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3ème Voyage de Caramel - Chapitre 11 - page 1 sur 22

Acte III ou le troisième voyage

Chapitre 11: Santarem–Trinidad

Brian reprend la plume pour ce derni-er chapitre de la campagne 2008-2009 de Caramel. Natif d’Ecosse, no-tre ami équipier sait manier la languede Shakespeare avec un humour toutbritannique. Ceux qui ont la chancede lire l’anglais dans le texte se ré-galeront. Ceux qui ne l’entendent pas,liront la traduction française finementciselée par un lecteur français. Toutceci est bien dans l’esprit de rencon-tre et de fraternité du sillage de Cara-mel. A bientôt.

Brian takes up the pen for this lastchapter of Caramel’s 2008-2009 cam-paign. A native of Scotland, ourfriend and crew member handles thelanguage of Shakespeare with hu-mour that is unmistakeably British.Those who are able to read the text inEnglish will give themselves a treat.Those who don’t understand will readthe French translation finely craftedby a French reader. All of which iseminently in the spirit of brotherhoodand encounter that follows inCaramel’s wake. Bye for now.

I arrived at Santarem Yacht Club at 8a.m. At that hour it was deserted andlooked as though it had seen better

days, and those long ago. But as themorning wore on and while I read anddozed in the shade the workerswrought a miracle. They cleared theplace up, started filling the pool andby lunchtime with white cloths on thetables the club looked remarkablysmart.

The Rallye fleet arrived just aboutthen and Patrick came ashore in therubber dinghy with Jaqueline, thecrew member I was replacing. Inegotiated the absurdly narrow path-way with its ragged wire fence thatled to the dingy mooring, scrambledaboard uncertainly and we took mybaggage out to Caramel. I was think-ing excitedly about being on the Ama-zon at last but in fact I was not thereyet. Santarem stands on the Tapajosriver near where it meets the Amazon.

We came back to the club for lunchand I met a number of the otherRallye participants, including Danielmy fellow crewman. Later we tookJacqueline to her hotel and I had myfirst good look at Santarem.


The town itself strikes one at first asa typical third world dorp, all potholedstreets and smelly gutters. But it's abustling lively place.

The waterfront is jammed with boatscarrying cargo and people hither andthither. Passenger traffic seems to bemostly at night and as you walk alongyou see people settling into their ham-mocks on board these high two orthree decked vessels ready for a tripto some even more remote settlement.

We went to the market where you canbuy varieties of fish ranging fromdinky little Piranhas about six incheslong to vast Grouper like creaturesfive or six feet in length. The mysteryis where do they come from becauseyou see only the occasional fishermanon the river in a tiny pirogue or adozen lads casting their rods alongthe promenade.

The following day we motored off tostock up on fresh water since abnor-mally there had been little rain in thedays before my arrival. We manhan-dled 20 large plastic bottles and emp-tied them into the boat’s water tank.Then we stocked up on groceries.

That evening we had a certain amountof restrained fun pottering about thewaterfront in that caressing warmdarkness that is a delight of the trop-ics. There were lots of people about,

walking, chattering, eating ice creamsand sucking coconut milk throughstraws - delicious. There were kidsplaying basketball, kayak races onthe river, mendicants with goods forsale - all in all a very jolly atmosphere.I'd say it was Mediterranean life inspades.

We eventually settled on a restaurantterrace to enjoy the local hooch, thewell known caiparinha, eat some foodand relax. The food is excellent butserved in mammoth portions. Threeof us had in fact lunched off thedoggie bag from the previous night'sdinner and still had to throw someaway. So I chose a steak sandwichand helped out with the finishing offof a huge pizza that someone elsecouldn't manage.

For most of the time we had musicalentertainment from a keyboard andguitar duo who played and sang excel-lent latin jazz, bossa nova and so forth.Lots of what I took to be their own

compositions but they didn't neglectto throw in the occasional standard. Iexpect that throughout the countryand indeed the world their Girl fromIpanema was one of thousandsplayed that night.


There was a great variety of people towatch and wonder about and onepeculiarity I noticed was that in thesame street you find near slums andbeautiful villas. Is this a sign of socialcohesion or just of rich and poorrubbing along till the next revolutionor military takeover?

