>> Monday, March 12, 2012
GREETINGS FROM TRINIDAD
March 10, 2012
Dear Family and Friends,
Greetings from our Southern-most port stop of our voyage and the northern extent of the Andes, Trinidad. We are clearing out of customs this very moment to leave Trinidadian waters, so I need to keep it brief and just pass on a few tidbits.
Our last port stop to Carriacou was rather pleasant. During the first week of our semester voyage, we caught wind of the traditional boat building activity currently going on in Carriacou. We were inspired to meet the remaining Carriacou sloop builders face to face. Word was sent ahead that we were sailing their way, and upon our arrival to Windward, Carriacou, we were welcomed by the small boat building community with open arms. (See Zack’s posting about our visit for an account of our visit with the sloop builder, Alwin, for more details). We even were fortunate enough to go on a day sail on one of the working fishing sloops from Windward with the boat builder and captain, Uncle C. Carriacou was also a good place for us to focus on our academic coursework during heavy rains; explore the nearby coral reefs using our masks and fins; find ourselves in paradise on the secluded and postcard perfect Anse la Roche beach; and kayak through mangrove swamps in the Oyster Bay Marine Protected Area. Friday night we even had the opportunity in Tyrell Bay to socialize ashore and dance to live string band music.
Sunday morning we hauled back the anchor and got underway for Trinidad. By Tuesday we were on Port of Spain’s waterfront eating a variety of tasty West Indian food and drinking soursop smoothies at the well-known, “Breakfast Shed.” Since then, one thing has led to another and all of the sudden we must cut our ties to shore. In addition to eating delicious rotis and bakes, we have visited Hindu temples; watched hundreds of Scarlet Ibis’s roost in the mangroves of Caroni Swamp; hiked along a stunning stretch of Northern coast line in stands of Mora rain forests; partook in a special celebration of the Hindu celebration of color, Holi; joined in a steel pan band practice at a nearby Trinidadian pan-yard; spent a day at the Asa Wright Nature center; and enjoyed the waves, beach and bakes of Maracas Bay. Once again, people have generously shared their time, energy and life experiences with our group during our stay.
Student letters home were postmarked this morning. Hopefully you will receive these notes in your mail boxes in the near future to learn more details about some of these recent excursions listed above. We will post more pictures and words during our next port stop.
This upcoming passage will be the furthest of our trip so far and the students are also entering a new phase on watch standing: Junior Watch Officers.
We hope all is well with each of you and we will be in touch.
Best Regards,
Christine Simpson
STUDENT BLOG ENTRY: CARRIACOU SLOOPS
On our first day ashore in Carriacou, we had a nice tour of the island. We left from the pier and drove up one of the six major streets on the island (they were barely big enough for two cars to pass). Our driver pointed out the local furniture shop, which was an open building with a few big tools and stacks of lumber all around. Most of the lumber is mahogany, local to the island. Our driver then took us the highest point in Carriacou (it was only 945 feet above sea level), where we could see everything. There was a hospital there, which was built on a high point to blow away mosquitos during a malaria outbreak… The people in the hospital have a nice view.
We then went on a search for a man named Dave and found him walking down the road with his daughter. Dave took us down the road to see a local man, Alwin build a fishing boat. We heard about the boat builder from a photographer named Alexis Andrews in English Harbor. Alexis has been doing a movie project about the Carricou sloops to record and pass on the knowledge of the few remaining boat builders in the area. When the bus stopped next to two rickety houses, I couldn’t figure out why. Then I saw it: two logs spread out on the lawn and the frame of a small sloop. I love boat building, and I know a lot about it, so I was excited. Dave introduced us to Alwin, a kind man in his fifties. He got into boat building after a fishing boat he was working on sank. He was one of the only survivors. This chilling experience lead him to boat building; he wanted to understand how boats work and make them more seaworthy. Alwin showed us the project which will take him about six to eight months of finish, working alone. This amazed me because he only used a chisel, clamp, chainsaw, straight edge and hammer. Even with these tools, the work looked perfect. He used local wood: white heart for the keel and white cedar for the frame, but imported the wood for planks from another island. We didn’t want to hold him up longer, so we left and spent the rest of the day at the most beautiful beach I’ve ever seen.
