Sailing the Grenadines - How this Sailing Stuff Got Started

Somehow, this doesn't look - or feel - like France. 

It's not.

But this is kind of where it all started.

We're sailing in the Tobago Cays. 

The Grenadines. Again.

Tiny islands. Amazing colors. 

Sea turtles. Eagle rays. Dolphins. 

A trail of starfish leads us back to the boat underwater after a snorkeling expedition. 

 We find a sailboat, a 57' catamaran, that needs another couple on it. 

We volunteer. 

With Isabelle, the French chef, and Frédéric, the captain. 

We don't even have to do the sailing - or the cooking - ourselves. 

Three others, a couple from England and one Swiss fellow, complete our crew.

It's very windy - 25 knots - but oh, the colors of the water!

We visit Carriacou. Saltwhistle Bay, Mayreau. Mopion. Union Island. Eat lobster on Petit Bateau. 

Petit Tabac. Petit St. Vincent. Everything very "petit". 

Between my feet and that white beach are sea turtles. And fat starfish.

 After a sandy salty week, we return to our rented house in Grenada.

We've been here over a month.

Feels almost like home by now. 

Grenada. 

We'd been here before. 

Spice Islands.
Near the end of the chain of Caribbean islands. 

Closer to Venezuela than to Miami.  

Originally, a few years back, we thought we'd wind up buying and living on a sailboat. 

Two years ago, here in the Caribbean, we began seriously learning about boats. 

We read. Practiced knots. Took training courses.

We passed numerous exams, and got our licenses for bareboat chartering and coastal cruising, inland waterways, monohull, catamarans, navigation, and probably a couple of others. 

We hold licenses from the UK, the US, from Ireland, France, and from the EU. 

Countless books and hours of work. 

-Not that it really meant we knew what we were doing - by any means. 

We spent time on boats in Thailand, in Greece, in France, in Myanmar, in Laos, Indonesia, and all over the Caribbean.  I counted 50 islands we'd visited in the Caribbean alone! 

(See where Grenada is on my map? WAY south.)

But: At one point, we realized that - living on a sailboat, even a catamaran, isn't for us. 

Plus,  the idea of dealing with hurricane season - that just made the decision easier. 

So we began to look at canal boats in Europe. 

We considered over 500 boats (!), mostly online. 

Once in France, we inspected 30 boats from the inside, (here's THAT story) and eliminated another 30 from the outside. 

I made spreadsheets.
And lists.

And - you know the rest of the story.

When I was a kid, we lived in the Virgin Islands. 

Once, I was invited to a friend's birthday party on her parents' boat. 

I was probably in first grade. 

I remember being SO impressed! 

That memory has stuck with me over the years. 

I don't think I could swim yet, but man, I wanted to jump off that boat with the other kids. 

So I did. Jumped off the boat (still a favorite thing to do-) and started swimming. 

Yep. That's when it all started.

African Monkey Business

View on website.

Once, when I was working for Pan Am in Liberia, in the west of Africa, 

we lost a monkey in an airplane.

Staff party at the Director's house. Pan Am Robertsfield team. My boss, Mr. Kassimu, bottom left.
Hassan next to me, and King next to Kassimu. Catering chef in white.

We found the cage. 

It was empty. 

We took that plane apart - but - never found the monkey.

Between searches for missing monkeys. 

For years afterwards, if things went wrong at the airfield, we blamed it on that missing monkey:

"Missing supplies? Probably that monkey." 

"No radio contact? Monkey probably ate through the wires."  

The monkey was easy to blame. 

Everyone saved face.

There was a small zoo in Monrovia, the capital and main city of Liberia. 

There were pygmy hippos, snakes, ant bears, parrots - and 3 mischievous chimps. 

Pygmy hippos are awfully cute. Young ones about knee-high!

One day, one of the chimps got out of his cage. 

He began running through the small zoo, opening cages and letting the other animals out. 

He was all excited, having a great ol' time.

You can see the chimp, up on the top of the cage.

As the chimp approached the leopard cage, we all held our breath. 

But chimps aren't stupid. 

He didn't open THAT cage. 

Instead, he jumped up on the top of the enclosure. 

He just - walked around, driving the leopard inside crazy. 

These days, with covid, those episodes come to mind. 

Sometimes, things are just not entirely within our control. 

Once we understand that - it makes things easier.

Drawn by Erik Rempen

How to deal with a virus? 

Lockdowns? Schools closed? 

What about visits to old people? 

Mental health issues? 