On the morning of Good Friday therewas a skipper’s meeting to talk aboutthe descent of the river, the way intothe open sea and the entry to Cay-enne since many of the boats aremaking for there after the official endof the Rallye. I sat discreetly at theback trying to follow what was goingon and nodded wisely at multi-lingualporing over charts.

Later we went into town where incontrast to the previous day every-thing bar one internet café and onerestaurant was closed and where theonly people around were attendingmass.

Through a misunderstanding I hungabout forlornly waiting for Patrick whowas waiting for me elsewhere. Even-tually I went back to the Yacht Club,had a very pleasant swim and a gooddinner and was in bed nice and earlyready for the following day’s dawnstart.

We set sail at 6.30 and although weare hundreds of miles up-river weofficially leave Brazil here. There isnowhere else on our route betweenSantarem and the sea where exitformalities can be carried out.

This left Alain, who crewed Caramelon an earlier stage, went back toFrance and has now returned to joinanother boat, somewhat concerned.He arrived too late for Nicolas toprocess his passport and fears hemay never be able to enter Brazilagain because officially he won't haveleft, no office being open here onGood Friday to do the business.

The boats spread out in a grand pro-cession and there was much VHFtraffic between them and the organis-ers on board the guide boat, Coman-dante Aires.


It wasn’t long before we left the Tapa-jos and entered the Amazon, a pointclearly marked by the change from a

“black” river to a “brown” one.

There was a bit of traffic on the river,both local boats and large sea-goingfreighters.

The river was pretty wide here so Icouldn’t see terribly clearly what washappening along the banks but itlooked mostly uninhabited forest withthe occasional hill – probably teemingwith life though.

I saw a bit more of the boats in theRallye as we motored along and decid-ed that if I ever had a boat I’d haveto register it in Luxemburg because oftheir beautiful flag.

We reached our anchorage for thenight at a spot on the river calledOuteiro around 4.30 and the boats

dropped anchor in a long line parallelto the bank amidst much crying outvia radio of chain lengths and waterdepths. It was explained to me thatthis was relevant to possible collisionsshould current changes cause oneboat to swing towards another.

Patrick and Daniel had a wash in theriver but I didn’t. Frankly I wasscared but I was also concernedabout how my knee (still recoveringfrom its mysterious swelling in Febru-ary) would cope with climbing up theladder to get back on board.


We then went for a trip in the dinghyto admire the wonderful foliage alongthe banks.

We went ashore for a brief stroll in theforest and saw various birds but thewildest animals we came across werewater buffalo in their paddock.

Back to Caramel for a glass or two ofCampari on deck watching darknessapproach and this beautiful river boatsail by till mosquito activity drove usbelow for dinner.

We opened a bottle of Brazilian plonkthat we had bought in Santarem andlike most plonks it improved withevery glass.

The next day was not quite such anearly start but we were away by 7.30.I spent quite a while at the tillerfollowing the boats in front withoutbumping into them and manoeuvringto avoid the tree trunks and largeclumps of vegetation (floating is-lands) that abound in the river.

These clumps can wrap themselvesround anchor chains and clog up pro-pellers and the tree trunks can dam-age the boats. Apparently thefiremen, who together with a numberof policemen are aboard the Coman-dante Aires, had been up half thenight dealing with the floating islands.

I hacked away at a small one aroundour chain myself. Daniel fed mehorrifying “facts” about the danger-ous wildlife the islands provide ahome for. Careful hacking ensued.

It had rained most of the night andthe rain continued throughout themorning. It was cold and wet. Thecloud and mist shrouding the hillsprovided a very romantic atmosphere.


By lunchtime we had reached ourmooring for the night at Jurapari.

We left the river and sailed up a littleinlet and anchored amidst very pleas-ant surroundings.

I hadn’t slept very well thanks to therain I’m sure and not the Brazilianplonk, so after lunch I dozed for a bitto catch up on lost sleep.

We then went for a trip through littlecreeks admiring the foliage and thebird life around.

We came across houses practicallyimmersed in water but not withoutmodern conveniences.

One had chickens on the roof and afew pigs on a nearby platform.

The lady of the house was standing inthe river cleaning a large cooking pot.She told us that they were waiting forthe water level to go down – maybeby July.

A little further on we found her hus-band tend-ing to hiswater buffa-lo.

This onedoesn’tseem toohappy tosee us.

Then it was back on board for cock-tails and dinner.


