Noted for its world-class diving sites, the “drier” side of Bonaire is many times forgotten. The salt mountains of the south, the largest pink flamingo sanctuary in the Caribbean and the wild and barren Washington Slagbaai Park in the North all contribute to a side of Bonaire that some mistakenly overlook.

Though diving is what comes to mind when thinking about Bonaire, we were expecting non-diving guests and needed to plan activities that were not water-based…somewhat of a challenge for a sailboat moored next to an island…but hey, we’re good hosts! After a day of wandering around downtown Kralendijk…clean, bright and alive with shops and restaurants…we checked out possibilities for island exploration at the tourist information office, rented a van and set off to explore.

The island of Bonaire is shaped like a boomerang. The northern part is rough, hilly, arid terrain and the location of Washington Slagbaai National Park, our first day’s endeavor. Equipped with a picnic lunch and lots of water, we left mid-morning in our non-air-conditioned van and headed north along the leeward coast. The whole island is only 24 miles long by 7 miles wide max and much of the road we traveled was one-way. Our chances of getting lost were drastically diminished.

View from the turnout at Gotomeer

Our first stop was Gotomeer, a large salt pond and pink flamingo sanctuary. There’s a small turnout for vehicles above the lake that affords an impressive panoramic view. There are twice as many pink flamingos in Bonaire as there are people and you can easily distinguish the hundreds of slender pink bodies contrasting with the blue lake water below. In addition to the view, the turnout area was the home of countless iguanas, birds and whiptail lizards, which were obviously used to handouts. The entire pack hustled towards us en masse as soon as stale crackers were offered.

Traveling through Rincon, the oldest town in Bonaire, a smaller well-signed road leads to the entrance of Washington Slagbaai Park, a 13,500-acre game preserve. The uniformed rangers were pleasant and knowledgeable, but cautioned us seriously about exiting the park no later than 5PM.

“What happens if we’re late?” I asked.

“We lock you in.” was the simple reply…no smile.

We opted to have lunch at the park entrance under a large dividivi tree, which provided both shade and seating. The whiptail lizards with their iridescent turquoise tails, backs and feet, provided endless entertainment. There were hundreds of them and they weren’t shy in the least, insisting upon their share of the lunch. These toothless beggars clambered at our feet for any snacks available and with very little inducement, would climb up our arms or legs for a proffered treat.

The park roads are not paved and provided a challenge for the driver and test of endurance for the passengers. The 34 km ride took more than 5 hours including several stops to view the scenery and rest our bones from the bumpy ride. There are blowholes, a lighthouse, outstanding scenery, a climb up to Brandaris (the highest point in Bonaire at 241 meters) and a multitude of beaches to explore. We could have spent the entire day at Playa Kokolishi with its large rock formations and natural coral “benches”, but the clock was ticking and we kept moving.

Without a doubt, the best part of the park visit was the host of animals we saw. Lizards, iguanas, goats, parrots, trupials and a myriad of other vibrant birds delighted us throughout the visit. The iguanas are colorful, numerous and large…about 4-5’ long from their snouts to the tips of their long, striped tails. They’re herbivores and enjoyed our banana peels as a snack. Knowing they were herbivores, however, did not preclude me from shrieking and beating a hasty retreat when one became a bit too aggressive for my comfort level.

Iguanas, though herbivores, weren’t my cup of tea.

The park map, provided by the rangers, showed both long and short routes. After a couple of hours, we keyed in on the “short” route without hesitation. We entered the park just before Noon and barely made it out a few minutes after the aforementioned 5:00pm. The disgruntled rangers were waiting for us to close the gates and politely accused us of “lollygagging”…a first in our cruising careers. Exhausted and dehydrated, we returned to the boat for cocktails and sustenance and planned a day for heading south.

Salt mountains dominate the landscape in the south.

The southern terrain is low-lying with wetlands and mangroves. The most distinguishing features are the enormous mountains of salt piled along the shore. Many of the islands we’ve visited once produced salt, however Bonaire is the only one that continues to do so. Cargill Salt is one of the world’s largest salt producers and manufactures about 2,000 tons/hour for export, primarily for use in water softeners and ice control applications. As we drove along, the blue-green of the sea on one side contrasted sharply with the rust-red water of the saltpans. Modern windmills, used to pump water from one saltpan to another, dot the countryside and seem incongruous with their surroundings.

Remnants of the past are profuse in Bonaire. Slave huts, constructed in the mid-1800s, line the beach opposite the saltpans. Built to provide minimal shelter for the slaves who worked the salt ponds and collected the salt, they remain standing as an integral part of Bonaire’s history.

Donkeys, once used to help cart the salt to the waiting ships, run loose. They’re everywhere and are also considered a part of Bonaire’s heritage. Observing the “Watch Out for Donkeys” street signs (written in local Papiamentu), we stopped frequently to let donkeys cross the street in front of us. Many times they waited at the window in hopes of handouts and we learned to save apple cores and banana peels for just such occasions.

Donkeys aren’t shy in Bonaire.

The Willemstoren Lighthouse stands sentry at the most southern point of the island before the solitary road turns north again allowing a view of the windward coast. Unusual sculptures line the shore, a combination of imagination and the endless supply of jetsam. Pink flamingos are plentiful. Wild donkeys and goats comb the scrubby landscape for food. Midst this flat, barren setting lies Lac Bay, a mecca for windsurfers. Whether you opt to participate or just sip a cold beer and watch, the scene is colorful and lively. Across the bay at Cai, a long, bumpy, dusty ride away, mountains of conch shells line the beach. A sign reminds visitors to leave the shells in tact…these, too, are part of the heritage Bonaire is striving to maintain.

