Continuing the vacation tale, I present you with Christmas in the Cays…

The Tobago Cays

Come Wednesday morning, tired of the dragging anchor, we headed for the Tobago Cays – back out past Grand Col, and up towards the Baleine Rocks to get on the approach to the Cays.  There are several hazards on the approach to the Cays, though a keen eye can detect most of them given the clarity of the water in the area; it’s not unusual to be able to see sand 30 feet below the waves.  The wind was still kicking a good 20 – 25 knots as we came out of the lee of Mayreau, leading to some decent swells.  We eventually lined up the beacons on Petit Bateau and Petit Rameau, and proceeded into the cut between the two islands – again a keen eye is a necessity, as it’s very easy to take a turn a bit too sharply and find yourself stuck in place, on a reef.

Barbadian Flag, whipping in the wind

The Cays are now an official marine park (as is a large chunk of the Grenadines now – you can trawl between the islands, but no fishing beyond that), complete with Rangers and an entrance fee.  As far as we know, the entrance fee (and mooring fee if you moor rather than anchor) goes towards the upkeep of the area, and given the beauty of the islands, it’s well worth it.  All of the water taxis essentially wait in a taxi rank (anchored or idling engines), and as yachts come in, they act as guides over to a mooring – either one designed for monohulls or one designed for multi-hulls.  We managed to end up on a monohull one, but it was easy enough to rig a bridle-like setup.  We arranged for a few provisions with our guide, Victor, and settled down to admire the Cays.

We had expected the Cays to be rather quiet, hence we brought the Barbadian flag with us (and truth be told, it worked quite well all through the trip, giving us peace and quiet, and also providing us with an easy way to locate the cat), but there were about 25 – 30 yachts anchored and moored; though there was some rotation of yachts through the day.  Some time in the afternoon, one of the vendors came over, and enquired if we were interested in shirts, lobster etc.  We ended up purchasing some t-shirts from him, and on his say-so, arranged again for the provisions we’d want later on (and he turned out to be right, Victor didn’t show up again).

Squall

One of things you must realise about the Tobago Cays is that there is nothing between them and Africa but the Horseshoe Reef.  As such, when the wind decides to blow, it blows well.  As the day drifted by, the wind started to gust up towards 30 knots, and the sky to the east grew darker with rain clouds.  Squall lines started moving through, providing us with a good washing of the decks, and proof that the mooring was indeed, quite secure.

The engines were still throwing the occasional warning about the house batteries, but based on the assurance of the mechanic, we didn’t worry too much about it – after all, the engines had a dedicated starter battery that wasn’t indicating any charge issues at all.

Christmas Day rolled around and we found that the mechanic had been wrong about the battery warning, and the technical briefing had been wrong about how the starter motors on the engines were powered.   When we went to start the engines for the morning charge, we found that the starboard engine wouldn’t start; it would emit a rather loud click, much like a relay shunting in to place, and then silence.  We check the cabling (and tightened up a loose lead), checked the oil, transmission fluid, whether we could turn the engine by hand (which required Dad to get down in the engine compartment and hand-turn the shaft), and whether the prop would rotate with the transmission engaged.  We knew about the emergency parallel switch, but there’s a downside to doing that – on older engines/alternators, changing the load in such a drastic manner could cause the diodes in the alternator to blow, leaving you in an even worse position.  We left a message on the answering machine of the charter company, and went about our day.

Baradal

Mum and I went diving off of Baradal, in the turtle sanctuary.  We had a very pleasant surprise – a turtle sighting within 30 seconds of entering the water!  We both just floated there, and the turtle let us come within 3 or 4 feet; you could see it keeping an eye on us as it ate, but otherwise it was quite content with our presence.  It truly is a sight to behold; a turtle happily feeding on the sea grass, looking up at you once in a while as if to say ‘Yes, I’m eating breakfast, what do you want?’  I’m still wishing that I had the underwater enclosure for my D80 – some turtle pictures would have been quite nice.

After watching the turtle for 15 minutes or so, we started heading to the reef at the far end of Baradal, and played several games of ‘who can swim faster, us or the fish?’ with jacks and other fish.  While there were no Sergeant Majors around, there was a small blue fish that showed a brilliant flash of electric blue on the bottom fin when it banked around – quite spectacular.  After a while, we retreated to the shore, observed some human lobsters (seriously, if you’re that red in the sun, you shouldn’t be in the sun) who were probably going to be in pain that evening, and listened to a bird singing.

In the afternoon, we travelled out through the cut in the dinghy to take a look at what was underneath some rather tall masts (a large black yacht), and to map the course out in the lee of Petit Rameau using the GPS’s waypoint memory.  We then went diving on the leeward side of the barrier reef.  Unfortunately, there was a bit of current, and I am sadly out of shape, so I had to pack it in.  One of the rules Mum and I follow (most of the time at least) is buddy-diving, so  Dad and I drifted down-wind in the dinghy while Mum snorkeled back.  As we drifted back down, we watched several people criss-crossing the area on kite-powered boards – with 20 knot winds, they were getting some good jumps and aerial tricks done, though on many a landing they went face-first into the sea.

Night Falls in the Cays

We fiddled with the engine some more, and looked around for an engine manual, but none was to be found.  Some more consideration was given to the ‘emerg parallel’ switch, but we dared not throw it in case it blew the alternator on the working engine.  Christmas dinner was eaten by the light of an LED torch, which was quite pleasant.  We observed several of the local speedboats making runs in the dark, no lights on, to some of the yachts in the Cays – our only conclusion was that these boats were shifting drugs of some sort or another, as nary a light showed; either on the speedboat, or the yacht they stopped next to.