Martinique

We spent three months and chance in the Mediterranean and didn't sniff France, but here in the Caribbean, we found ourselves hoisting the French flag on the starboard halyard. As it turns out, Martinique is a part of France, just like Hawaii is part of the US.

We checked in to Martinique on May 15. I stayed aboard to work, but the report was that Les Anses-d'Arlet was a nice little town. Rosie and I went ashore the next morning, and found that to be true. There's not much to it, but what there is is nice.

We didn't do much in Les Anses, or in Martinique generally. After a full day and two nights in that bay, we sailed north along the eastern coast, and we found a little bay to anchor in. Our first choice was near a town with a chandlery (we broke the connector to the gas tank in our dinghy), but we motored around potential anchoring spots, but they just didn't check all of the boxes for comfort and safety.

We ended up rounding a point and finding a more sheltered spot. It turned out that there was some good snorkeling right there, and i really should have a page of fish and coral to show you, but I didn't take the camera with me on my swim. That evening, sailboat Ella dropped anchor near the coral, and skipper Rob swam over to say hi to the first English speakers he had encountered in a bit. We ended up moving aboard for cocktails, which led to actual story-swapping with other adults for the first time in months. It also led to a fixed gas line, as Rob is something of a McGyver.

The next day, we sailed some more and stopped at Saint-Pierre. We took a mooring ball near Benevah, a Texas-flagged catamaran. Ella followed us over, and the three crews wore out our English-speaking welcome at the closest beach bar.

We really didn't go inland at all. And like I mentioned at the top, we didn't do much that was specific to Martinique, other than be treated rudely for our poor attempts to communicate in French. But it was a fun return to a social life, however briefly it lasted.

Rosie's first step on land in almost a month. Every boat in the Carribean seems to have a dog who is not allowed to get off of its vessel.

Les Anses-d'Arlet

Saint Pierre