Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Chapter Six
I start smoking again!
Destination Martinique and the West Indies!
French cigarettes and culture.
Nudity.
Unpleasant Official on Guadalupe.
A French windsurfer.
Paula Disembarks!
The day after our adventure, we decided to clear customs, up anchor, and head for the Carib-
bean. The anchors were surprisingly easy to break out and were quickly hauled up on deck.
Both were sluiced with a bucket of cleansing seawater and were nestled within the neatly
coiled confines of their respective warps and chains.
The diesel engine thumped reassuringly below; the exhausted water spurted noisily out of
the stern. Herman hauled up the mains'il and jib on command, and Paula sheeted and belayed
in the respective sheets. Déjà vu appeared to smell the salty wind, and she leapt joyously out
to sea. The bow wave broke over the foredeck now and then, and as Déjà vu heeled into the
breeze, the sun reflected in every salty drop. The air was tangy and crisp, spirits were high
on this beautiful morning, and after clearing the buoy limits, a course was set north-northw-
est for the exotic West Indies.
The first island we were to visit was the French protectorate of Martinique. “A tropical para-
dise for sailors the world over,” quoted Paula from the pilot book. “Mmmm, I can smell that
French food already and all those dishy French sailor boys.”
“Not to mention all their yummy topless crew,” I said, winking at Herman.
“You guys would think of things like that. How is your French by the way? Fortunately I
studied it at school, and I can parle fairly well.” retorted the ever quick Paula.
“Well, that's a good thing then; you will have to be our translator won't you, sweetie?” I
drawled.
The passage to Martinique was uneventful with great sailing days in nearly perfect weather
conditions. I would throw out the fishing line, and every now and then we would get a strike.
Most often it was a yellowtail, tuna, or a dorado, and Herman and I would take turns haul-
ing it in, gutting it, and cleaning it. Paula would usually let us guys know just how cruel we
were, but never did she refuse the delicious fish when it was cooked.
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