28 February 1999
Island of Saba (Netherlands Antilles)
When last heard from, we were thrashing our way upwind toward Dominica, pronounced Domin-ee-ka, accent on the 3rd syllable, as if it were the French name Dominique. This is a small island of about 70,000 mostly English-speaking people located just north of Martinique, and often confused with the much larger spanish-speaking Dominican Republic, to which much of their mail is mistakenly sent.
We anchored in front of the Anchorage Hotel just south of the capital of Roseau. Our friends Bill and Felicity from Maine arrived at the hotel the next day to spend a week exploring the island with us. The hotel dock was especially helpful for getting ashore by dinghy, as there is nothing like a marina or town dock, or even a harbor for that matter, and the steep rock beach gets pretty heavily pounded with surf despite being on the protected west side of the island. While there, we had a 2-day northerly blow, which brought a large swell to the anchorage, and 2 boats went ashore while their owners were off carousing at Carnival. One, a local fishing boat, we bailed out and hauled out to another mooring. The other, a swedish sailboat, we hauled off and then spent the afternoon diving to retrieve their anchors. No shortage of entertainment. Fortunately, our primary insurance policy did its job: we had out two big plow anchors with oversized chain, well dug-in to the sand; the harder it blew, the deeper they dug, although we did have a couple of rolly, noisy nights aboard.
Dominica bills itself as "The Nature Island", having more or less repeatedly failed in a series of economic development ventures. Aside from ecotourism, the carefully protected sale of bananas to England is currently their only major source of income, and even that trade is about to get crushed in the maw of the NAFTA/EEC banana wars.
So, it is a poor place, happy to have visitors come and dive its spectacular reefs and hike in its rain forest, and spend some money, especially US dollars. The high unemployment rate also leads to some aggressive entrepreneurial behavior on the part of many young men, who push their services as trail guides and "boat boys", unpleasant at times. We also had the good fortune to arrive during Carnival Week, which was crazy: my ears are still ringing. Hopefully Shifra or Joel will write more about that, especially the wild "Jump-up" with moving street bands. After two warm up hikes to Trafalgar Falls and Middleham Falls, we bit off a big all-day hike to the Valley of Desolation and the Boiling Lake. The way there was through rain forest, and the trail went at least as far vertically as it did horizontally, or so it seemed to our aching knees. Our destination was a very thermally active area, with bubbling hot sulfur springs, hot streams with water of various hues (orange, yellow, black, white), and a steaming, bubbling lake about 1/4 mile in diameter. The water was white, with a large active spring in the center, and we were told that the temperature was well above 212 degrees fahrenheit. We did not get a chance to actually test this for ourselves, as the walls were vertical 50' cliffs, but it did steam convincingly. Bill got lots of video footage to quiet the skeptics at home. Underwater, the place was equally impressive. Almost every dive had some area with gas bubbles venting from the rock, like champagne. And one dive, actually called Champagne, had hot fresh water rising from thermal vents along with the bubbles. We saw our first sea horses, and on one night dive we saw octopi, large crabs, many lobsters and a variety of odd creatures like slipper lobsters, many of which were new to us. Bill and Felicity brought mail and care packages from home, along with some essential boat supplies, not to mention a nice boost to our spirits. We are all feeling a little homesick at this point. We did two more dives after they flew home, then headed north again.
An uneventful 180-mile overnight sail brought us to the Dutch island of Saba on february 24th. We arrived at sunset, during a rainsquall, with a blaze of rainbows over the island, which was already spectacular enough on its own. It is a tiny, steep volcano rising abruptly out of the sea and reaching up to a permanent cloud cap and tiny rain forest at 3000 feet. Total population is only 1200 people, mostly in 4 absurdly neat, charming little villages perched high above the sea. Until very recently, it was only accessible by landing on a very exposed beach and climbing up 524 steps in the cliff. That the place was settled at all is a mystery. Now there is a breakwater with a harbor big enough for a few dive boats and the occasional tiny freighter, as well as a tiny airport, so it is a little easier to come and go.
There are no hotels, just small guest houses for intrepid tourists who want to dive and hike in a very out-of-the-way place. (note the heavy emphasis on the diminutives) Oh, and a tiny medical school, of all things. We came here because a dive park had been made, with buoyed dive sites, trail maps, and shops willing to fill tanks for independent divers like ourselves who wanted to explore on their own, at their own pace, as in Bonaire. They even put out moorings for visiting boats. A paradise, we thought. NOT! They just banned independent diving, ostensibly to protect the reef, but more likely to protect the dive shops, in our opinion. So our only option was to dive with a dive shop, at $50 a pop (vs. $5 for a tank refill). Needless to say, we did more hiking and snorkeling than planned, both of which were fantastic. We did do a few dives, having come all this way, and the underwater topography was dramatic: pinnacles rising straight up from the abyss, tunnels, walls and such. Compared to Dominica and Tobago, the differences in marine life were more subtle: more of the fish are at the upper limits of size, like 4-5 foot long moray eels, and 4-foot barracudas, which are a little disconcerting when they glide up beside you and look you over with those cold, predatory eyes. Nurse sharks were promised, but none showed up for us. Lots of sea turtles, and very large, healthy corals.
We are sailing again, on a fine, sunny day with a following breeze. St. Maarten, Saba, Statia, St. Kitts and Nevis are all showing off their respective volcanic peaks along the horizon. Bonaire is 450 miles to the southwest, 3-4 days sailing if all goes well.
MR