Another day of steaming uneventfullydown-river at about 10 knots admir-ing the passing scenery and the beau-tiful skies. You feel that you couldreach up and pull down one of thecandy-floss clouds.

We moored for the night at a spot onthe river called Mojui and went for ourusual spin in the dinghy along a littleriver passing several dwellings and alittle sawmill.

Apart from the raising of pigs andwater buffalo that’s the only economicactivity that seems to be available tothe river dwellers.

They are not well off for social servic-es either. One of the ComandanteAires’s crew was taken to hospitalearlier in the day with a suspectedbroken arm. There was no plasteravailable to make a cast so an old-

fashioned splint had to be used. Atleast the Rallye had the means to gethim to a hospital reasonably quickly.

We took the dinghy up a beautifullittle creek that I was sure must bethe lair of crocodiles and anacondasbut we saw no wildlife at all. Being abit low on fuel we paddled back down.This was not the easiest of operationswith two of us trying to co-ordinateour paddling properly in order tomove ahead but frequently bumpinginto bushes overhanging the water.

As a result when we got back toCaramel the dinghy was full of debrisand had to be cleaned out.

We needed to be cleaned up as well soI reluctantly joined Patrick and Danielin the river for a soapy swim but I wasnot wildly happy. Even less so whenI learnt next morning that one boathad found a snake in their dinghy. Ithad to have come from the water.

But that trial over there was a lovelysunset and we had guests for dinnerand spent a pleasant and convivialevening with them.


The following day started cold and wetand some delay in getting away be-cause of an engine breakdown in oneof the boats and the afore-mentionedsnake in a dinghy.

When wedid get un-derwaywithsteaminglights onbecause ofthe mistand rainwe madesure thatDaniel’sbaobabgot the

benefit of the weather.

The weather brightened up as the daywore on.

We came to a more densely populatedpart of the river and were approached

by pirogues, mostly crewed by chil-dren, who inspected us with silentcuriosity as we snapped away to cap-ture the moment on film.

In what I thought was an amusingturning of the tables one man in apirogue sailed by taking photographsof us.

Caramel was equipped with goodiebags containing useful things like pen-

cils and treats like sweets and thesewere thrown to the kids but we didn’thave nearly enough to satisfy thedemand.

We moored off Serraria, a large vil-lage with a sawmill (hence the nameprobably), a church, a school, abar/restaurant and a handful of hous-es. It lies tantalizingly close to theEquator at 0.55 degrees South.

Inspectionby piroguescontinuedand whenwe wentashore wewere no lessan object ofcuriosity.

In the evening the whole Rallye con-gregated in the village bar/restaurantwhere we were served with deliciouskebabs and drank no less deliciousdrinks.

It was an absolutely charmingevening with swarms of kids millingaround, having their pictures takenand sharing our food and drink. Webought up the bar’s entire supply of


popcorn in an attempt to satisfy thechildrens’ hunger for sweet treats.

Here’s Sylviane with a bunch of themplus the hand of another one who’sdetermined to get into the picturesomehow.

We went back on board in a tropicaldownpour.

An early start next day and a long sailto Afua where we finally tied up along-side the Comandante Aires at about5pm.

On the way we passed this pair ofbarges being pushed along.

There was aspell of heavyweather andwe had to takethe dinghydown from thisposition slungalongsidewhere it wasbeing buffeted

to and fro and up and down and takeit in tow to prevent dinghy and con-tents from ending up in the drink.

One of the boats had to be taken intow when its engine broke down. Theheavy weather had stirred up whatev-er muck lay in the bottom of their fueltank with a resultant clogging up.Apart from these incidents the sailwas uneventful and as we got closerto Afua we passed more and moreriverside settlements.

Afua is an absolute jewel.

The town is built above the water orrather mudflats. The narrow streetsare edged by shops and houses allsupported on wooden piles often with

little bridges to get to the front door.There is not a powered vehicle to beseen or heard.


This is a bicycle town.

What is not transported on the riverfrom one pier to another goes bybicycle van. The streets and quitegrand town square are constantlyoccupied by streams of cyclists.

There are cycle taxis, four-wheeledfamily cycles, people speeding alongwith a friend on the pillion under aparasol and even a cycle butcher.

The peace that you might imagine aconsequence of no cars is somewhattempered by loud music from barsand by the good news of Jesus beingyelled out through loudspeakersmounted on - you've guessed it - abicycle.