Zack
Newburyport, MA
Read more...Two Offshore Passages of Note
>> Saturday, March 3, 2012
The straight line distance on both routes is about 100 miles, but on the run from Dominica, Gamage logged better than twice that. After a good deal of time in port, students needed to regain their sea legs. What a better way to do so than a beat to winward and a long reach to the next port? And so after sailing off Roseau's anchorage, Gamage could be found beating through the Dominica Channel east bound against the Trades for the wide Atlantic Ocean to windward of Martinique. To ensure the weather gage of Martinque outer reefs was gained, the beat back and forth to windward continued through the night and into teh following afternoon. Student navigators had ample opportunity to practice newly acquired plotting and ded reckoning skills. As wind and sea were on the make, a reef was tucked just before dark and then commenced a swashbuckling, all night ride down the windward sides of both Martinique and St Lucia. Dawn of the second day saw Gamage romping close along St Lucia's southern coast by the imposing Pitons soon after coming to anchor with stern lines made off to coco palms near tranquil Soufriere.
Departing in the late afternoon from St. Lucia, Gamage, as is her custom, again sailed off the anchor. After a day of arduous hiking to among other places than the peak of hte Gros Piton, the crew was weary though no less able. On clearing St. Lucia's lee Gamage was off on another wild ride. The wind had freshened and backed well north of east providing an easy opportunity to weather St Vincent and a near downwind run in +25 knots of wind and a frolicsome 8-10 foot sea. Dawn the next day say Gamage booming past Bequia to starboard then Canouan to port through the northern Grenadines. Just before sailing into Carriacou, Gamage hove to for a traditional Ocean Classroom celebration, the Dead Horse Ceremony.
On longer OC voyages, the point at which students are no longer considered "green" hands, that is acknowledges as apprentice crew in fact, is noted. On this occasion the day marked a month into the program and the mile stone of better than 1000 nautical miles so far sailed as logged during the previous night's mid watch. All hands gathered on the quarterdeck around the "dead horse," an artful construct of cardboard boxes complete with tail and ears. Everyone was invited to write on a scrap of paper some thing or feeling that was wished off the ship. The scraps were then given to the dead horse to hold inside. A short congratulatory speech made mention of the fact that on this passage no one had (for the first time) communed with Neptune via mal de mer. Everyone's sea legs were indeed being gained! Then came the traditional "Poor Old Horse" chantey ably lead by song master, Second Mate Simpson, with everyone joining in the chorus. With the final verse, "We'll sink him down with a long, long roll; Where the sharks'll have his body, an' the devil take his soul" and the chorus, "Oh we hope so, an' we say so," the horse and his cargo of notes was heaved over the side. Gamage then promptly got underway to come flying in to the Hillsboro Bay anchorage, round up head to wind, and let go the anchor off the town pier with flags proudly snapping in the breeze.
Captain JB Smith
Aboard Schooner Harvey Gamage, February 28, 2012
Hillsboro Anchorage, Carriacou, Southern Grenadine
STUDENT ENTRY
>> Friday, March 2, 2012
Curled up on the settee, enjoying the warmth of the main salon, and the stableness of the quarterdeck area, I find it hard to believe that a couple of hours ago I was fully submerged.
I've been having a busy day. We sailed out of Roseau, Dominica at 1300 and I was 'in charge' of setting the sails. I saw 'in charge' loosely because I did little more than echo the mates. Somehow we managed to get the sails up, and despite a rather fouled anchor, we sailed off the hook out of Roseau.
