I just found an opportunity to get this up today, part one of a multi-part tale. Our introduction to Haiti…

Fishermen returning with their catch to Cap Haitien

Monday 20^th April

We arrived in Cap Haitien at dawn on Saturday 19^th April to an armada of fishing boats tending nets and trolling lines. Some travelling under sail and many by the oars of fishermen who looked both strong and adept. Stowing our sails and preparing the boat for land, we arrived at the commercial docks at 8am to clear customs and work out what dockage was available to us in the marina, or if the marina was still there at all.

Cap Haitien from the sea

It wasn’t. And we had failed to account for the Haitian’s disregard for British summer time, it was 7am. We slept. Fatigued from the overnight passage, uneventful as it was. It’s takes more than 12 hours to get used to sleeping in 3 hour stints, neither of us were alert. Gary (my poor interpretation of his probably French name) took our lines and offered to be our boat boy, protector and provisioner all in one. He informed the harbour master that we had arrived and told us to wait for immigration to come to us.

Kel and I were both conflicted about coming to Haiti. We were lured here by Tom and Caroline’s stories of Jacmel, illuminated and coaxed further into the light by Hardy’s encouragement. By a Haitian taxi driver that fleeced Kel in West Palm as she journeyed from one to two to three camera repair stores attempting to fix her beloved Nikon. Haiti called to us through others, we didn’t really seek her out.

But we also knew of another Haiti. One whom government websites warned against all but essential travel. Whose flag was the red and blue of the French tricolour without the white, the white was overthrown, expelled in the slave revolt of 1804. The debate gained momentum. Should be travel there at all. Could we bring the boat, or was it safer left in the Dominican Republic while we travelled over land.

One of the flotilla of stunning sailboats criss-crossing through the bay

We sent out requests for information over the radio, but the nets were devoid of Haitian pilgrims. In the end we reminded ourselves that the trip was always about Haiti. And Belize, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Columbia, even Venezuela. We didn’t set sail for the Bahamas or Antigua, beautiful as they are. We set sail to encounter the unknown worlds, the back arse of nowhere, the unvisited. And so we left Provo bound for Cap Haitien determined to be faithful to ourselves as travellers, as those prone to risk, embracing experience.

After three hours in Cap Haitien jumping through the hoops of immigration and customs, without any difficulty, we made our way to Labadie, a village five miles west of Cap Haitien was our first introduction to the real Haiti. We went ashore to shed light on the coil of ropes in the corners of our minds working their way into snakes. Landing on the beach outside Norm’s hotel we stumbled into a world of helpful interesting people who have gone out of their way to expose us to the reality of Labadie. Judy, an American who has pioneered a medical training programme in the hospital in Cap Haitien greeted us on shore and offered immediately to walk us through the village. My ignorance and naivety failed to foresee the necessity of her presence with us. Haiti is an extremely poor country, the poorest in the western world, and our arrival to this small village, in our opulent sailboat, required a contextualisation that we could not achieve unaided.

We walked through the village with Judy and listened to her explain the history of the area. We met her friends, and were immersed in hospitality and curiosity as we walked through the narrow alleys. Labadie was a high-achieving Haitian village by virtue of the corrugated tin roofs, the poorest villages use palm branches. We met her friends, wonderful generous people who shared their food with us and helped us exchange money at the local rate, rather than the tourist tax.

Beannacht at anchor in Labadie

Haitian are notorious for their scamming capacities, especially with the tourists. It’s almost not something to be offended by, they’re just extremely poor, and I am extremely rich. Relatively speaking. So as we walked around the village, and as we’ve been on the boat at anchor, it’s been difficult not to feel like we’re just walking dollar bills to the locals. Just heading to the money exchange I got scammed by a Joseph. What was more humorous was the off-licence who tried to charge me 50 goo for a beer bottle that I had failed to return when the beer only cost me 35 goo in the first place.

To be continued… 

 

Our destination today is Riverside, California, where our fine friends Andrea and Hardy live. We’re both really looking forward to our annual catch up with them, and our first introduction to their one year old son Mahlon.

Yesterday we ‘did’ San Fran. Well Keli did anyhow. I chose to ‘do’ dirt biking with Dowdsy instead. Awesome balls! Mark & Claire have just moved down from Toronto and in a bid to assimilate with the natives Mark bought motocross bikes for his son Shaughn and himself. 4 hours of racetracks and trail riding. Fabulous. We grabbed dinner with them later in the evening which was lovely. I think I looked pretty good on the old bike:

A modest attempt at cornering on the track

This morning we woke up to pure luxury. Hardy’s parents, Tom and Caroline, live in downtown SF and have a beach house on Muir Beach, just 20 mins outside of the city. We met them at 5pm and had a wonderful chat over pizza and wine, listening to their stories of living in Central America and the Caribbean, and giving them the scoop on the boat. We were both really struck by their life experience, fascinating people and really hospitable. It was lovely to meet them after hearing about them for so long.

The beach house

The house is a wonderful, simple construction of wood and glass, with a large deck. Every window had a great view of the beach. The sea or the hills. A mother and two young deer sat all morning in the back garden watching us potter around making breakfast and drinking coffee. We’re stayed on their Paris apartment twice before and they have such a knack for creating simple, liveable, inviting spaces. We envy and really hope to emulated their ability to pick special homes and then open them up to people. If we find a little hideaway in Columbia or Nicaragua we may just attempt a similar feat. Kel has just told me that it must have a place for a hammock in the shade, I think we can probably work that out. If we’re stuck we can always grab a hotel somewhere like here: houston cheap hotels.

