Blackwattle Southward in the Windward Islands

by Nancy Knudsen/Sail-World on 20 Jan 2007 Cruising Editor Nancy Knudsen and her husband Ted Nobbs on their Peterson 46 Blackwattle, continue cruising southwards along the west coast of St Lucia heading south towards Grenada and then Trinidad:


If the Marigot Bay Heaven had a devil or two in it, now we really ARE in heaven. We’re only 7 miles south of Marigot Bay, below the Pitons, huge pointed ancient volcano cores which tower over all the surrounding mountainous territory.

It’s a National Park here, so anchoring is discouraged, to preserve the sea bottom. We’re on a mooring, tied back to a tree, very close to the shore. The water is as clear as the clearest in Turkey, and we snorkel around the boat, go for walks in the surrounding rainforest, and eat at Benny’s restaurant at night. These are the moments when we remember easily why we are cruising.

Along the beach the kids play, taking for granted the Eden in which they live. Coconuts they shake from the palm trees, and papaya are there for the taking. Older men come out in boats trying to sell things, or tie up our lines, or take us for a tour.

Sadly, we don’t need any of these things. Great superyachts tie up a few hundred metres from us along the shore, and on the grass verge beside the beach, a bull of massive proportions has an unlikely friend in a white cormorant, who tags along, no matter where the bull grazes.

Every now and then, the bull stops and looks at the cormorant quizzically, then goes on munching – strange friends, but they stay together all day! (Ticks, I think)

Under us, in the clear water, there are tiny yellow fish with bright blue eyes, long orange fish that look like tiny garfish, and myriads of others. – there are white fronds of seaweed blowing in the currents, and tiny crabs skid from hiding place to the next one. Back in the air, it rains, then the sun shines, then another thunderstorm and sunshine again. The air is crisp and fresh – we swim several times a day.

It’s time to visit Souffiere, one of the more sophisticated villages on St Lucia – used to be the capital in fact!

It’s a ramshackle sleepy village, old colonial buildings and well-kept manicured parks next to crumbling shacks and weeds growing wild. It’s Sunday, there's sound of the choir singing after the service, and the church-going locals are out in their colourful best finery, spreading around the town to take tea and coffee in European style.





We walk the streets, drink tea and watch the local scene. Kids play, chooks wander and the seafront is spread with dreadlocked tired looking young bucks, lolling under the trees.





A fishing boat has come in, and men crowd around the fishermen hoping for a free fish – which they get.

Back at the Pitons, we dine with the family of Benny – known far and wide with respect – as his family has owned, for four generations, 100 acres of rainforest right under the Pitons.

His booming voice rings out from his airy verandah, shouting orders at his various helpers, who run his small fleet of boats and help in his restaurant and small guest house. He’s barefooted and king of his territory. His tall and elegant wife Marcilene does the cooking, his 11 year old daughter Jennilyn waits table. Benny Jnr, a solemn lad of 16 or so, drives the runabouts which act as water taxis for the area.

‘The Pitons are changing,’ he says, ‘the neighbouring beach to mine has been sold to a developer.’
I stare out along the pristine beach, running with kids, chocolate faces laughing noisily as they splash in the clear water.
‘That’s so sad!’ I say, ‘This is heaven for these kids – they probably don’t know how lucky they are now.’
‘They have no idea,’ says Benny, ‘ and soon they will be shunted off, not allowed to play there. We have been offered SO much money for this place, but there’s no way that I will sell, and I have made it so that my children can’t sell either. We must preserve something for the future.’

We dine on local fish, plantain, breadfruit and yams. He gives all his dinner guests a small ceramic sculpture, made by the local villagers. ‘I never sell these,’ he says, ‘but I pay the villagers a little and it keeps their traditional crafts alive.’

We need more Benny’s in this world.

We’re leaving St Lucia now – on to the Grenadines. Can’t wait to discover our next island!