Two full days to explore Bonaire was barely adequate and we could have taken closer to a week if time was not an issue. Unquestionably, diving is extraordinary in Bonaire, but the “drier” side is not to be missed.

©2004 Marcie Connelly-Lynn

This article was excerpted from Marcie’s new ebook: Caribbean Stories.

About Marcie Connelly-Lynn

Marcie Connelly-Lynn and her husband, David Lynn, have lived aboard their Liberty 458 cutter since 2000 when they sold up and sailed off.

Since that time, they’ve put over 70,000 nautical miles under the keel and visited 30+ countries on five continents. Their philosophy of “just a little further” has taken them from the Caribbean, twice across the Atlantic, around four of the five Great Southern Capes and across the Pacific with lots of stops to explore along the way. They’re currently cruising in Australia.

“Living on a boat gives us a different perspective on travel. We’re able to visit places that are inaccessible for many. We spend lots of time at sea, but we make the most of our land time, too. We’re not on a 2-week vacation. This is our lifestyle.”

Marcie and David both write extensively about their travels and life aboard Nine of Cups and are regular contributors to Good Old Boat and Ocean Navigator. They’re also active members of Seven Seas Cruising Association.

Their blogsite, Just A Little Further (www.justalittlefurther.com) is updated daily and they also maintain a comprehensive website about their travels at www.nineofcups.com.

Marcie’s new e-book, Caribbean Stories is a compilation of stories, some previously published in Caribbean Compass magazine, and others new stories never published before.

It’s full of color photos and anecdotes that will allow you to experience the beauty and thrill of sailing in the Carib.

Nine of Cups’ Caribbean Stories, is available for sale on their blogsite, website and at Good Old Boat.

Read also on this website

• Boat jobs: Pink or Blue? Marcie Lynn comments
• What Marcie Lynn Likes Most About Cruising
• Marcie Lynn’s Galley Advice

Cruising Life: The Best Stories from Caribbean Compass

I  first read Ruth’s article about going overboard when it was first published in the Caribbean Compass back in 1999.

It was an amazing story and I wondered if I could possibly be as resourceful as Ruth if something like that happened to me. Before I went cruising, I thought if  anything bad happened out on the sea, well, there is no way I could possibly cope.

Once cruising though I began to learn however, that occasionally the inthinkable does occur (as it does on land as well), and I started meeting people who had coped with all sorts of emergencies  and survived.

This knowledge of course doesn’t make you complacent, in my case it made me less panicked and more able to think: what is the best way to avoid a major problem, and how should we respond in an emergency.

We all eagerly await the monthly arrival of the Caribbean Compass in the anchorages down island, and it is a special achievement to have an article published in the Caribbean Compass. Probably nothing gives a truer picture of what Caribbean cruising is like in all its variety than  the articles that Sally Erdle, editor and former circumnavigator publishes in the Compass.

Thank you Sally Erdle and Rona Beame for putting together a book of all the best stories from the Compass! I am sure I have missed some of these stories the first time around, and others like Ruth’s, I was glad to have the chance to reread again and be amazed.

— Kathy Parsons, Women and Cruising

We were sailing our Morgan 41,  Sea Dream I,  from Grenada to Antigua. The Christmas Winds had arrived early and were in force. We’d had a truly awful  night sailing from Carriacou to St. Lucia — black as the inside of an elephant  with winds that never dropped below 30 knots, plus hourly squalls of 40 to 45  knots.

In spite of all that, my husband, Vern, and I  weren’t expecting what hit us just north of Martinique: a squall with 55-knot  winds and gusts to 60. It lasted only ten minutes, but felt like ten hours as we clung grimly to the wheel.

The main blew out and then, once the winds calmed  down to only 40 knots, Vern noticed a line trailing along the lee side of the  boat. I was upset to realize that it was all that was left of our Fortress  anchor. We had lost 100 feet of chain and 200 feet of rode. A lot of water must  have come over the bow during the squall, with enough force to lift the pawl  off the windlass gypsy and let the anchor run.

With the main blown, we needed the engine and  didn’t want any lines tangling in the prop. Vern said, “Be very, very careful!”  as I went out on deck and up forward to haul the line in.

I was sitting on the  foredeck with the windlass between my knees and one hand on the windward  lifeline — and them suddenly I wasn’t!  Sea Dream  and I had parted company. It’s a distressing  sensation being run over by your home, but somehow I managed to kick out from  under the hull before I got aft to the propeller.

Vern brought the boat around immediately and I  was expecting to be run down again, but managed to grab the trailing anchor  rode, which immediately pulled me underneath the boat again. Even with the  engine out of gear and a blown-out main, 40 knots of wind and six- to  eight-foot seas push a boat along at a fair clip and I couldn’t hang on without  being dragged under. The next time Vern came for me he threw the jibsheet over  the side. That was better, as I could let myself trail aft of the boat and not  be sucked under the hull.

The next thing I remember was trying to climb aboard using the rudder extension for the wind-vane oar. I still had the  figure-eight stop knot of the jibsheet tight in my right fist. Vern was  standing at the stern knotting a line to hand to me. I got as far as standing  on the rudder with both hands on the rubrail, moved one hand to grip anything  that wasn’t slippery with salt and away I went again. Seconds later Vern had  the line ready to throw — and couldn’t see me.

By this time it was 0900 hours, which meant we  were 12 or 15 miles north of St. Pierre, which we’d left at 0600. Vern put out  a “Mayday” on VHF channel 16, which was heard by at least two sailboats and the  girls at the reception desk of the Anchorage Hotel in Dominica. But two other  sailboats that were close to us heard nothing. (When they saw our sailboat  going in circles didn’t they wonder if there was a problem? At least with the  seamanship?) The two boats sailed serenely past, without changing course for a  closer look.