This rights many wrongs, well this and coffee.

After falling out on the way home from the Dowdses, a small matter of me failing to follow Keli’s instructions on the freeway and then taking her admonishment thickly, we made up over a coffee – even managing a game of chess without killing each other which is almost unheard of! It’s difficult to remain grumpy in such a zen like location, perhaps Maginness and Robinson need an all expenses paid trip to Muir beach- there’s even a nudist beach just below the house they could hang out on, so to speak.

Andrea and Hardy have become a continual source of amazing holiday destinations to us. I first met Andrea, pre Kel and Hardy, after failing in an attempt to chat up a hot lady at a Coldplay gig in New York. Having walked her (hot girl) back to her car and returned without so much as a peck on the cheek to a mile long queue for the bus home I didn’t fancy being delayed. I quietly slid in to the front of the queue attempting to arouse no suspicion and was greeted by a feisty Italian American who asked ‘excuse me, who are you?’ to which I of course replied ‘don’t worry, I’m just a queue jumper’. By the time our journey finished we had a date at her local Jesuit mass on Sunday, which became my NY church. That one little social infraction (i like to view it as charming and cheeky, almost Russell Brand esk?) gave birth to an amazing friendship that has opened Kel and I to great holidays in New York, Palermo, Paris, California and now a divine night in a beach house in San Fran.

It’s a funny, and in some ways lucky or coincidental happening, that has given birth to an amazing friendship. But I also think it’s the fruit of living hospitably and making conscious decisions to pursue opportunities as they arise. You make your own luck on these ones. Andrea and Hardy are already planning return visits to Columbia and Barbados which is really exciting, and we’re really hoping that Tom and Caroline make a trip out as well.

Today was also a really big sailing day as we viewed the Beneteau for the first time. As I mentioned earlier this week there are four options on the go, one of which was in San Fran. It was our first time on this type of boat, and we both had bucket loads of hopes and fears. Whatever we buy will be our home for the next 3-6 years, and despite all our research and rational thought, the right boat has to ‘feel’ right. What fun.

The boat in Alameda

It felt right. Spacious living, good deck layout. A well-loved boat waiting for new carers. This particular one has only had one owner, and has been on SF it’s whole life. We spent an hour working our way through a checklist, and in the end are both convinced that it’s the right model. We’re probably going to make our first offer on the boat in Rhode Island, it’s cheaper to start with and has a lot more kit, but this boat is a perfect backup which is great. I’ll phone our broker tomorrow to begin the bidding process.

On that note, somebody please tell me what’s to become of the stock markets and the global economy in general?! (204 miles to L.A. apparently) I’ve been watching the money markets, stock markets and housing news non-stop since we arrived in Canada as we’re going to have to convert pounds to dollars to buy the boat. In July the exchange rate was about 2:1, whereas today it’s down to about 1.75 USD to the pound- ouch! Thankfully we managed to sell our house, unlike so many of our friends, but I’m continually amazed at the extent of the crisis, and the complete failure of the free market to self regulate. Feels like a good time to be away actually, and definitely a time to learn some lessons about living more cheaply, or at least within our means- something we never managed in Ireland.

So, my turn to drive- does this road last forever or what? We’ll have driven 3000 miles by the time we get back to Vancouver- that’s about the distance of our longest ocean crossing, from Galapagos to French Polynesia. In a boat that takes a month mind you, I’ll write a book during that one!

One little story that I thought worth a mention happened in the doctors surgery, where we took Gran for a quick check-up on Thursday. Gran is fairly deaf and so conversations happen a volume that lacks subtlety. Returning from her consultation she waited with me while Keli booked her next appointment. We were chatting away when she leaned in to my ear and whispered, at something like 60 decibels, ‘have that man’s trousers split dear? It looks like his crotch is bursting out, perhaps the stitching has gone?’ The man was sitting directly opposite us, probably 8 feet away and of course heard every word. I maintained my compusure and avoided eye contact. I said to Gran, at a more modest volume, that I wasn’t aware whether his trousers had split, to which she replied (again at 60 dbs) ‘well take a look then and find out for me’. At which point Keli returned and we made a swift exit. We laughed a lot when we got home!

We got down tonight and headed out to the ballet – a production called ’9 Sinatra Songs’ by Ballet BC. I’m not exactly fluent in ballet, but I’m learning slowly. Kel had a great night and really enjoyed seeing the company again – she used to have season tickets.

Now we’re heading off again, this time on a road trip to San Francisco to view a yacht, and then to our awesome friends Andrea and Hardy in Riverside. We’re hooking up with Mark and Claire Dowds on the way through SF and I’m going dirt biking with Mark and Shaughan which will be amazing! Then on the way home we’re stopping in Seattle with Michelle Ford and our friends Marge and Bob Liston.

So, off to start packing for a 5am departure from Vancouver, but just wanted to touch base with our whereabouts. The boat we’re looking at is one of four in our shortlist, and I’d say it’s probably no.2 at present, but no.1 is in Rhode Island – a long way away. It amazes me that we will be driving for 17 hours tomorrow and still be another 7 away from Andrea and Hardy!

Check out the boats here if you’d like, if I new how I’d start a poll!

No.1
No.2 – which we’re going to see on Monday.
No.3
No.4

Will get another proper post up as we travel, and we’ll bring the camera so we can capture some shots of me killing myself on a scrambler!