Travel restrictions? 

Who knows?

Chiles are used in India to ward off djinns - wonder if they work on a virus?

Sometimes there aren't any real good answers.

Analog tools. Good for lockdowns. 

Our job right now? 

Staying in good spirits for those around us. 

And - the third African monkey story: 

We were sailing our small catamaran 

(possibly the ONLY catamaran in the entire country of Liberia at the time) 

in a lagoon near a place called Monkey Island. 

So involved, we didn't realize we were standing amid dozens of sting rays.

We were watching the flocks of birds. Underfoot, dozens of sting rays. 

On one pass, sailing near the island, the boat got stuck on a sand bar. 

Stopped. 

The chimps - big ones this time - began to wade into the water and head for our boat. 

VERY scary. Yikes. 

Dealing with monkeys - is ALWAYS trouble. 

You never know WHAT they'll do.

Kind of like djinns. 

Maybe - a virus, too.

When dealing with monkeys - or viruses -  the best response: A small glass of French wine. Maybe two.

The Vanishing Sea Gypsies - Myeik (Mergui) Archipelago

Sea gypsies! 

What a great name. 

Myanmar sea gypsies, who call themselves "Moken", live on boats.

They're easy to spot - they travel with one bigger boat, called Moken Kabang.

And a bunch of little boats, called Moken Sabang.

The harbor of Ma Kyone Galet, with Moken boats. One of the few places on land where they come.

The Myanmar government is trying to get the Moken to settle on land.
Send their kids to school, probably pay taxes, be counted. 

But the sea around the Mergui Archipelago is still host to dozens of wooden "Moken" boats. 

They live their own lifestyle, on the water, in their own handmade boats. 

Speak their own languages. 

Some of the last sea gypsies in the world.

Moken Sabang - the little boats.

When the Moken saw our boat...

this woman and her son paddled over to trade fish for rice and fruit.

She had the fish, we gave them rice and fruit. 

There aren't many boats out here.
Only Moken - and the squid fishermen.

Myanmar squid fishing boats have a very definite look. A bit strange to us. 

- Squid fishing!

The lights on the "arms" light up at night to attract the squid. 

However, the strings of electric wiring look VERY sketchy.

The blue tubs are to separate the different types of fish. 

Then they're transferred to a larger boat, which takes the catch to the port town. 

So these boats might not return to port for a long while. 

This is a BIG archipelago, and we only traveled the southern part.

Fishing traps - handmade on one of the beaches.

Several times, we traded beers for squid.

4 cold beers for a whole BUCKET of fresh squid and fish!

Erik with a variety of crabs, fish, and squid. For 4 beers.

The Myeik Archipelago is off the coast of Myanmar. 

There are about 800 islands. 

Only a handful are inhabited. 

You can't visit the islands. 

Not unless you're on a liveaboard boat. 

There are no hotels, no guesthouses, no ferries. 

No stores, no place to buy provisions. 

We brought everything we needed with us. 

However, we fished - successfully - and enjoyed fresh wahoo sushi 30 minutes later!

Irish Captain Brian and a tasty wahoo.

Erik making wahoo sushi.

At night, the Moken link their boats together. 

They hang out, eat, tell stories.

Things people do when they live on boats. 

We could hear the sounds of their voices from our boat. 

Sometimes music.

They were curious about us, and very friendly. 

When they took off in the mornings, they'd circle our boat for a closer look and wave. 

-Guess we look as strange to them as they do to us.

Wonder what the Moken thought of this mode of transport-?

We visited the Moken village of Ma Kyone Galet, and the kids were pretty excited to see us. 

They're learning Burmese (not their native language) and English. 

We were definitely a "happening" at this school!

Erik - with tanaka - tries to include the shy kids in the photo, too.

These girls are Myanmar, not Moken. 

They were temporarily in Ma Kyone Galet for an exchange program.

They were genuinely surprised to find we didn't know what "tanaka" is. 

It's a paste made from a tree bark they all use for protection against the sun. 

They had fun putting it on Erik.

We were introduced to everyone. 

This old woman, they told us, is 120 years old! 

And her friend, a sprightly 90 year old. 

The young girl is wearing tanaka.

When you're 120, you can wear what you please.

We took paddle boards and kayaks up a mangrove-filled river at dusk.

Saw sting rays and hornbills. 

It was about sunset, and very loud. 

Sounded like monkeys.

Luckily - the sound came from birds and a cicada-like insect. 

Good. 