It occurred to me that I’d be more visible  waving a flag, and I tried waving my T-shirt. It’s a knee-length red beach  cover-up and, dry, would make an excellent signaling device. Wet, not so great.  Try some time waving a soaking wet T-shirt overhead while swimming in six- to eight-foot seas! It’s heavy, for a start.

I stretched it out between my hands and threw it  into the air as I reached the top of a wave, but I didn’t have much hope. A successful sighting would have required me being on top of a wave, Sea  Dream being on the top of a wave and  Vern looking in exactly the right direction, all at the same time. It didn’t  work. I decided to put the shirt back on for modesty’s sake.

Vern circled for an hour, searching for me. It didn’t take me long to find out that with the wind pushing it, Sea Dream was drifting off faster than I could follow, so I stopped trying. We’d joked once that if I fell overboard he should just carry on to the next island and I’d swim in, so I headed for Dominica. I’d lost my glasses in the fall overboard but could see Dominica. Martinique was lost in squalls and rain. I turned my back to the wind and swam.

Vern, meanwhile, was having a perfectly awful day. For one thing, it was the first time he’d single-handed in the nearly 12  years since we retired aboard. At least the winds hadn’t piped up to 55 knots again, but with the blown sail down to the reef point and having to stand on the cockpit coaming to reach the reefing lines Vern didn’t have much to hang onto. He was nearly overboard himself more than once. (Which would have been a real disaster as he has negative buoyancy, as do about three percent of all people. Unlike me, he carries no built-in flotation.) At last he controlled the sail and headed north (in Dominica they speak English) to organize a search. But all the way, he was trying to work out how to break the news to my family that I had drowned.

It took Sea Dream until nearly 1700 to get close to Roseau, when three local men in a boat came out almost a mile to welcome Vern to the island and offer help. He certainly needed it! In moments Brian, James and Darryl were aboard. Brian was on the radio to the Coast Guard to report my loss, since Vern doesn’t hear well and couldn’t understand the questions they asked. Darryl was right inside the chain locker reeving the second anchor chain through the primary hawse so the boat could be anchored, and James was on the stern preparing lines to carry ashore to a palm tree.

My day was much easier. I knew I was fine, and  could tell Vern was still aboard and coping because the boat was under control.

The funniest things go through your head when you’re swimming alone between islands. Mostly I was furious for making whatever elementary mistake let me fall overboard in the first place. All kinds of thoughts went through my head: “I guess I’ll never get those Christmas cards written after all” and “Don’t start throwing away my business-card collection,  Vern, because I’ll be back!” and “I suppose he’ll be spending our life savings on a helicopter search…”

A jellyfish tentacle wrapped around my arm and I picked it off and said, “Not now, I haven’t the time!” right out loud. A dolphin swam by 30 or 40 feet away and that was a thrill, finally to swim with a dolphin, even if it was only for a second or two. A small container ship came past about a quarter of mile away, heading west, then changed course to the north, going around me exactly as if I were a pivot.

Of all possible ways to die, drowning would be my least favorite, so I didn’t. Besides, Vern had his first wife for 32 years and I could scarcely demand equal time if I weren’t around. It was necessary to stay afloat.

I thought of all the things that I’d be leaving unfinished, and shrugged. There were no regrets except for the stack of unanswered letters; some we’d even taken to Canada with us and brought back still unanswered. I was glad I hadn’t skimped on telling family and friends I love them. I was glad I hadn’t been tethered to the boat, as I’d have been battered on the way over the side or dragged under the hull until I drowned. I’d taken on quite enough water just trying to hang on by the broken anchor rode.

Just at noon, I saw a sailboat heading my way and thought, “Can’t be Vern; he doesn’t have a jib out.” Soon the boat was so close that if a wave hadn’t smacked the bow aside I’d have been run over again!

I yelled “Hey, can you see me?” but they already had. Anthony said, “There’s someone in the water!” and Justin had looked around to see who was missing. From there, the rescue was textbook perfect. Anthony never took his eyes off me as Justin managed the jib and brought Enchantress around to circle me. Her dinghy was out on a very long painter and they maneuvered it around so I could grab hold. I told them I was very tired, which was not strictly true, and would need a ladder to get aboard, which was true. I’ve never been able to climb out of the sea into an inflatable dinghy, so I just clung on to theirs until they put a ladder down. Then they towed the dinghy in, threw me a line to knot around my chest and towed me to the foot of the ladder. I was soon aboard and provided with a dry towel that was colour-coordinated to my red T-shirt.

Enchantress had a touchy transmit button on the VHF radio and so used a hand-held unit to tell their companion boat, Natasha,  that they’d picked up a hitch-hiker. On  Natasha,  Federica passed messages on to anyone who would take them — to let Vern know I was fine, to stop him initiating an expensive search, and to get him some help securing the boat in harbour. The message went through to  Sudiki, a Gulfstar 50 sistership to  Enchantress. (While Federica was on the radio, a female French voice broke in to tell her to get off channel 16 as it is for emergency and rescue! When I met James and “Freddy” later, I asked her what she had said in reply and got a flood of Italian. Though I didn’t understand, I suspect there is a Frenchwoman around with a blistered ear.)

Enchantress and Natasha were headed for Fort-de-France. I badly wanted to go to Dominica and nearly asked to be thrown back in, but common sense prevailed. As soon as we arrived, Justin took me ashore to ask about ferry times. No luck, as the depot was closed tight. Next it was back to the dock nearest the anchorage. He went off to find a policeman to report me to, and I went to Customs on the off chance that it might be open.

