Confusingly, Cariacou and Petite Martinique are a part of the Grenadines
but are also a part of Grenada and not St Vincent. And Petit St Vincent,
only a spin-pass and a drop-kick from Petite Martinique, is part of St Vincent,
not Grenada!
We motor-sailed up from Grenada, reaching the well-sheltered Tyrrel Bay on
the south-west corner of Carricou at six in the evening. Surrounded as we
were by a plethora of World ARC and other yachts, it was just as well that the
protection was good. It blew a steady twenty five knots or so through the
night. Before many of them had stirred, we up-anchored and moved round to
Hillsborough, the only town on the island. It was a sleepy place, but the
Immigration and Customs were very friendly and, despite warnings on Grenada, a
model of efficiency. They cleared us out for a day in advance, enabling us
to spend the night in Petite Martinique. Curiously named for a part of an
ex-British Colony, there are two stories to explain it. One is that the
French first colonised this island in the 18th Century, the other is that in
shape it resembles Martinique itself. Both are probably true, but
nevertheless the 560 acres soon became firmly a part of Grenada.
We had time to explore the island before a sun-downer and dinner in
the Palm Tree Bar and Restaurant, stunningly set by the beach and overlooking
the anchorage. Good but steep concrete roads soon gave way to rough
tracks, but I guess you could get a vehicle to most of the little houses.
Many of these seemed to be unoccupied or kept as occasional houses. Maybe
their occupants have left to seek work in Grenada; little happens on the island
apart from some fishing and rather listless small boat building. It is a
pretty place. There is a steep wooded hill rising to 750 feet (it sounds
bigger this way than in metres), and the wandering goats and dogs maybe explain
the off-putting fences that surround every property. Despite the sign that
it opened All Hours, there was no sign of life in the Supermarket, and even less
in the adjoining Internet Cafe and Boutique. The Roman Catholic church was
locked; nothing else was apart from the single-engined Power Station. The
prominently signed Desalination Plant was derelict - maybe they get more rain
these days. Disappointingly, the place was spoilt by rubbish. When
things cease to work or be useful, they are simply dumped outside the dwelling's
fence, where they slowly moulder away. The local people were very friendly
and welcoming. We took a drink in a nearby bar before moving on to the
Palm Tree. We were the only customers in both. Apparently March is
the off season, but even in high season (Christmas time) I doubt that the place
gets crowded. Particularly after our apalling lunch in Hillsborough, the
food was good and the two charming young waitresses looked after us well.
This morning we have motored across the bay into the lee of Petit St
Vincent (of course nowhere near St Vincent) for breakfast and a swim. It
is less than a mile from our overnight anchorage, but we have changed our
courtesy flag - we are in a different country now. After a swim, it was
off to Clifton on Union Island where we are about to clear in formally to
the Grenadines - a part of St Vincent.
I hope you are less confused by the political divides than I
am.
Meanwhile, all is well with us, and very best wishes to you all.
James, Paul and Volker