The Rallye spent several days in Afuawinding down from the six monthlong voyage and celebrating the ad-venture.

Celebrations included a tea party withAfua’s third age club and an eveningdo at which speeches were made,

prizes awarded and traditional danc-ers, one of whom selected me as apartner, entertained.


We said goodbye toa number of peoplewho set off by ferryto Macapa wherethey could catch aflight to Recife andthen on to Europe.

Alain went along aswell on a 48 hourdash to sort out hisofficial exit fromBrazil and get backbefore the fleet leftAfua.

Much of the rest ofthe time was spent strolling aroundenjoying the atmosphere and socialis-ing in the town’s bars and restaurants.

The food available, with the honoura-ble exception of a pizza place, was thesame everywhere.

There was chicken, beef or pork eitherfried or stewed. In both cases theaccompaniments were rice and spa-ghetti (both normally cold) and threesmall plastic tubs. One held a mace-doine of vegetables, one a piquantsauce and the third grated manioc.Brazilians appear to adore gratedmanioc but it is a taste not readily,nor I daresay willingly acquired by therest of us.

Fish, astonishingly was seldom availa-ble but delicious ice-cream was.

The Amazon is tidal at this point whichmeant that if you cleared floating

islands when the tide was in onedirection you stood a good chance ofbeing caught by them again when itturned. The firemen were kept busy.

Patrick decided that Caramel wouldbe better off out in the river ratherthan tied up alongside the Comandan-te at the quay where a great deal ofvegetation and rubbish gathered sowe moved her on the Saturday morn-ing.

I spent the afternoon releasing babyturtles into the Amazon. It was allpart of a project to conserve andprotect Amazonian wildlife, or morespecifically various species of turtle.

We steamed off on one of the largeriver boats full of a cheery mass ofwildlife enthusiasts, or maybe justenthusiasts with nothing better to doon a Saturday afternoon. We sailedfor about an hour, during which therewas a draw for tortoise preservation

tee shirts. For some reason this wasdone in the noisiest part of the boat.Add to that my limited Portugueseand it’s not surprising that I couldmake out nothing.

But thanks to a friendly local whoheard my number being called I gotone, but so I think did 90% of the


passengers - some of them, unlikeme, even got an appropriate size.

When we reached the large islandwhere theturtles wereto be re-leased wehad to beferriedashore bysmall boats.

There were a number of vats full ofbaby turtles and an area of beachfenced off and lined with small crates.

Several posters were on display ex-plaining the turtle's problems andhow they were being sorted outthanks to the public authorities of theregion. One had an English transla-tion of the "rotdogs sold here" variety.

There was a loudspeaker system setup and an awning under which stoodrepresentatives of the various bodiesinvolved in this project. There werespeeches from each of them, aboutsix in all I'd say. And then variousvotes of thanks. You didn't need to beable to understand much Portugese toknow what was going on.

I expect the speeches were boringbecause before they were finishedsome enthusiasts got hold of a fewturtles, put them on the sand, pointedthem towards the river and wishedthem luck.

Eventually there was a more substan-tial release when the crates werefilled from the vats and hundreds ofturtles were given their freedom.Some of them didn't quite understandand went the wrong way but amazing-

ly the vast majority made straight forthe river. How on earth did they knowwhich way to go? Maybe they aregenetically geared to go downhill.

When it was over we all clamberedback into little boats, got aboard themother ship and enjoyed a snack anda cold drink on the way home. All thiscourtesy of the various sponsoringbodies.


Here’s a family relaxing on the returnleg who clearly had enjoyed their dayout.

On our final day in Afua we did somelast minute provisioning and spenttime cleaning Caramel and preparingfor leaving the river. The outboardwas brought inboard and I did someminor repairs to the cockpit canopyusing a cunning gadget the size of ascrewdriver that replicates the actionof a sewing machine.

I couldn’t resist taking a picture ofwhat must be Afua’s most exotic bikebefore leaving.

Our early start the following day wasdelayed a little when one of theyachts lost an outboard engine fromits mounting on the deck rails as itbrushed accidentally against a localboat. The firemen gallantly plungedinto the murky waters but the searchwas eventually given up.

