Aleria Update 9

Following the Rum Line Across Martinique 14*26.241'N 60*53.306'W

Dear Friends,

*****

First, our hearts go out to the lovely people on the islands of Madeira.

Floods over last weekend took many lives and more people are still missing. The marina in Funchal, the capital, is buried under debris carried by the mudslides. Funchal is a beautiful city of which we have very fond memories. With time, we wish them a full recovery.

*****

As we start writing from our anchorage off the quaint village of Sainte Anne on Martinique, I am reminded of a trip my sister, Oksana, and I took ~35 years ago to the Club Med here amidst the palm trees on this beautiful beach. It looks rather sedate now. At the time, in the mid-70s, it was pretty wild. We were young and adventurous - she a young doctor and I a university student at NYU. While there, I was offered a job as cook aboard a visiting yacht that was heading to the Pacific.

Oksy wouldn't let me sail off with strangers, and I had a serious career planned already, so instead we dreamt about the possibilities. And here I am again, this time aboard Aleria. Oksana is no longer with us but memories like those live on.

We came to Martinique just in the nick of time as our wine supply acquired months ago in Portugal had somehow evaporated. Although, as expected, there is plenty of wine to choose from here, what surprised us was the selection of local rums. Not only different distilleries, proofs, colors and varieties, but in bottles of all shapes and sizes, boxes and kegs! In fact, the rum here is Appellation d'Origine Controlee. We had lots to learn. Rum tastings were required, so we settled in to make our choices. Some tasted like scotch and we learned they were aged in oak barrels. Others tasted like vodka, and we discovered highly distilled clean cane spirits. A few were so smooth they were perfect straight up neat or on ice. Others were harsher and were reserved for punches.

Now we had to invent proprietary rum punches. The bananas were turning black, the oranges we bought turned out to be limes and so was borne the Alerian - rum punch made with lime juice, blended with superripe bananas, topped off with crushed ice and a dash of cane syrup. Not only is it tasty, but it is also healthy. "There's eatin' and drinkin' in it," according to Alex, quoting Mick Chambers of Rossyvera back in Ireland. There is also a version made with ananas (pineapple) and another with pamplemousse (grapefruit). (We love those words.)

One thing for certain, Martinique is more French than Caribbean compared with the other islands we've visited so far. It is also far more populated. Few people speak English and there are very few cruisers here who are not French or French Canadian. So we practice our Francaise and enjoy the remarkable cuisine. Both French and Creole styles are cherished and every encounter is a gastronomic experience.

Decisions, decisions - so many to make every day: type of fresh bread to acquire at the boulangerie, swimming off the beach or boat, dinner ashore or bbq onboard, pick up anchor or stay another day. We thought about heading on to Fort de France, but it's just over 20 miles and the beach here deserved another swim. Maybe one more day.

But a rare southeasterly swell made Ste Anne untenable and it finally spurred us to move on to Les Trois Ilets, childhood home of the Empress Josephine Bonaparte.

Les Trois Ilets is a lovely little village directly across the bay from Fort de France, which is the largest city in the Windward islands. Where we are anchored is a snug hurricane hole surrounded by islets, mangroves and a golf course. It is magnificent and feels much like a lake in the Adirondacks, just a notch warmer and saltier.

It has been a strange weather week as the winds turned southeasterly and slackened, a rare occurence as they are almost always easterly or northeasterly this time of year. The humidity went up as did the temperature - to the high-90sF (35C). It is almost like summer - hazy, hot, humid. And although it has been overcast, it hasn't rained. Oh, for a bit of cool air! We (=Daria) have taken to carrying an umbrella as a parasol, as do many of the natives.

Another choice on the list of choices to make...take a tour of the wild mangroves or visit a cosmopolitan metropolis with one of the biggest malls outside the US. It was beastly hot so we opted on the ferry to Fort de France which runs every half hour from Le Bourg Des Trois Ilets.

We spent a day in the city scoping things out. It has seen better days.

But the market was wonderful and the people so very gentile. And we've never seen so many shoe stores in one place. Millions of styles of sandles, from inexpensive to diamond encrusted creations. Yes, Daria-Imelda scoured the stores and finally bought a pair, of black patent leather!

Today, we headed over to the air conditioned mall, provisioned, checked out at the local chandlery, then dropped anchor in the very first beach resort town on Martinique, Anse Mitan, for a swim and a final night on the island. Tomorrow we head north to wild Dominica where we expect to spend a couple of weeks. As Martinique is the last of the Windward Islands of the Lesser Antilles, we will henceforth be travelling the Leewards.

Meanwhile, we heard that 13 containers fell off a ship just off the coast of St Lucia. French authorities in Martinique make securite announcements on VHF with their current position daily. These are then transmitted via coconut telegraph SSB radio to all cruisers in the Caribbean. This is one of a cruiser's worst nightmares. Containers are like icebergs. You cannot see them until it's too late. We are glad to be heading in the opposite direction.

Our friend Bertrand wrote to tell us his mother's family had perished in the eruption of Pelee that buried Ste Pierre, the former capital of Martinique once called Paris of the Caribbean. There was only one survivor - a prisoner alive because the walls of the prison were thick enough to withstand a lava flow. All the ships in the harbor that day except one sank and remain in their resting ground to this day. Bertrand lives only because one son was studying on the continent. We will share a measure of AOC rum with the lost souls as we pass. May they rest in perpetual peace.

We hear there is another blizzard on the East Coast of the US, oh my!

Stay cool.

Bon soir a Martinique!

Daria + Alex + Onyx