Oh but I get hassled by the island women for ‘tying my child like an animal’. But no one offers to carry my load of clothes or bags so I can carry Steve. They just call out in their sing song voices. Then there are the exceptional ones who help me. One such older French man didn’t just point out the laundry but carried my bag and spoke French with me the whole way. Those are the ones I want to remember.

On the 10th we had a beautiful sail to Anse du Borg. The anchorage is nice but there was a mini-transit sail boat race from Point-a-Pitre and the anchorage looks like Catalina on the 4th of July. AND the prop came off when we were backing down on the anchor. It was put on in the yard at Antigua and it looks like they used the wrong nut to hold it in place. It worked its way back and finally backed right off the shaft. Vernon recovered it diving beneath the boat. But we aren’t able to maneuver with the engine until it is back on. So our sailing skills will now come into play. We went ashore that evening for a fantastic meal at a little out of the way restaurant. Nearby there was a Manchineel tree. The locals say not to stand under it when it rains. A toxic substance comes off the tree leaves and will burn your skin. Take note since when I am on island I tend to go to cover under trees when the squalls pop up. And the little apple like fruit is very toxic. Keep an eye on Steve.

The next day we sailed off anchor and around the point to Baie du Marigot. The sea was rough with big swells and poor Steve was frustrated and crying the whole way there. But the bay is calm and the boatyard owner helped pull us to the dock. The men at the boat yard tried to pull the boat out but just gouged the gelcoat several times and almost cracked the hull. Aborted process. The weather is stormy. Paul and Steve and I got drenched walking to town to provision. We need to decide what to do. Staying at the dock here will not help us get the prop back on. And it looks like we need a new prop piece to make it happen. Right now it is stormy with 35 mph gusts and the rain is leaking thru the windows that we had fixed in Antigua (of course). And poor Steve, it is hard to get enough of his energy out when we are confined below due to weather. When he gets frustrated he will let out a blood curdling scream that Paul is definitely frustrated by. I believe he is worried we won’t make his flight home from Martinique and will be stuck in our misadventure.

I am beginning to think there is a voodoo doll of the boat that someone is breaking piece by expensive piece.