We sailed first along a fairly narrowstretch of water with the usual denseforest cover on either side and into amuch wider expanse. I was at thewheel during rainfall that was soheavy I couldn’t see the ComandanteAires who was leading the way.When the depth fell to about 3 metresthe fleet slowed and maintained posi-tion (which wasn’t easy in the condi-tions) while Aires searched for apassage. When that was found weproceeded at full steam ahead.

This was the point at which the Co-mandante Aires had fulfilled her mis-sion and the Rallye was finally over.She stood by with Patrick Hebel,Jaqueline, Nicolas, the crew, the fire-men and the policemen waving good-bye as the fleet sailed past andonwards towards their last anchoragebefore heading out to sea.

Patrick set off a couple of fireworks onboard Caramel and there was muchmutual transmission of good wishesamongst the fleet via VHF.

We reached our quiet and pleasantanchorage off an island somewhere inthe Amazon delta around 3.30 anddid more preparations for going tosea including bringing the dinghy upon deck.

Most importantly Patrick took methrough all the safety gear and proce-


dures, both of us keeping our fingerscrossed that we’d never have occa-sion to use them.

During the day the system drawing inwater from outside to flush the toiletshad failed. The inlet had beenblocked by some of the floating debristhat had accumulated around us inAfua.

We failed to clear the blockage frominside so both Daniel and Patrick hada go from the river, secured by ropesagainst being swept away by thestrong current. Eventually Patrickhad to put on scuba bottles to be ableto spend enough time at the job tounblock the inlet.

After that it was good to relax withvisitors (Livia and Roberto) for drinksand snacks. I can’t swear to it but Isuspect some of the snacks wereserved on Patrick’s excellent home-made bread.

We set off at 5.30 the following morn-ing with the objective of getting wellout to sea clear of fishing areas along

the coast before turning North andpicking up a favourable current.

The sea was quite heavy and sittingon the side of the cockpit as Caramelplunged down wave and up again wasexhilarating. It felt rather like skiingacross a mogul field and reminded mealso of what fun I’d had dinghy racingin the dim and distant past.

We crossed the line during the after-noon and held a delayed celebrationwith foie gras and Vouvray at cocktailtime.

I took the first watch and was trulyterrified at the responsibility of beingin charge of Caramel on the high seasin the dark even though I knew ashout would bring a more than compe-tent sailor to take over within seconds.I was very glad when midnight sound-ed and I was released. I wasn’t gladfor long though because although therough seas hadn’t troubled me ondeck once I got into my bunk it was adifferent story.

Up and down went the bow, and meand my stomach with it. It didn’t takelong for my stomach to throw in thetowel. Fortunately I made it to thetoilet before throwing up.

I then spent some time on deck andfinally crawled into a ball on a benchin the main cabin amidships and sleptfitfully. I felt rough.

I didn’t feel too bad next day butconcentrated on seasickness pills rath-er than food and spent a second nighton a bench by the dining table.


On our third day at sea conditionswere much calmer and we made ex-cellent progress under sail.

Here is the blue sea, so different incolour from the Amazon, with thecoast of Guyane in the distance.

In the Marina des Dégrads de Cannewe moored alongside the catamaranMarie Soizic, a fellow participant inthe Rallye. She was already secondboat out from the quay because thesmall marina was pretty crowded butthere is electricity and water so we’refine. We filled up with water and Ihad my first shower for some days.

A lot of the Rallye boats had decidedto come on to Guyane and here’s

Brise du Sud tying up in a similarposition to us but many boats had tomoor in the river.

One of the excitements of being in themarina was the fact that a rowingrace from Senegal to Guyane wasending just when we were there andthe boats were arriving at the marina.

Can you imagine spending over 40days and nights in the Atlantic in oneof these?

The marina is several miles from any-where so for thefour days thatwe were to behere we hired acar and a fun-packed series ofexcursions wasplanned.

First up was aguided tour at 8in the morningof the Europeansatellite launch-ing complex. Itwas a long wayfrom where wewere so yet an-other early startwas needed.

This was a fascinating visit after whichwe had lunch in a quiet little townwhere I had fish but Daniel and Sylvi-ane tried a local wild beast.


Guyane is of course a départementd’outre mer which means that it’sactually part of France so, strangethough it seems in this tropical set-ting the road signs and many otherthings are identical to the same thingsin metropolitan France. One of thestrangest is perhaps the fact that theParis fire brigade run the fire servicesat the space centre.

