Google in French

March 29th, 2008 10 AM Gustavia, St. Barths Island, French West Indies


Great. I'm using free Wi-Fi internet in some crazy expensive place and since I go through Google for my blogs and I'm in a French territory, I'm having to try and figure out Google in French. If this turns out weird, you will know why. Freaking Frenchies. Since my last blog, we have covered quite a bit of ground. It’s been over a week since the girls left in St. Thomas and as soon as I dropped them off and got back to the boat we were off. Initially, the weather report didn’t look good calling for large swells from the North and lots of wind right from the direction we needed to go. The plan was to go to St. John and hang out there until the weather eased a bit. Due to the fact that we were headed east along the south side of the islands, we were actually able to hide a little from the northerly swells and ended up making it past St. John and finally anchored in Pirates Bight, Norman Island. This place was packed, mostly with charter boats, so it was tough to find a spot but we managed. I dove to check the anchor and make sure it was stuck. It was 35’ of water so it’s no problem for me to make that depth. After I checked it I was on my way up when I caught a shadow out of the corner of my mask. When I surfaced, I scanned down around under the boat to see if I could catch a glimpse of what was swimming around. Then I saw a few more shadows down at about 20 feet. I dove down to see what they were. Half a dozen large fish, probably 30 pounds or more each, were lazily hovering around staring at me. I wasn’t sure what they were at the time but they resembled yellowtail (I later read that they are called Cero fish here and are supposed to be good to eat). This story in itself isn’t remarkable except for the fact that Norman Island is technically a British Virgin Island and therefore, any spearfishing is strictly forbidden. I was dying to get a spear into one of these bastards who obviously knew they were protected because they stared at me basically daring me to do something. I swam up and told Brian that if the anchorage wasn’t so packed we would have been having a nice fish dinner. Oh well. I took the dinghy (which we didn’t lose, even though we towed it, again) into the beach area. This island is definitely worth writing about. There is a small dinghy dock that leads up to a small white sand beach, maybe a half mile wide. All along the beach area and throughout the bay there are boats everywhere. The photos I posted that show a beach with a small building with a red roof that says Pirates is the place. That building is currently the only thing on the entire island. I was told it is privately owned and that plans to build the owner a vacation home on the east side are moving forward. There is a small place to eat, a bar and a gift shop in this little area and everything is very laid back. One of the cruising guides we had suggested hiking this island so I took a quick walk to see what the trails offered. I was treated to amazing panoramic views of both sides of the island, see the photos posted. I went back to the boat and began packing my overnight hiking pack. I had Brian drop me off and we arranged to meet at noon the next day. I had a great hike and checked out every corner of the island before finally settling into a small place called Money Bay near the East side of the island. I set up my tent under some small trees and made a small fire right on the sand. What an amazing night. The full moon was out and lit up the water of the bay. It was so bright out that I was able to read by moonlight lying in the sand next to the fire. The trades were blowing a nice breeze that night and it couldn’t have been better. This island (it is claimed) was the inspiration for the book Treasure Island because apparently over half a million dollars in silver was found there by natives of Tortola. It is a strange feeling, but one I’m enjoying, being able to see so many places that have such a stamp in history. So many of the things and places we have seen hold such rich pasts it’s hard to explain how you feel when you are standing on the same site as people did five hundred years ago. I guess in grade school when you learn about Colombus you never really expect to actually see the places the wind took him. Sorry to report, I found no money in Money Bay but I’ll take the perfect night under the moon and sleeping soundly in the sand. The next day I hiked out and met Brian for lunch as planned.