A lovely young bride was posing for photographs in the garden as I trudged through, barefoot, blowsy, tousled, salty and myopic — with luck I walked behind all the family cameras. Customs was shut, and I spent a frustrating quarter-hour with the French phone system, discovering that it’s impossible to find an operator. The only toll-free number to answer yielded a fireman who listened to my tale of woe politely in spite of my terrible French, and assured me he knew of no way to call an operator either.

Back I went through the wedding party, now photographing bride and groom with their youngest attendants. Soon Justin and a pair of police officers arrived; my final view of the bride was as she picked her way to her car, blocked in by the police vehicles, and past my disreputable-looking self being grilled by the gendarmes. The police left us with names and phone numbers to show Customs we’d spoken to them and assured us that someone would call Dominica’s Coast Guard and abort any search plans.

My rescuers fed me, put me to bed, and lent me the fare to Dominica. The next morning I got the sixth-last seat on a 350-passenger ferry.

Meanwhile, Vern was still having adventures.
Just at dark, he finally learned I’d been rescued, when Chris and Duff of Sudiki came by and told him the news. Later they collected him, fed him, let him talk and wind down, put a call through to Enchantress via cell phone, Crosma and VHF radio, and generally made it possible for Vern to sleep that night.

Next morning early, Brian and James, who had welcomed  Sea Dream  to Dominica, were back to check up on Vern and help him move the boat to a mooring since it was gradually dragging ashore, when the Dominican Coast Guard came alongside with three officers aboard. One stayed in the bow with a 12-gauge riot gun pointing at Vern, one managed their boat with an automatic rifle across its seat, and  the third came aboard  Sea Dream and got Vern’s attention by taking him firmly by the arm.

“You are under arrest,” he said. “Pack a bag, lock the boat. You may be away for some time.” Vern faced three charges, in this order of importance: allowing Dominican nationals aboard before clearing Customs, not clearing Customs immediately upon arrival, and doing away with his wife.

Once Vern was in the police boat there was no further chat. He was taken to the head office of the Coast Guard, which is also the police force, and helped ashore since the landing is difficult. It took some time to produce a statement. Partway through, the atmosphere became much more civil.

Afterwards, one officer kindly pointed out a bakery where Vern could buy a much-belated breakfast. Then Vern was bundled back into the boat and taken to the ferry dock, where he cleared in through Customs and Immigration. Without pausing to think, he put my name on the crew list. The Immigration officer crossed it off with a scowl, saying, “We’ll clear her in if she arrives.” IF!

Vern was still waiting on the dock when the ferry decanted me at 4 o’clock that afternoon — and I was very pleased to see him.

We’ve proved it again: it ain’t over till the fat lady SINKS!

This article first appeared in the April 1999 issue of Caribbean Compass.

About Ruth Chesman

Canadians Ruth Chesman and her late husband, Vern, cruised the Lesser Antilles island chain in the Caribbean for many years aboard their Morgan 41, Sea Dream I.

Back home in Canada, the Chesmans were active members of the Fanshawe Yacht Club of London, Ontario. Ruth was always able to see — and communicate — the funny side of sailing, even in a potentially fatal situation. Her stories have appeared in Cruising World and Scuttlebutt, as well as in Caribbean Compass.

My name is Elli Straus.  My husband and I pulled our two daughters out of school three years ago this October and sailed for the better part of a year on our 42ft. Beneteau, Wind of Peace.

Our adventure began in Baltimore, continued down the East Coast, through the Bahamas chain, the Turks and Caicos islands and on to Luperon in the Dominican Republic where we spent five weeks before turning the bow back towards home.

Much like the twelve featured families on your website, we left wondering if this was something we could actually do, and returned thankful for an experience that will remain in our hearts forever.  I kept a daily log of our journey and took hundreds of pictures for good measure.

Since returning, I have faithfully followed Wendy Mitman Clarke’s adventures on Osprey, often weeping with the strength of the memories they conjure.

I am writing to you this evening to offer long overdue but heartfelt thanks for your wonderful website.

I have turned to it often, first looking for advice and resources when we were in the planning phase of our trip (found plenty of both) and now for inspiration about the next boat, the next adventure, when life’s –and two teenage girls’ educational demands no longer keep us tethered to land.

It was Ann Vanderhoof’s An Embarrassment of Mangoes that inspired our itinerary, and I remember touching the couples’ boat card in awe when I saw it tacked onto the wall at the Chat ‘n Chill in Georgetown.

Today, when Wendy Whitman Clarke speaks of Handy Andy, Papo and John Wayne in Luperon, I’m glad to say I know exactly what these mens’ kind faces look like.  When she speaks of the warmth and generosity of the Dominican people, and particularly the people of Luperon, I know precisely what she is talking about.

I am honored to share with you a part of our unforgettable experience : Here are my favorite cruising photos + some excerpts of my log.

1. A Favorite (Shakedown) Anchorage – Dobbins Island, Maryland ‘At approximately 4:00pm we drop anchor off tiny but idyllic Dobbins Island… despite my worries of drifting, our anchor holds beautifully and we wake up the next morning at precisely the same spot we dropped anchor the night before… raising anchor after breakfast goes as smoothly…What we don’t know yet is that we have already decided that David at the bow with me behind the wheel is how we will execute this important maneuver for months to come. In complete silence, David signals directions that I immediately translate into action. Wind of Peace moves forward, backs up, swivels and ultimately stops on command to the captain’s orders. We have already perfected the “anchoring dance” and we don’t even know it yet.’

