Leo Kenny discovers another side of the Caribbean with a delivery trip from Martinique to the Panama Canal
It was early April when I stepped aboard Kokomo, a Leopard 47 catamaran that I was to call home for the next few months. The big plan was to sail from Martinique through the Panama Canal to the Galapagos, before undertaking the 6,000nm hike across the Pacific to Marquesas. Then, through the Toumataos and French Polynesia in July, New Caledonia in August, and down to Sydney.
My skipper Hosso and I had already moved Kokomoko from New York to Martinique and she was waiting where I had left her four months earlier in Le Marin Bay. When Covid dented Hosso’s charter plans. It would be a crew of three; Hosso, myself and an old friend, Boomer. Both lovely guys but I was somewhat dismayed that both were vegetarians.
Back in the Caribbean for the fourth time in just a couple of years, I inhaled the balmy Caribbean air. It felt like I had just gone ashore for stores. Hosso met us at our favourite Le Marin restaurant, Indigo. As we sped out to Kokomoko in the bay, the need for provisioning and hull cleaning, brought us back to earth.
Carrefour Le Marin was always going to be a disappointment provisioning for two vegetarians. I was thankful they ate fish! No rum this leg but some good French Bourgogne. After breakfast we pulled up the pick and shifted to St Anne’s to scrub our hulls; fewer yachts, less effluent. Exhausted in too much current, we gave up, and with a 15kt wind on our tail, headed west.
We decided to stop again in a small crystal-clear bay on the western side of Martinique to finish the barnacle scraping, A bottle of Cote de Rhône and spaghetti pomodoro Al gambas warranted an overnight stay. A wonderful sunset prompted Boomer and I to serenade the fish who had gathered for the barnacle feast. We hadn’t played music together for 20 years and never on ukuleles. We reverted to our old favourites: Neil Young’s Four Strong Winds; Tom Waits’ Jersey Girl and, (almost) appropriately, Belafonte’s Jamaican Farewell.
Westward ho
Next morning, I downloaded five days of weather forecast on Predict Wind Offshore, along the rhumb line we would follow to Aruba. With 20kts on our tail, we hoisted a jib and a genoa and made 6-8kts westwards. An hour after sunset, the full moon in all its brilliance said, “Welcome back Leo. Stay safe little fishes.” I put out the line. The boys were still smiling at 2200 until the wind came up and we decided to take down the cruising chute, which we probably should have done before dark. Rigged
