The hurricane season officially begins in the Caribbean on 1 June. And even though the weather is still mostly sunny this year and the trade winds are constantly ensuring cool nights at anchor, the atmosphere is different to twelve years ago when we were in the region with the Iron Lady around Christmas time. In Trinidad, the hardstands were already filled with boats, tarpaulins were stretched, sails were unfurled and suitcases were packed. The organised shopping tours to the wholesalers remained empty. The boats usually spend the vulnerable months from June to November without their owners on the southernmost Caribbean island.
Less than 80 nautical miles further north, on the spice island of Grenada, the situation is different. Of course, the one or other returnee is also craned here, but most of the ships that enter the popular sheltered bays on the south coast of Grenada head for the island to spend the hurricane season here. Statistically speaking, the risk of experiencing a hurricane is low, and the escape route to Trinidad out of the hurricane zone is short. A day trip. Go West is the other alternative for crews who are on their way to the Pacific or the western part of the Caribbean anyway. And there are also several loopholes for those who don't want to leave the island even in the event of a hurricane warning. If the worst comes to the worst, you can ground your boat deep in the mangrove swamps, moor it with several anchors and shore lines and wait out the storm on land. Personally, we don't like the idea of being stuck between the mangroves with the "Marlin" in close proximity to fishing boats and other sailors. With an average distance of 180 nautical miles sailed so far, it seems more logical to flee forwards. The American sailors know their way around here, for them the Caribbean is practically on their doorstep, and they say that you can safely sail in the area around Grenada and St Vincent until the beginning of August as long as you keep an eye on the weather forecast.
Checking the NOAA hurricane warning is now part of our morning routine.
Life is also changing for the population on land, the cruise ship pier will be deserted for the next six months, many locals who work as tourist guides, in restaurants or bars in the high season are returning to their villages on the less touristically developed eastern side of Grenada for the summer. Torches and thermos flasks for emergencies are advertised in the hardware stores. Grenada was spared hurricanes for many decades until Hurricane Ivan hit the island unexpectedly in 2004, causing severe devastation. Even today, not all the damage has been repaired. Churches without roofs, collapsed houses and broken windows are a common sight. The tropical storm also caused damage in the national park and on the plantations, from which nature is only slowly recovering. All the nutmeg trees on Belmont Estate were destroyed in 2004, reports one of the plantation's employees; a tree has to be ten years old to bear fruit for the first time, since then the family running the plantation has switched almost completely to cocoa cultivation. "Since Ivan, nature has gone crazy here," the owner of a small kiosk tells us. "But it has also brought good things. Since 2004, the mango trees have been bearing like crazy, all year round."
After a quick crossing from Trinidad, we anchor by chance exactly where we didn't want to be, namely in Prickly Bay, one of the centres of organised cruising life. Once again, the ship's chandlery can be reached by dinghy, the Grenadas Cruisers Net is broadcast in the morning via repeater on channel 66, and where in Trinidad the offer/search section was over, here the businesses category follows, in which the local restaurants can advertise their dinner specials and the tour operators their excursions. For us, this is definitely the time to switch off.
Actually, we also want to switch off or downshift ourselves, finally anchor in the bays without lights at night, go for a walk on beaches without a beach bar and perhaps only have five neighbours instead of 80. Unfortunately, despite four weeks of hard labour in Trinidad, the to-do list is far from being completed. With the help of Rene from the Mira, Micha installs the replacement motor for the Fischer Panda generator in a three-day operation. Power at the touch of a button, almost as good as a power socket. Unfortunately, despite wind, solar and now generator power, we still have no electricity at night, the batteries are definitely dead and can't store our painstakingly obtained juice. We order new ones in the USA, which are transported by ship to save costs. A ship journey across the Caribbean with final customs formalities takes time, so we prepare ourselves for three weeks of waiting.
Our children don't mind the wait at all, as family boats are now arriving in Prickly Bay almost every day. Many of them crossed the Atlantic in November, spent the season in the Antilles and are now arriving in Grenada for the winter like migratory birds. "We were in sailing mode, now it's maintenance mode" is how one Swede aptly describes it. Swedes, Australians, Austrians, Spaniards, Italians, Russians and South Africans are represented, and in the afternoons on the beach, all language barriers are forgotten for the children. We often have overnight guests on board or a few more pupils in the morning lessons at the round table. On other days, we hardly get to see our ladies. We help each other out, a few parents are always on the beach, the ones who have been released from work drive the boat projects forward. We turn hatches round so that we can finally catch the wind at the anchorage and channel it through the boat, coat hooks, shelves and storage options are created, and even the washing machine is brought to life. It's when we're working that we realise again and again how much boat we've bought, everything takes on a different dimension, including the work. Micha converts the bare rear locker into a conveniently accessible cellar. And together we pull what feels like 500 metres of cable through the ship so that we can finally have a say on shortwave. The "Marlin" is on air. It's about time.
The weather remains calm, it rains just enough for us to collect enough water, no storm warnings, no doldrums. The catastrophe that shocked the entire sailing community happened in the middle of the anchor field. At dawn, a smouldering fire broke out behind the electrical panel on the 80-foot aluminium sloop "Uisge Beatha", which was almost three years old. All attempts to bring the fire under control with fire extinguishers failed; the pump of the only fire boat on Grenada was defective. Less than two hours later, the first of the deckhouse windows burst and the yacht was engulfed in flames within minutes. Anyone who was awake at that time was stunned to see the sails burning, the carbon mast breaking and the gas tanks exploding. First the paint and filler crumbled into the water of the bay, then the entire aluminium hull deformed as 4,000 litres of diesel burned inside the ship. A thick black cloud of smoke hung over the bay for hours. The wreck has now been completely burnt out, leaving only an empty shell with a surprisingly intact stainless steel railing on the hull lying alongside a tugboat. Holes are roughly laminated with boards to prevent the wreck from sinking. The surveyors are all over the place. Who pays how much, as always, especially when, as with this Jongert, several millions are at stake.
Despite all the social contacts, we don't really fall in love with Prickly Bay, because somehow you feel like you're in a big holiday resort. Nothing on land but hotels, beach bars, diving centres and restaurants. The bars have a fixed programme: Monday pizza, Tuesday Trivial Pursuit, Wednesday bingo, Thursday dominoes and Friday the same old band. To be honest, all of this could take place on any other tropical island in the world if it weren't for a lone steel drummer playing hits from the 70s and 80s on Saturdays. To really get to know the island of Grenada, we have to get out of our sailing ghetto. By minibus across the island, into the rainforest, the cocoa and spice plantations and, of course, to the start of the carnival.
Grenada and a few other islands seem to prefer to celebrate their carnival when the tourist season is over. Spicemas 2013 takes place in mid-August, but the fifth season begins ten weeks earlier on 1 June. On this day, it repeatedly showers heavily, but the rain is warm and the revellers on the streets huddle together under their umbrellas. The road along the shore, where the minibuses usually honk loudly to collect their customers, is closed, and a local celebrity stands on the stage in a tight white dress and oversized sunglasses and comments on the events. The carnival groups have come from all regions of the islands. In their sometimes colourful, sometimes scary costumes, they parade through the crowd, rattling chains and spraying baby powder. The exuberant merriment only begins after the parade, when the steel drum bands play the latest soca and calypso hits. St Georges celebrates late into the night on the Carenage, but at some point, we have to strike sail.
When we finally manage to pull the iron out of the sand of the bay, I have to smile about our last entry in the logbook. Anchor drop to five metres in Prickly Bay for Maya's birthday party. Maya's birthday? That was four weeks ago! High time for new shores.