2. ICW Treasures – near Charleston, South Carolina ‘… I suggest that David takes the girls for a dinghy ride and walk on the marshy patches of barrier islands that line this stretch of the ICW. By now, more sailboats have approached, all stopped dead in their tracks by the unexpected bridge closure, and have also dropped anchor to wait out the lengthy delay. David and the girls set off a little after 2:00pm, promising to be back on board no later than 3:15pm – plenty of time to make the (newly) scheduled 4:00pm bridge opening.No sooner have I settled down in the cockpit with my book when I hear the bridge operator break in with news that due to the heavy volume of vessels waiting to cross, he will “attempt” a bridge opening at 3:00pm. I scramble down below and see it is now 2:45pm. I need to get David and the girls back – now!I run up on deck and can see them exploring the marshes, stopping every now and then to pick something up I call out to them and realize almost immediately the futility of my action. I run back down below, unhook the ship’s chrome bell from the galley and back up on deck start ringing it like a woman possessed. No response. I can see David very clearly and he hasn’t once turned to look at me. I’m thinking… I’m thinking… I run back down below and grab the emergency signaling horn. Back on deck I sound the horn 4, maybe 5 times before David turns to look at me. Immediately, David and the girls are back in the dinghy and heading towards Wind of Peace.’

3. A Lesson in Social Studies – Blackpoint Settlement, Exumas ‘Upon entering the oldest combined class (Grades 7 and 8), the students, immaculately outfitted in clean, crisply pressed uniforms all rise to greet me in unison. I chat with their teacher (also the school’s principal), a young beautiful woman – with equally impeccable manners, who tells me she “would be delighted” to have us visit and observe a class.We chat for a few more minutes before I notice that the students, so silent I have almost forgotten they are in the classroom, have remained standing in honor of their visitor – me! I am embarrassed by this unfamiliar show of respect, thank them for their hospitality and apologize for interrupting class before leaving… I think of all the faces that have smiled and greeted us since our arrival at Blackpoint Settlement and decide that it’s entirely possible that we have stumbled upon the friendliest, kindest populations in the entire Bahamian chain.’

4. Resting the Horses (John Wayne waving) – Luperon, Dominican Republic ‘Before too long, we began our ascent on narrow, steep trails, climbing higher and higher into the surrounding mountainside. We continued up trails that seemed impossibly steep, leading us into Jurassic Park-like vistas. At times the forest was so overgrown, Osiris (aka John Wayne) used his machete to clear our trail as we gently coaxed our tired ponies through, ducking under thorn laden branches or dodging exotic palm leaves. We continued through steep fields of grazing cattle and reached a herd of wild horses, grazing and roaming freely amidst soaring palm trees and swaying grasses.We brought our ponies to a complete stop and watch in utter wonder as the wild horses ran free, completely transfixed both by their beauty and the beauty of our surroundings…’

Next post (Part 2): More photos and excerpts from Elli’s log book.

Read also on this website

• 12 Questions to 12 Sailing  Families
• Wendy Clarke: The OSPREY Sailing Family Answers 12 Questions  from Women & Cruising
• Ann Vanderhoof’s advice on setting up your galley and cooking onboard
• Food is Ann Vanderhoof’s route into Caribbean life

More information (external links)

• An Embarrassment of Mangoes: A Caribbean Interlude, by Ann Vanderhoof is available in regular book or Kindle e-book format from amazon.com.
• Cruising World Magazine: Articles from Wendy Mitman Clarke

Want to help other families get out cruising ?

Share YOUR experience
with Women and Cruising readers!

Email kathy@forcruisers.com or leave a comment below.

Question:

I have a question regarding safety while cruising. Our dream has for the last almost 20 years was to retire early and go cruising to the Caribbean aboard our 41 ft ketch.

But now, as that time is quickly approaching, I’m beginning to be afraid of the safety issues. It seems there is an increasing number of reported incidents against cruisers, whether petty theft or worse. Enough to make us wonder if going cruising is now safe.

To all of you who are living the life we are dreaming of, is it safe? Is personal safety in the Caribbean worse than cities here in the US? Am I being silly or ??? Any input would be appreciated!

Thanks,
Karen

The Caribbean Safety and Security Net responds:

I don’t know what your source is for saying that there is an increasing number of reported incidents against cruisers.

The situation is certainly getting more press, both legitimate as well  everyone and his brother posting his version of a single incident in a blog. Most of these blogs are opinions only, often no basis in fact, but they do serve to get people riled up.

While I don’t see an increase in the total reports over the years, I do see an increase in the reports of violent crimes, that is, robberies, assaults, etc., against yachts.  Reported violent crimes in 2008 were double the reports of violent crimes in 2005, although the rate of increase has slowed in the past two years. Most of these reports, although not all, come from Venezuela.

I don’t track crime issues in the US so it is impossible for me to say whether it is worse or not in the Caribbean. Various reports and analyses indicate that crime rates in New York City are down; I don’t know whether that is also the case in other major cities. Here in the islands crime rates among the citizens are on the rise, according to many studies, and that is an issue to the local people; many are frustrated that the authorities are not doing a better job in controlling it.

With the level of attention that they (the authorities) give to crimes against yachts, many yachtsmen share that frustration. I can’t even compare two different islands because there is no yacht-days statistic against which to compare reported incidents. And I do know that we don’t get reports of all the incidents that occur, for various reasons.

Some, maybe even many, of the incidents are because people continue to think this is paradise and they don’t take the same precautions as they did at home – locking the door when they leave, locking the car, not walking down dark streets alone. They seem to leave their brains at home.

Most of the incidents have nothing to do with the world economic condition, although the various island governments are quick to point to that as the cause. This stuff has been going on for years and is the result of some lazy people who want drugs or all the toys they see on US cable TV but are not willing to work to earn those toys. Most of the citizens of these countries are as upset as we visitors at the crimes.

It is an issue of tolerance for risk, as well as tolerance for anything else.  We do not visit Trinidad because we choose to anchor in clean water – the dirty water, poor anchoring conditions, everyday crime, etc. are not worth the great shopping and sightseeing – to us. Ditto Venezuela, although not for the same reasons. Ditto the Virgins, St. Martin, etc.