Fast forawrd and B-watch is at the headsails. Captain Smith ordered the striking of the outer jib, and I was feeling particularly happy because Jander and I were going to gasket the sail. A sea stow, or "get it in some resemblence of a furl before something goes wrong" stow, is the quick tying down a sail while underway, usually in less-than-perfect conditions. Today there were no raging white caps or blinding sheets of rain, and I really didn't think we were going to have a problem getting the sail stowed quickly. But, as I should have learned by now, predictability does not exist when sailing.
Things started out nicely; Jander ungasketed the sail tie and we pulled the miter over the folds. I was leaning over the bowsprit, one hand reaching for the sail tie, the other holding the canvas folds tight, and then... I was underwater.
It's the strangest sensation. You're elevated above the ocean on a vessel moving at about 5 knots, going against the waves. When the ship rides down into the gully of a swell, and then up over a crest, it gives the same butterfly sensation that driving over hills does. When the swells are deep enough your feet or legs will dunk in the water. This is why I take any opportunity to gasket, ungaskset, furl, stow, or check for chafe. The headrig makes every carnival ride seem pointless and unexciting. Despite the enjoyment I derive from spening time on the headrig, I realize that there is a reason for the seemingly excessive safety procedures required to go out. There is a reason we wear harnesses, that we have to check with a mate before and after laying on the headrig, and that we have to keep three points of contact at all times. When you're thrown under a six foot swell out there, you are thrown under six feet of ocean. One mintue you're standing in the air, the next you're looking at a wall of blue and white foam. My legs were pulled aft; my face was shoved into the headrig netting. I could literally feel my harness pulling me upwards, keeping me away from the hull of the ship. And as quickly as it came, it was gone. We were back above the sea, soaked, but still on the headrig. I remember turning, meeting Janders eyes, and seeing what could only have been reflected in my eyes: astonishment, surprise, adrenaline, and the unmistable twinkle that results from doing something increidbly fun.
It wasn't until after we finished the furl and were back on deck that I realized I was shaking. I was also smiling. Like I said before, you really cannot predict what is going to happen while sailing.
Libby
Brunswick, Maine
STUDENT ENTRY
Welcome to Dominica (pronounced DOE-MAN-EEK-AH), a small island filled with nature and adventure. Home to Octavius Lugay (a.k.a Sea Cat), our tour guide who seemed to know everyone on the island, a very popular Saturday market, and of course, JB's smoothie stand, where JB, a local smoothie extraordinaire, will give you the best smoothie you've ever had. We were able to go to all of these things (maybe some of us went to JB's more than once...), and do so much more.
Dominica has a well-defined culture. I suppose this applies to each island we have visited, and it is a good thing for those back home to know: it's never just 'the Caribbean.' Each and every island, no matter how small, is unique from the others. As a local man said to a passerby, "Smile- Dominica is a happy island." I could not agree more with this statement. We were all able to experience the happiness of the island like other tourists can't. It was an eye opening experience.
My favorite part of our stay in Dominica was Carnival. It was the best celebration I've ever been to. We danced to calypso (a type of music popular in the Caribbean), ate soursop ice cream, and watched the parade of feathered dancers fly by. Nobody stays inside for Carnival- everyone is out on the streets. A crowd: mothers with children in matching sparkles waiting for family members to dance by, grandmas in traditional clothing, teenagers with friends, dreaded 'rastas' standing by, their usual 'chill' attitude diminished by the exhilaration of the moment. Vendors selling goods, coconuts, fresh fruit, chicken, rice and fish, lined the streets. Distant shouts in Creole and English could be heard over the music, which was so loud I felt it in my heart. Huge, sparkly, feathered costumes with people doing the classic Dominican shuffle step (called chipping) slowly went by. Barbeques happening on the sidewalks, people taking pictures of us, news men interviewing us, calypso enveloping us, and just having fun- 'cuz your only at Carnival once, right? I hope not.
Elizabeth
Camden, Maine
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