10/08/01 | Quick impressions of Trinidad

Trinidad is a big island, but so far we've hardly been out of the Chaguaramas harbor area. We've bought a couple of things in the chandleries, restocked our fridge, and gone out to a local mall. We've been socializing with some people we know, and doing a few "yachtie" activities like movie night at the Trinidad and Tobago Yacht Club (Tea with Mussolini, on an apparently pirated video which kept scrolling a "you are watching an illegal copy" message across the bottom of the TV screen), potlucks, and dominoes. If we were going to stay longer, we'd probably really get into the activities here. The food here is good, lots of influence from the ethnic East Indians who make up 40% of the population (another 40% is black, and the rest mixed race, white, or Chinese), and a roti stuffed with curried boneless chicken or beef is almost as cheap as the platos del dias in the Dominican Republic. Groceries are also inexpensive compared to the rest of the Caribbean, and the selection's decent. For the first time since Puerto Rico I found tortillas -- although oddly enough, they are made in Belgium!

We're anchored not far from a huge red rustbucket of a motor yacht, and one evening, heading back after cocktails aboard Kajsa, the men aboard waved us over for a visit. Tjeldoy is an ex-ferryboat, a little more than 100 feet long and a little less than 60 years old. Calvin is a skinny but muscular deep-black Trini, born not far from Chaguaramas, and he lives on board and takes care of the boat while the British owner is absent. His friend Michael, from Bequia, is here doing refit work on a 65-foot charter catamaran. Tjeldoy's owner is supposed to arrive on Wednesday, and after a few weeks getting everything together they are going to go to Venezuela for a major refit. Right now the rooms are just shells, with mattresses on the beds and little else, but apparently the owner has big plans to charter out.

Last night we were a little nervous about our position just northeast of Tjeldoy, since Tropical Storm Jerry was forecast to pass over Grenada, just 80 miles north of us. This would bring us southwest winds, and if that huge boat dragged down on us, we'd be in trouble. All the cruisers in Chaguaramas were nervous; those at marinas put out extra lines and fenders, those in the anchorage checked their chafe gear, and nearly everyone took down their sun awnings. We all braced for an evening of rolling and blowing, but Jerry took an unscheduled turn to the north, passing over the Grenadines, far enough away that we didn't even get so much as a breeze.

This, of course, is the peak of the hurricane season. Even though it's been pretty much a bust until just a few days ago, almost everybody's still wary. Which is why it surprised so many cruisers when an announcement was made on the morning net looking for a paid crew member to help deliver the boat Chimera to Maine. We later heard that Chimera, a big and elegant Hinkley, had serious bottom delamination problems. The Hinkley yard up in Maine had sent someone here to look at it, and determined they needed to do the work up in Maine rather than have it done down here. Two Hinkley employees were sent to help bring the boat back, but the owner's insurance company required a fourth, so they advertised and quickly found one more person. We watched them leave one morning; that evening, Tropical Storm Iris formed just west of the islands. The following day Jerry formed to the east, and Iris was upgraded to a Hurricane. I sure wouldn't want to be out there now! Particularly not in a boat with bottom problems...

To be honest, we're not doing Trinidad justice, and we may not get a chance to do more than scratch the surface on this trip. Plans to go hiking in the jungle and nature preserve were scotched when I was helping friends off their dinghy and onto our boat on a particularly rolly afternoon. Thrown off balance, I stepped on a protruding cotter pin on our swim ladder and gouged a dime-sized hole in the sole of my foot. That was nearly a week ago, and it still hurts to walk more than a few hundred yards. (Needless to say, one of our first purchases here was a set of new bolts to replace the cotter pins!)

But a number of things have come together, and it looks like we'll be leaving soon. First of all, most of the people we know here are leaving soon, or just left, for Venezuela and points west. Another inducement to leave is that this is about the worst harbor we've ever been in. Rolly, industrial, noisy, lots of current, marginal holding, yucky water. Since I can't do any real walking, we are feeling terribly boat-bound. If we were going to stay for a while, we'd probably get into a marina -- but then we'd need to rent an air conditioner, because it's incredibly hot here, and the marinas don't get the breezes which cool the anchorage. Crime is a major and increasing problem here. Dinghies are regularly stolen and vandalized, and two groups were held up at gunpoint last week on the road between the two major yacht areas. (Both incidents were at night; we're savvy enough to take the "maxi taxi" [bus] rather than walk at night.)

Mostly, though, we'll be heading out because we got a better offer. Friends of Patrick and Teresa on Kajsa talked them into joining them for a cruise of the Rio Macareo, and they talked us into coming along. The Macareo is one of the tributaries of the Orinoco which empties into the Atlantic in eastern Venezuela just south of the southwestern tip of Trinidad; there's no real cruising guide, only a sheaf of photocopied pages, and we hear that only 15-20 cruising yachts go there each year. It sounds like an adventure!

Rock at Boca de Monos entrance to the Chaguaramas area