Rather than relying on rumor, either on the Internet or in person, those asking these questions should visit www.safetyandsecuritynet.com for some facts, as well as the precautions list (which offers advice on appropriate behavior) and much more stuff that has been asked over and over again for the past fourteen years.

About the Caribbean Safety and Security Net

The Caribbean Safety and Security Net is primarily an interactive high frequency radio network of cruising yachts which meets each morning on single sideband frequency 8104.0 at 1215 UTC for the purpose of exchanging information with regard to safety and security concerns while cruising in the Eastern Caribbean.

In addition to reporting and logging incidents, the Net provides a relay on emergency and priority messages from friends and family, boat watches for vessels missing or overdue, warnings of navigational hazards both natural and man-made, sources for medical services, and, as time allows, information on a variety of other topics, such as customs and immigration procedures and fees, other nets, sources of weather information, etc.

SSB 8104.0 at 1215 UTC
www.safetyandsecuritynet.com

See also on this website

• Is the Caribbean safe for cruising? What Caribbean Compass’ readers say

More info (external links)

• Caribbean Safety and Security Net website

Do you have a question for Women and Cruising? Let us know. Email kathy@forcruisers.com or leave a comment below.

Question

I have a question regarding safety while cruising. Our dream has for the last almost 20 years was to retire early and go cruising to the Caribbean aboard our 41 ft ketch.

But now, as that time is quickly approaching, I’m beginning to be afraid of the safety issues. It seems there is an increasing number of reported incidents against cruisers, whether petty theft or worse. Enough to make us wonder if going cruising is now safe.

To all of you who are living the life we are dreaming of, is it safe? Is personal safety in the Caribbean worse than cities here in the US? Am I being silly or ??? Any input would be appreciated!

Thanks,
Karen

We asked Sally Erdle, editor of the cruising newspaper “Caribbean Compass” to reply:

Dear Karen, I’d advise you not to give up your dream.

Yes, there are security issues in the Caribbean, as there are everywhere.

But recent input from active cruisers in the Caribbean might be enlightening:

Melodye Pompa of the “Caribbean Safety and Security Net” wrote in the January 2010 issue of Caribbean Compass:

Be wary of believing every blog you read on the Internet.

The downside of having such an extensive information tool is that everyone and his brother can post, claiming to have the final word on the facts.

Without specific information, various press media have published wild speculations about the dangers of cruising, including in their dire warnings about incidents that occurred ten or 20 years ago. There are now MORE rumors among the cruising community about crime than prior to the birth of the Security Net — change is not always progress!

The website www.safetyandsecuritynet.com includes a long list of safety tips accumulated throughout the nearly 14 years of the Net’s existence.

It is not difficult to take the necessary steps to avoid becoming the victim of a crime against yachts. There are, of course, no guarantees, but there are no guarantees in the life we choose to lead. There are, however, smart practices which can prevent petty to serious problems.

And here are excerpts from letters which are published in the June 2010 issue of Compass:

I am appalled at the wrong impression about the security situation in Chaguaramas, Trinidad that is being presented in articles put out by the media. My wife and I have lived on a boat in Chaguaramas for the past 11 years and have never felt that our personal safety was threatened.

Having enjoyed another wonderful cruising season from Grenada to Antigua, back to Grenada and in between, I felt I had to write to you about something that happened on our return to Canada.

One of the complaints most heard “down south” is about security issues, as if nothing happens anywhere else in the world.

After flying into Toronto we went to our son in Kingston, Ontario. He has a part share of a boat there and we arrived in time for launch weekend. On the Saturday we went to help with the clean-up on the boat. Being a small boat its propulsion, apart from sails, is by a small outboard engine. This we noted was locked in place. Early the Sunday morning we returned to the marina for launch to find a very distraught owner — the outboard had been stolen! Twelve engines and several dinghies on a trailer had gone.

So cruisers, just remember, it can happen anywhere…

It really amazes me when cruisers talk about all the crime in the Caribbean.

I don’t believe there is any more crime here than any other place in the world — there are just so many more opportunities.

When ashore, I live in a very nice home in a very nice neighborhood in the US. We have very little crime and feel secure in our house. But every night, we lock the doors, secure the windows and make sure lawnmowers, bicycles, etcetera, have been put away and locked up before we go to bed.

Why is it that cruisers who come to the Caribbean act differently? I am shocked at the stories I read in your paper, not by the acts of thievery, but in the ways that cruisers tempt would-be thieves and give them golden opportunities. Cruisers leave their hatches and companionways wide open and then go to sleep. Their decks are so cluttered with stuff, the boat looks like a floating Budget Marine store.

Ask yourself, would you really go to bed with your front door wide open back home, and leave a bunch of your belongings on the front yard by the street?

Hope this helps!

Sally

About Sally Erdle

Sally Erdle circumnavigated Bequia-to-Bequia with her husband, Tom Hopman, and their cat from 1989 to 1994 aboard their 1963 vintage Rhodes 41 double-headsail sloop, So Long, before settling back in the Caribbean to start the cruising newspaper Caribbean Compass in 1995.

See also on this website

• What Sally Erdle likes most about cruising
• Read the Caribbean Compass online!
  

More info (external links)

• Caribbean Compass website
• Caribbean Safety and Security Net website

Do you have a question for Women and Cruising?

Let us know. Email kathy@forcruisers.com or leave a comment below.

When my husband Steve and I first talked about going cruising, one of the strong appeals for me of traveling on a boat was that I would have my kitchen with me wherever we went.

I love to cook, to try new recipes and experiment, and Steve is a willing guinea pig. And we both love to eat. The name we chose for our sailboat is a dead giveaway: Receta is the Spanish word for recipe; we named Receta’s dinghy Snack.