That evening we went into Cayenneand wandered round a series of stallsthat were associated with celebratingthe Senegal-Guyane rowing race.There were some very impressiveschool projects on display.

We had drinks in Les Palmistes, a barthat has been around for a hundredyears and an excellent dinner in LeKas Kreol where the welcome by largeladies in colourful costumes was ex-ceedingly warm.

Next morning we went into Cayenneagain to buy provisions for the next

leg of the voyage. We started in themarket which was overflowing withfruit and vegetables both known andunknown.

The market’s customers refreshedthemselves with ice drenched insweet syrups.

The Cora supermarket we went toafterwards was less exotic and goingby its contents we could have beenanywhere in France.

There was a beach near the marinawhere it was said turtles came to laytheir eggs. I visited it twice but sawonly one turtle and it had died in theattempt to get up the beach. Theatmosphere of the place particularlyin the evening reminded me stronglyof Mombasa and Dar.

A popular excursion here is to theHmong market at Cacao deep in thejungle and which you get to via a roadin infernally bad condition.

The Hmong are a sub-ethnicity of theChinese who were historically ill-treat-


ed by the dominant ethnicity and theymoved into Laos and Vietnam. Whenthe struggle against European settle-ment of that region began they sidedwith the colonisers and later with theAmericans. So they found themselvesin a difficult position in the 70s andmany fled to refugee camps in Thai-land. In view of their earlier supportFrance offered them refuge and sever-al hundreds (later more) were reset-tled in Guyane at Cacao in the middleof nowhere.

I suppose it was not too dissimilar tothe environment they were used toand they have flourished over theyears. They are now said to contrib-ute 80% of the fresh produce that issold in Guyanese markets.

They have kept them-selves largely to them-selves.

This little old ladycould be making herway home anywherein Indochina insteadof Guyane.

They can be seen man-ning stalls is urbanmarkets throughoutGuyane and theirown weekly market

where they sell artisanal products aswell as food is a tourist attraction.

We pottered about looking at this andthat in the village and in the market,buying a few fruits, querying whatwere some of theweird concoctions,visiting theHmong historyand culture exhibi-tion and finallyhaving lunch.

Here’s our seriousyoung waiter, nodoubt helping outthe family with hislittle Sunday job.

Back at the marina there was anevening “bring your own” picnic thatbrought together all the Rallye partici-pants who had sailed here from theAmazon. It was a chance to chat tomany of them for the very last timealthough others like ourselves weregoing on to Trinidad.

The picnic broke up as darkness felland the mosquitoes came out to play.

On our last day in Guyane we had awonderful excursion. We took aspeedy catamaran from Koukou tothe Isles du Salut which again meantan early start and a long drive forDaniel poor chap.

The islands include Devil's Islandwhere Dreyfus was incarcerated andfrom where Papillon, according to hisown account escaped. Not quite true


apparently but what the hell the re-gime was just as bad where he was.

The French could have taught theGermans and the Russians a thing ortwo about how to run a prison camp.The truly astonishing thing is that thiscamp was only closed down in 1945and the detainees in Guyane were notfinally freed and/or resettled until the50s.

The complex of buildings on Isle Roy-ale which is where the main prisonwas, is a quiet and peaceful paradisenow.

The former administration building isa smart hotel and the prison officers’bungalows can also be used by tour-ists.

A walk round the island offers wonder-ful views and gives glimpses of mon-keys and other wildlife that mycamera strains to record with any

clarity so I won’t offer you any of myout of focus shots here.

On the other hand here’s quite apretty shot of Devil’s Island.

But seeing the exercise yard and en-

trance to the punishment cell blockbrings the visitor back to the horrificreality of the cruel history of theseislands.

The chap who gave the guided tourwas a master of his material anddelivered it with great enthusiasmand humour despite the bleakness ofthe subject.


Here’s our last view of Isle Royale andI’m sure it’s a view that its forcedresidents would have been delightedto see but a large proportion of themdidn’t survive long enough to savourit.

On our last evening in Guyane weenjoyed the hospitality of Françoiseand Jean-François aboard Brise duSud.

In the morning while waiting in heavyrain for the tide we bade farewell toour neighbours on the quay Alain,Marie-Françoise and Sylviane fromMarie Souzic with whom we hadshared many good moments. Theywere not going on to Trinidad.