Back on the boat, weather a little more settled, we set out for St. Martin, 80 miles to the East. Of course, pounding into 25 knot tradewinds and bashing into the swells that had veered back to their more normal easterly direction made for a long ride over. Unable to sail, we had to motor directly into it for over 24 hours. It was a fairly uneventful crossing and we arrived into Simpson Bay, St. Martin the next day around 4 in the afternoon. That was last Sunday. There is a large lagoon there that is only accessible three times a day. There is a small drawbridge that gets lifted for outgoing and incoming boats during these times. We entered at 5:30 PM and anchored up in the lagoon. There are several hundred boats there. St. Martin is an island that is split. The northern part is French and the southern part, where the lagoon is, is Dutch. This area has become a haven for mega yachts during the winter and I can tell you there are an unreal number of these throughout the area. To clarify for those of you who may not have much nautical savvy, a mega yacht or super yacht is basically a gigantic private yacht, usually over 100 feet in length. There are typically a full time paid crew aboard complete with a cook, engineer, several waiter types and maids. I have talked with many of the various crew people who do different jobs and have been told that some of the larger ones cost in excess of thirty grand a day to operate, even when it sits at the dock. Yeah thirty grand, that’s five zeros behind a three, every day. That’s crew salaries, fuel, dock fees, insurance, maintenance, etc. One deckhand told me that the fuel bill for the yacht he works on varies between two hundred to four hundred thousand dollars a month, depending on how much they move around. One of the yachts in St. Thomas at the Yacht Haven Grande marina had a helicopter on top of it near the flying bridge. It’s mind blowing to think how much money these people have, actually it’s almost impossible for me to comprehend because they exist on a completely different plane of existence than anyone I have ever known. I think it was Tish telling me a story about a woman from one of these types of yachts that had flown down from Puerto Rico to Panama and she had forgotten her purse so she had the crew fly back to get it. From the anchorage it Simpson Bay Lagoon you can see the airport and there were several private planes there taking off and landing all day. Anyway, while we were in St. Martin it was time to get to fixing several things on the boat. There are good marine stores here so I spent most of the week working on bilge pumps, engines, and my favorite, all the stuff on the mast that was broken. I had Brian winch me up the mast again (but no worries, we finally got a Bosun’s chair) and I started by fixing the steaming light. Then I had him take me to the top where I had to figure out what was wrong with the electronic wind instrument and the anchor light. While I was up there I also discovered why the onboard VHF radio wasn’t working well, the antenna was shot. So the following day we rounded up all the necessary parts and I went back up and got to spend two wonderful hours flopping around the top of the mast mounting, bolting, wiring and taping new parts and antennas on but on the bright side, it all works again. One of the days there, Brian rented a ridiculously small car and we set out to drive the entire island. We headed east and then north through the French territory. The drive was scenic and along the way we found a hardware store and some other random things we needed. We ended up having lunch near Marigot, the French capital. This is a very cool area and after I hiked up to an old fort to take in the views and take a few pictures, I wandered around through the shopping area. I was very excited to find a duty free liquor store where I got some Captain Morgan Private Stock rum for 11 dollars as well as a bottle of real Absinthe, which I fear the consequences of the night in the future when I choose to open said bottle. To be honest, for all the hype, St. Martin isn’t quite what I thought it would be. Most of the people still live in various states of poverty and much of the island is dirty and rundown. It reminded me of some areas of the Dominican Republic and even small parts of Puerto Rico. The waterfront areas are truly this islands only bright spots. During our stay in the lagoon I did quite a bit of work on the boat. This was apparently noticed by my new friend Axel. He is a German guy who recently bought a sailboat in Tortola and from what I saw, he might need to order a few reference books from Amazon about boating. Nice enough guy but one night we came back from dinner to find that his boat was drifting rapidly towards the boat off his starboard side. I raced over in the dinghy and knocked on the hull to wake him just in time for him to fire up the motor and narrowly avoid an unpleasant collision. The following day I was sitting on the back of our boat working on a pump and covered in dirt and oil from being down in the engine room most of the afternoon. Axel pulled up in his dinghy, smiled wide and informed me that I was a “dirty boy” (when you say that do you your best creepy German accent). He also said that I was a good worker and asked how much I was paid for my work. I laughed and let him know that Brian is running a new brand of slave camp held aboard a boat and that I was merely doing all this work so I wouldn’t die some night from the boat sinking due to crashing into some freighter that couldn’t see us cause the lights don’t work and after the crash we can’t pump the water out because none of the bilge pumps were working. More or less self preservation is the motivator for working so hard. All kidding aside he asked if I could do some work for him on his boat and that he would pay me. So I’m hoping that we can meet up with him in Martinique and I can make a couple hundred bucks doing some work for him. I really hope it isn’t some sick German freako trick to get me into his boat and lock me in the bilge like a floating dungeon. I know my friend Ron will be jealous of this story, up til now he was the only one I knew of that had been hit on by some German dude.


We left St. Martin on Thursday and headed for St. Barts (actually it is St. Barthelemy) which is 15 miles southeast. We stopped at Isle Forchue, a small half moon shaped island and anchored there. The diving was supposed to be good there so after arriving I swam around looking at the reef and all the various fish. The only big ones I came across were a couple of Great Barracuda that swam by eyeing me. I was hoping to find a turtle but had no luck. So often in this part of the Caribbean I have seen turtles lounging on the surface of the water and as the boat approaches they stick their head and neck way up out of the water to get a deep breath of air and then they vanish beneath the waves. Forchue was a nice stopover and Friday morning we set off to St. Barts. I was assuming that it would be packed here because this weekend they are holding a sailboat race for mega sailing yachts. There are 30 entrants in the race and only two of them aren’t over 100 feet long. As I type this I’m watching out to the south from Rum Boogie and all the yachts are setting sail and beginning the race. This evening when they come into port I will get some pictures of these and post them when I can. St. Barts is a cool little town with a fun vibe. Most of the people I walk past are speaking French but luckily for me most speak English as well. Along with working on my Spanish I have also started to learn some French but I still suck at it. The plan is to stay here until possibly Monday and then sail to St. Kitts next. So until next time, watch out for crazy Germans, especially Wedemeyer.