Still, I didn’t realize this passion would do more than put food on our table. I soon discovered, however, that it could open up routes for us into Caribbean life.

Food launches conversations with strangers

When we moved onto the boat, I left behind not only the conveniences of my land-based kitchen, but North American convenience foods as well. In the Caribbean, fresh produce and fish markets became the new convenience.

This market woman on Dominica is rolling cinnamon bark into sticks. But you wouldn’t hear her call it “cinnamon” — on many Caribbean islands, it’s known simply as “spice. (Photo: Steve Manley)

Many of the items for sale were unfamiliar to us, but our foodie bent meant we were primed to try them.

I’d ask the vendors how they would prepare, say, the christophene (chayote) I was buying; or how I could turn the tamarind pods heaped on their tables into the refreshing tart-sweet drink we had just downed at a nearby food stall; or how I could use an unrecognizable-to-me green herb in my cooking. (One time, in the market in Castries, St. Lucia, the answer was that I should use it to make tea, to get rid of intestinal worms. I wormed out of that purchase and bought the cilantro-like herb chadon beni instead.)

On every trip to market, I make it my mission to buy something new. Tables overflowing with unusual herbs and greens make it easy in Castries, St Lucia (Photo: Steve Manley)	After taking these shots in the Castries, St. Lucia, market, Steve printed them onboard and gave copies to the women on our next trip to town. (Photo: Steve Manley)

Pleased by our interest, the vendors were eager to help. Often, other customers joined the conversation, too, offering their suggestions on how to use a fruit or vegetable. “Would you like me to come home with you and cook them?” the shopper next to me said when I fingered some flat, green, snow-pea-like pods in the market in Port of Spain, Trinidad. With the permission of the vendor, she showed me how to string the seim, as I learned the pods were called, and then mimed cutting them into diagonal strips. “These are very good in curries” she said before heading on her way.

Learning to roll coo-coo on Carriacou (with local cook Leslie Anne Calliste). (Photo: Steve Manley)

Emboldened by the positive reaction (and the information) our questions brought, we began poking our noses into kitchens, too, whenever we tasted wonderful island cooking on shore.

Invariably, we left with a recipe – albeit one of the “pinch of this, handful of that” variety – which formed the basis of my experiments in our galley afterwards.

When the results brought less than four-star reviews from Receta’s official food critic – that would be Steve – we went back to those who helped us, and asked more questions.

Even beyond markets and kitchens, we discovered food was a conversation starter, giving us a way to meet people. From taxi drivers to local boatmen, from customs officials to strangers we greet as we walk paths and roads, food is a subject that gets people talking. Not only does everyone have an opinion of what they like, but also people are proud of their country’s cuisine and pleased when visitors show an interest in it.

We win on all fronts

- Tuna seared rare with a cocoa-chili crust.
- Octopus stewed in a Creole style with fresh tomatoes, peppers, and thyme.
- Thick, creamy callaloo served as a soup or a side dish with rice.
- Provision – yams, sweet potatoes, green plantains, breadfruit – cooked in coconut milk with fresh herbs.
- Mango-pineapple gazpacho.
- Buttery avocado salad.
- Grilled mahi-mahi drizzled with a passion-fruit and ginger sauce.
- Lentils with sweet pumpkin.

By creating dishes based on fresh, local, seasonal ingredients (and adapting old favorite recipes to include them), we eat extremely well on Receta – in terms of both taste and a healthy diet. (These recipes, and many more, are included in my new book, The Spice Necklace: My Adventures in Caribbean Cooking, Eating, and Island Life; see below.)

These greens I’m buying in the Port of Spain, Trinidad, market are called spinach, but they’re from a different plant – and are more strongly flavored – than the Popeye variety we ate back home. Slightly bitter and smoky tasting, they’re wonderful sauteed with garlic and ginger. (Photo: Steve Manley)

“Cooking local” also helps the cruising kitty: Foods that don’t have to be shipped in from elsewhere and that are plentiful because they’re in season are invariably less expensive. A locavore style of eating offers a big helping of environment friendliness, too.

But beyond these benefits, my interest in learning to cook as the locals do also gets us involved in island life. It’s a starting point for adventures that inevitably lead us off the beaten tourist and cruiser path. What better excuse to get off the boat and explore an island than going in search of great food?

Our interest in food turns strangers into friends, and connects the dots between people and their history, culture, and traditions

In Trinidad, “Sweet-Hand Pat” let me look over her shoulder as she cooked in her small restaurant kitchen, and a friendship blossomed.(The crabs are destined for the popular Trinbagonian dish, curry crab and dumplins’.) (Photo: Steve Manley)

With food as our starting point, we tracked wild-oregano-eating goats into the cactus-covered hills at the northwest edge of the Dominican Republic, and tasted for ourselves that their meat comes to the kitchen preseasoned.

We joined a seamoss (seaweed) farmer in St. Lucia as she harvested her crop and turned it into potent “island Viagra.”  We made searing-hot pepper sauce in a Trinidadian kitchen – and got an impromptu dance lesson at the same time.

In the mountains of Dominica, we hunted freshwater crayfish at night (their tails rival those of small lobsters) and sipped moonshine out of hidden back-country stills. And at the University of the West Indies in Trinidad, we crammed for a chocolate-tasting test. (It was hard work. Honest.)

There’s no question that my passion for cooking has added a whole different – and unexpected – dimension to liveaboard life and broadened our cruising experience. And it was no surprise that food played a starring role when I started writing about our travels on Receta, first in An Embarrassment of Mangoes: A Caribbean Interlude.