We spent four days at sea en route toTrinidad. The weather was a littleunkind at first but soon settled intofine sunny conditions and the windand current bowled us along merrily.

There wasplenty of thisstuff to lookat but notmuch else un-til we reached

the coast of Trinidad which we sailedalong for hours.

It was mountainous and thickly wood-ed with only a few lights here andthere breaking through the darkness.We moored in Scotland Bay around10pm and spent a peaceful nightuntroubled by any swell.

We set off early in the morning andarrived within an hour or so at theCrews Inn marina.

When I hear the word marina this iswhat I think of - lots of beautifulyachts lying peacefully in the sun-shine and I imagine their crews idlingthe days away. The latter proved notto be at all true.

After sorting out the paperwork atimmigration, customs and the marinareception we took Caramel to herberth - a stone’s throw from the hotelswimming pool and bar.


Caramel was destined to spend abouteight months in Trinidad so the focuswas on preparing her for that. A startwas made today with breaks to es-cape the heat in the swimming pooland to enjoy a couple of beers.

In the evening we met up for drinkswith some of the Rallye participantswho had also called at Trinidad andwe all went on to an Italian restaurantnot far away.

I played my role of RIDS translator formore or less the first time since join-ing the Rallye by giving Marcel a handat the hotel and I continued to helphim over the next few days with thearrangements for storing his yachthere. None of that was too difficultbut I had a more challenging andamusing assignment helping Hamil-ton the owner of the Brazilian yachtPilata.

Here she is with Hamilton standingalongside.

They had a number of technical prob-lems that needed to be sorted outbefore they could carry on with theirround the world voyage. It was diffi-cult with limited English.

Well my English was fine but my Portu-guese was non-existent and my tech-

nical knowledge likewise. However wemanaged surprisingly well. He wouldexplain the problem to me in Portu-guese; I would get the gist of it trans-late it as best I could into English andgive him the response in my mediocreSpanish with much waving of handsand dumbshow.

After a couple of days of cleaning,dismantling and storing came thefascinating process of taking Caramelout of the water. We sailed into anarrow channel and a vast machinetrundled over us, slings were slungbelow the boat, a diver plunged in tomake sure the slings were not fouling

any essential under water bits and theboat was raised into the air. (We wereno longer aboard.)The travel-lift, forsuch is the machine's name, rolledforward on its massive wheels andheld the boat steady above theground. A man with a jet hosescooshed water all over the hull forever and a day.


Then a cowboy nonchalantly but withprecision drove a huge flatbed truckunder the boat.

Supporting hydraulic ramps wereraised, the slings were removed and

Caramel was trucked off to her tempo-rary resting place.

We ended up propped up on varioussupports with a long ladder to get in

and out since we were still livingaboard.

Storage preparation work continued.I was spared much of the work sinceit required yachtie skills so I can’tcomplain, only marvel at the dedica-tion it takes to fully enjoy the yacht-ing life.

So I wandered about the boatyardand one day bumped into a Leithregistered yacht and had a chat withthe owner. He'd been sailing roundthe world for several years, single-handled for the last while because hiswife got fed up, jumped ship in Singa-pore and headed back to Auld Reekie.

While in the boatyard we got togetherwith all the Ral-lye crews whowere in the ma-rina and had alovely barbe-cue.

Here’s Joanfrom Pilatalooking afterthe cooking.

Before Caramel came out of the waterDaniel and I had a day off, hired a carand toured the north-west corner ofthe island.

Poor old Daniel had do the drivingagain because I had no licence withme. Not only was it a challenge forhim to remember to drive on the leftbut the traffic in Port of Spain and thelong continuous strip of towns thatleads east out of the capital was verybad and road conditions extremelypoor. The local driving standards


were dreadful and I think both of usfelt quite nervous at times.

Up in the mountains it was very beau-tiful as was one of the beaches westopped at but some of the peoplewere not very friendly.

One of the guys in this picture insistedthat we could photograph only thefish, not him. He was pretty nasty

about it but fortunately he didn’t real-ise I’d already snapped him.

Eventually with all the work on theboat finished this stage of Caramel’svoyage came to an end.

Patrick and Daniel flew off to Europeleaving me to go back a few dayslater to console myself with Scotland’s

acte iii ou le troisième voyage · dled 20 large plastic bottles and emp-tied them into the...

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