Roseau, Dominica and St. Pierre, Martinique

Well, it is Monday evening, 14 April and we are in St Pierre, Martinique getting ready to go to Fort de France to pick up Randy and Aleitha on the 16th. We are really looking forward to the visit BUT we have to catch up with our travels so here goes.

The last blog talked about some of the things we did in Portsmouth, Dominica. Well, on Sunday we left bright and early to go to Roseau, the capital of Dominica. Before we get to that, however, a note of history about the island. Portsmouth was originally meant to be the capital, but when the British were setting up to defend against the French, they built a fortress on what was originally an island slightly separate from the mainland. It has two very high hills on it which the British could use to defend the harbour. While in the process of building the fort, they decided to build a road to join the island to the mainland of Dominica. This road eventually became overgrown and got larger until the island and the mainland was joined but it was swampland. As a result, malaria-carrying (as well as other diseases) mosquitoes became a problem and so they made Roseau the capital. Eventually, while Dominica was still a British protectorate, the British provided some kind of oil to the island that got rid of the mosquitoes and we never got bitten once!

So, we left Portsmouth and had to go about a mile off the island to catch the wind but it turned out to be a good sail. Cheryl serenaded me with the recorder we brought (a recorder is something like our tin whistle but more holes!!). It only took us about 3 ½ hours to get there and we ended up getting a mooring ball again. The man we got it from – Pancho – was quite a character and we got along really well. He arranged to get our propane filled in Canefield, which is about 3 miles away and also arranged transport to clear out of Dominica at immigration. We had decided previously that the only tour we wanted, if it was available, was an open gondola ride through the treetops of the rain forest, but it turned out the trip only happens when the cruise ship is in so we didn’t get to go.

We did visit the town, however and it was quite interesting. The population is 60,000 on an island whose total population is 75,000. There was a really good market with all kinds of fresh fruits and veggies so we stocked up. We kind of regressed though and got some KFC to take back for supper. We also did some tourist shopping and got a really neat little boat made from bamboo and coconut. The streets are quite narrow, as are the sidewalks, so it is sometimes hazardous to your health to walk in town.

Our mooring was quite close to shore and there was a small hotel there where we were serenaded the first night with music from Venezuela, which in the middle of the night sounds like music from any other place – loud, booming and frustrating. Poncho told us there were two busloads of Venezuelans staying there and their tendency is to party late and make noise. The second night of our stay there they must have gone somewhere else to make noise so we slept well.

Sunday morning we left by 7:30 because we had a 35 mile trip ahead. The conditions varied over the day. The seas for the most part were not too high, perhaps 2 meters, but a strong wind was coming from a different direction than the swells, creating waves that were not in the same direction or of the same time period so it was kind of difficult to establish the correct sails and course. To top it off, it was overcast when we left and we were either threatened by or suffering with rain most of the day. Even though Martinique is quite a big island, we were not able to get a good view until we were about 8 miles from the northern tip. We decided we would stop in St Pierre for Sunday and Monday nights and go on to Fort de France on Tuesday. St Pierre is the town that lost 30,000 inhabitants in 1902 when the Mount Pele volcano exploded. We visited the museum today and it sent shivers up my spine. The disaster was quite well represented and it made it seem very real and immediate.

Anyway, to finish the trip – we got into the harbour and dropped anchor but the water and wind were swirling and the anchor didn’t hold so we attempted to lift it and move. Amazingly (or maybe not so) the same thing happened this time as happened in our last French port (Les Saintes) – the windlass control didn’t work. Of course to make the situation even more similar, it was also raining the proverbial chats et chiens. To make a long story short, I had to hand haul the anchor twice more before we got it to hold. Then while I was working on the windlass after we were anchored, it came on by itself and kept winding the anchor up even after it was fully aboard, which is not good for an electric motor. Even removing the fuse didn’t stop it but eventually it just quit. Of course the only reason I could think of at the time was that the motor had burned out (which meant replacing the whole kit and caboodle). Needless to say, we went to bed quite discouraged.

It is now the evening of the day after and all’s well that ends well – well, somewhat well. It turned out the motor was not burned out and I was able to bypass the faulty control box, a move I hope tomorrow morning will prove to be the right one. After the surgery Cheryl and I did some cleaning in preparation for our guests and then we went for a walk through town (hence the museum visit). As in Guadeloupe, the flavour is very European but there seem to be less white people here, at least in St Pierre.

The town of St. Pierre is quite unique. Before the volcano it was considered the “Paris of the Caribbean”. The town was built up from the sea and most of the buildings were made of stone. Today you can wander through some of the ruins which are still standing – the cathedral (still in use), theatre and jail are quite marvelous. Even some of the newer buildings incorporate parts of the ruins from the old town – either parts of walls or walls that are now garden fences.

My challenging dinghy finally did me in. Griff always said ‘What’s the worst that could happen – you could fall in’. Well today I did. Backwards into the water when I was trying to get out at the town dock. Fortunately Griff was the only witness to my ‘graceful’ exit from the dinghy. It meant a ride back to the boat so I could change into dry clothes before we could go exploring in the town. Griff is insisting that I mention that he fell in first. He fell out of the dinghy while working on the engine when we were in The Saintes.