Reciprocating helps launch a friendship

Our fisherman friends Dwight and Stevie keep RECETA well supplied with seafood when we’re anchored off Grenada’s Hog Island. In return, I try to keep them supplied with fresh baking and other goodies from my galley. (Photo: Steve Manley)

When we were first anchored in Grenada, a stranger gave us a bag of mangoes when she caught us admiring her tree. I baked her a pan of brownies to say thank you – which gave us an excuse to meet again, and started a now decade-long friendship.

If someone gives us a gift from their garden or fish from their catch, we try to say thanks with something homemade from the galley; if someone lets us peek over her shoulder while she cooks or invites us to share a meal, we try to follow-up with an invitation to Receta. Along the way, casual acquaintances turn into something more.

While I was back home in Toronto last fall, I called a friend in Trinidad to catch up – we had first met several years ago when I invaded her small restaurant kitchen to watch her cook – and told her I was preparing a couple of her recipes for a Canadian dinner party. “But, honey,” she said, “I just made two of your recipes for my husband’s birthday.” Food and friendship are a two-way street.

Ann’s 11 Tips
for Shopping in Island Markets

A mid-market refresher: coconut water straight from the shell. I also bring a leakproof bottle with me for the vendor to fill, so we can enjoy cold coconut water back on the boat, too. (Photo: Steve Manley)

1. Each time you go to market, look for at least one new-to-you item to buy.

This gives you a “market mission”, a reason to ask questions – and, of course, it expands your galley repertoire. Since buying locally grown seasonal food is cheaper than trying to replicate the meals you ate back home, it’s an inexpensive experiment if you hit the occasional dish you really don’t like.

2. Substitute island ingredients for North American ones in recipes you already know and enjoy.

Try cooking callaloo instead of spinach, bodi beans instead of string beans, pumpkin instead of squash, West Indian sweet potatoes instead of white potatoes. Make your favorite beef stew with goat, and an apple crisp with mangoes. Season with sive (West Indian chives) instead of green onions, chadon beni (culantro) instead of cilantro, and seasoning peppers instead of bell peppers.

3.  Ask the market vendors questions such as:

• “What do you call this [fruit, vegetable, fish]?” Even if you think you know the name, it’s worth asking the question: You may learn a local/regional variant.
• “How do I know when this [fruit, vegetable] is ready to use?” Asking “How do I know when it’s ripe?” can be tricky, as some produce is used in both ripe and unripe stages.
• “How do I prepare this?” Even better, ask “How do you serve it to your family?”

4. Have a pad and pen along, so you can jot down the details.

5. It’s easier to engage vendors in conversation on quieter days

Though the bustle and profusion of the week’s main market day (usually Friday or Saturday) make it fascinating and fun, it’s easier to engage vendors in conversation on quieter days, when they’re not quite so busy making sales.

6. Include the following in your going-to-market kit:

• sturdy carry bags, especially ones you can sling over your shoulder, leaving your hands free
• an insulated thermal bag (essential if you’re buying fish or other perishables, but even delicate greens and herbs profit from being kept cool)
• a plastic container with a secure locking lid and/or large zipper-type plastic bags (to decrease the odds of leakage when you’re bringing fresh fish, shrimp, or other seafood back to the boat)
• if eggs are on your shopping list, a closed plastic camping-style egg keeper. (Have you ever tried to transport eggs in a plastic bag, as they’re sometimes sold in island markets?)
• I often bring along a leakproof bottle, too, so if I come across someone selling fresh coconut water or fruit juice, I can leap on the opportunity.

7. Carry an assortment of small bills and change
to make doing business in the market easier.

8. Don’t be afraid to try hole-in-the-wall restaurants, small food stalls, and street food. (Size and sophistication are no guarantee of quality, hygiene, or food safety.) Follow your nose – if the cooking smells delicious, it probably is. A lineup of local people waiting for food is also a good sign.

9. Ask residents for recommendations.

But to avoid being sent to an establishment that a local thinks foreigners would like – usually, the typical popular tourist place – try phrasing the question this way: “Where do YOU go for breakfast/lunch/dinner?” If you’re looking for a more elaborate eating place, try asking, “Where would you take your mother for her birthday?”

10. Carry a small bottle of hand sanitizer in your backpack or bag.

You never know when you’re going to stumble on something delicious, and it’s good practice to clean your hands before you “take a taste.”

11. Ask before taking photos.

If you get permission, and if you have a printer onboard, print one or two of the good shots and give copies to your subjects. We’ve found this is a great way to break the ice.

About Ann Vanderhoof

Ann Vanderhoof is currently cruising the Eastern Caribbean with her husband Steve Manley.

Her new book, The Spice Necklace: My Adventures in Caribbean Cooking, Eating, and Island Life, was published in Canada in January and will be released in the USA on June 23, 2010. It recounts the couple’s adventures on Receta, as Ann follows her nose (and her tastebuds) from island to island, and it includes 71 recipes that grow out of the stories she tells.

Ann’s first book, An Embarrassment of Mangoes: A Caribbean Interlude, was an Amazon Top Ten Book of the Year for Travel and a national bestseller in Canada.

You can read Ann’s blog, see Steve’s photos, follow their travels, and find additional tips and recipes on her website: www.spicenecklace.com

Related articles (on this website)

• Ann Vanderhoof’s advice on setting up your galley and cooking onboard
• Taking Passions Cruising (Admiral’s Angle column #41)
• Other Take Your Passion Cruising articles (complete list)

More info (external links)

• Ann Vanderhoof’s website: www.spicenecklace.com
• “The Spice Necklace” Facebook page
• Ann Vanderhoof’s interview on CNN (June 25, 2010):
  Escaping it all to sail the Caribbean

What’s your passion? Have you taken it cruising?

Let us know. Email kathy@forcruisers.com or leave a comment below.