I'd hate to run into monkeys with nothing but a paddleboard.

If you look closely, there's a fresh waterfall on the beach. 

While snorkeling, we discovered a large sea snake, violet and black vertical stripes. 

 As the snake became interested in us - a speedy getaway was in order.

That night, I read that Myanmar is home to more types of venomous snakes - than anywhere else in the world.

Stan, Trish and Erik, who joined us from his home in Bangkok.

The feeling of being so far away from civilization was overwhelming. 

We showered under fresh waterfalls on deserted islands. 

Snorkeled, swam, read, watched stars.

No one around but fishing boats and sea gypsies. 

Sea gypsies! 

Indeed.

Beach BBQ with fresh fish. And wine. Our catamaran in the distance.

Zoe III - "home" for us in Myeik. 

It is hopelessly beautiful and impossibly romantic.

Thank you to all who made it possible....!

Sailing the Greek Islands - Santorini

Sailing the Cyclades

Stan and I join 8 others on a 15m Beneteau sailboat in Santorini.

We head out into the blue waters of the Aegean. 

Strangely, our skipper, Dean, we knew from the British Virgin Islands. 

He works summers in Europe - and winters in the Caribbean.

The others we don't know yet.

They don't know each other, either. 

Yes, most everyone is much younger than we are. 

As usual. 

But - it winds up being a great bunch.

This summer, the Greek economy is on the brink of disaster. 

No one accepts credit cards. Cash only.
ATM withdrawals are severely limited.

And only possible for foreigners.

There's an atmosphere of uncertainty.

With the boat, sometimes - we anchor.

More often, we pull into a marina.

We bring the boat in stern first, which is new for us.

It's high season on the Greek Islands.

On some days, we have to wait until a space opens up. 





Usually, I prefer the freedom of being at anchor.  It's quiet.

But being in port is handier for getting around the islands and exploring.





These days, there are probably more pleasure boats than working boats.
Tourism is a big deal here. 

Especially this summer, with the economic issues.

On our stops, we visit olive makers and distilleries.

Churches and ruins and monasteries. 

By local bus, boat - and mostly on foot.





Greek seafood. Greek cheese. Greek olives. 
We're always on the hunt for a decent bottle of Greek wine. 
(-a difficult quest-!)

The Greek islands are normally known for their fierce winds in late summer. 

However, when we arrive to go sailing, the wind dies completely. 

It's glassy clear and beautiful. 

But not sailing weather.

Plus, without the winds, it's hot. Very hot.

"The magic of the islands settled over us as gently and clingingly as pollen." - Gerald Durrell

We set sail from Santorini.

 To Ios - Amargos - Schinousa - Naxos
- to Mykonos - Despotiko - Sifnos
Folegandros (my favorite) and - back to Oia, Santorini.

The Cyclades.

After 10 days, dirty, sore and tired, we return to Santorini. 
Our Greek island sailing adventure is over.

I've always wanted to "sail the Greek islands"!
Channel my inner Ulysses...hunting for adventures.






Stan and I rent a place - a cave house (really!) just outside Oia, on Santorini.

Then - settle in for a week of unlimited electric power and running water.
On the grid. 

Unlike living on a boat.

The hills on these islands used to be fields of tomatoes, olives, grapes.

Now most of the water has been diverted to the hotels. 

It's VERY dry.

But it's still beautiful.

 The view is splendid. 

The temperature perfect. Quiet. 

A white cat is snuggled beside me, eyes closed. 

Neighbor women hanging out washing in the morning sun. 

Gorgeous sunsets, whitewashed walkways. 

Stan playing guitar. 

There's a nearby tavern for dinner. 

Outdoor tables. 

Low key and friendly. 

Or - we walk into Oia and shop for groceries. 

There are no cars in our part of the island.

The market woman has her son drive us home on our first day. 

"You have too much to carry!" she said. 

"My son will take you back. 

Finikia is not far." 

We do have a lot to carry. 
Water and wine, yogurt, pasta, cheese, olives - the usual.

But - I have NO idea what our "address" is! 

We just walked up tiny pathways. 

How to get to our house by car-? 

No idea! 

Tough times for the Greeks, but they're still friendly and welcoming to the many tourists who flock to the islands. It's easy to see why people have been coming here for so long.

It's dramatic and just so very thoroughly - Greek.

Other sailing adventures - on other seas:

The Grenadines - Again. And How this Sailing Stuff Started

Sailing the British Virgin Islands

And in Myanmar: 
Sailing with Sea Gypsies