Another rough sailing day unfortunately. We had the wind from our back and would have gone wing on wing but the spinnaker boom broke. We now had a flapping foresail and rough seas and were much too slow. It wasn’t fun but it wasn’t scary, only a bit frustrating. Martinique would be crowded because of the Carnaval and so we were happy to find a vacant mooring buoy in front of the Marina L’etang Z’abricots where we were told we would have to leave by ten the next morning but this was better than nothing. We had arrived just before dark and were tired and a bit frustrated. The weather forecast had announced a cold front with storm force gusts passing through that night and we were never sure when that would happen and if we would make it to safety in time. Obviously we had made it and the party lights for the cockpit needed to come out and brighten the mood.
Clearing into the country took forever the next morning and we just made it to leave by ten and went straight to the fort Saint Louis which is directly in front of the city. I had hoped to get a spot in the marina or on another buoy but there was no space and when I saw how crowded the anchorage in front of the fort was, my mood darkened again. There was a lot of swell and wind and not much protection. I was scared to anchor this close to everybody else in these conditions. After much checking here and there we found a spot that looked promising. Thanks to Amy’s shallow draft we can always go to the front where most of the others can’t go (except the catamarans of course).
The Carnaval wasn’t really a disappointment (there were still some very cool groups presenting themselves) but we had expected it to be more extravagant. Instead it was mostly loud with car convoys that were a bit boring and terrorinzingly loud.
On Saturday we took a bus to the botanical garden outside of the city. That was very nice and Martinique landscape is beautiful too. Something that gets lost when one only stays in the city of Fort de France. Dimanche Gras was the next biggest parade after Mardi Gras but I had already decided, not to stay until the Fat Tuesday Parade. Zissi’s flight home was Monday night and I would leave Tuesday morning.
It took us a bit to find out about the altered bus schedule and where the buses stop outside of the city to get to the airport but being over fifty and not wanting to leave anything to chance we had already practised much of the day. We had found the bus stop, we had timed our walk from the dinghy to the bus and we had already bought the tickets.
We got to the airport early and there was a long line. Unfortunately this was only the start for Zissi journey home that would include a lot more waiting, delays, planes missed etc.
Since nobody had been able to tell us when the last bus would go towards the city, I left early, caught a bus and was back on the boat in no time. I did some repair on the spinnaker boom through most of the night. Sleeping was impossible with this noise anyway and I tried to distract myself from my sadness.
