For the last almost week, we’ve been exploring the windward side of Martinique with our buddies on Enki. There’s an off-lying reef system that provides shelter from the wind and waves; once you get inside that reef, it’s a fabulous cruising ground of flat water and endless nooks and crannies to tuck into. We’d first heard about it from our friends Ted and Claudia on Happiness, currently based in Nanny Cay, Tortola. Ted raved about it, sending us to the charts and our ancient cruising guides to see what we could find. We’re talking about south of the peninsula called Presqu’ile de la Caravelle you can see on this map.

A note about cruising guides. These are printed books that contain lots of information about a specific cruising area. This used to be the only way you could learn ahead of time about things like customs procedures, where to find water or fuel, or even some cultural or historic information about a place. Nowadays with the almighty internet and even (gasp) Facebook groups, cruising guides and their information, especially with things like COVID or hurricanes completely demolishing norms and standards, are often out of date even before the printing press stops running. What does not change, though, is the general geography. For this reason, our favorite guides for off-the-beaten path kind of cruising is our old (1990 vintage) Don Street guides. Even when those guides were current, they reflected his own predilection for gunkholing as opposed to extolling the virtues of the latest and greatest restaurant (i.e. the one that paid him the most money). Our feeling on cruising guides is that old ones are just fine. You’ll get current important information by talking to other cruisers currently in the area, or by hopping onto the relevant Facebook group and asking there.

We stuck around Saint Anne, Martinique, for a few days longer than we might have, hoping the weather would shift enough to allow us to access the east coast without facing horrific swells and stiff directly-on-the-nose wind. The reward was not-enough days of amazing sailing, flat anchorages, and some pretty cool spots far removed from the party-like atmosphere of a few hundred boats on the leeward side.

Lest this sound like perfect paradise, I will say that a couple of the anchorages are well-known to the day charter cat and jet-ski crowd. We suffered through the scourge (our name for jet skis of any number) for the afternoon hours, enjoyed the calm overnight, and made sure to leave when we heard the first annoying buzzing the next morning. If you, dear reader, are a jet ski enthusiast, may I ask that you please stay far away from any anchored boats? Thank you. We’re not as enamored of your close inspection as you think we are. Still, the uninhabited nature of the anchorages was incredible. We heard birds sing for the first time since Dominica!

Our first stop was a river-ish anchorage called Ile Petite Grenade. It reminded me a lot of Chesapeake river spots, up to and including the not-so-blue water and the incredible mud that needed to be cleaned off the anchor chain in the morning. The flat calm was welcome after rolly nights in St Anne; the sheer number of fast speed boats filled with tourists and the jet skis were a downside. The last speed boat zoomed past, throwing a wake that had me lunging for a wine glass before it could spill, just after dark. The boat had no lights on it at all. We left our Luci light on in the cockpit overnight.

The next day, mindful of the competing interests of needing to move north but wanting to see as much of this area as we could, we sailed to Baignoir de Josephine for lunch and then on to a second spot for the evening. Again, tourist boats have discovered at least our lunch spot; this time, though, people were less interested in seeing how close they could get to where we were anchored. There are a few moorings around but the other 2 boats were anchored; we think the moorings are marking an underwater cable of sorts. Our second anchorage was inside an area we dubbed “the snake”, so called because of the excellent reef threading we needed to do to get there. Good visibility is important.

Meanwhile, we’d been sharing dinners together most nights, trading off which boat hosted. Enki’s dinghy is a beautiful PT 11, a wooden rowing and sailing dinghy that nests for storage and fits in a tidy bundle on the coach roof. We were towing Roti and so were the taxi between the boats. Easy easy. We were all feeling the need to cherish every second of time we could spend together, since it was quickly coming to an end.

After a long time not appreciating the virtues of rhum agricole, Jeremy’s hit on his favorite drink, the often-mentioned Ti Punch. He picked up a bottle of Rhum JM 55 on a whim (I think he liked the shape of the bottle), and this combined with the sirop-de-canne-de-sucre from Trois Riviere, plus a generous slice of the local lime (which looks like a warty small orange about to be fit for the compost bin) is quickly becoming the sundowner of choice. We’d left the grocery stores of Saint Anne long behind. Jamie, who’d spent almost 2 months in Guadeloupe, let us know that we couldn’t find Martinique rhum agricole on that island. A quick trip to the grocery store, to stock up on Rhum JM 55, was definitely in order. 

Some research revealed that the owner of Rhum JM was conveniently also the owner of Carrefour. And there was a Carrefour in Le Francois, just a few miles astern of us on the east coast. Oooh, cool - Google satellite view showed a canal that led right to the parking lot of the store. Clearly our day’s schedule was set.

I’m not sure what your usual grocery run involves when you live on land, but I’d hazard a guess it doesn’t include researching where the store is, figuring out how close you can park to it, and moving your entire house to get closer to the store before you even start talking about the car. We wove our way back through the reefs under jib alone, marveling at the flat water and good sailing. An hour later, we dropped the hook close to the canal in Le Francois, our bows facing out toward the far-off reef. We grabbed grocery bags, picked up Jamie and SunYoung, and headed into the canal. Jeremy dropped us off and said he’d be back in 45 minutes or so. (The only drawback to getting this close with the dinghy is that there’s no place to leave said dinghy, unlike the town dock that’s a mile walk to the store.)

Checking out local grocery stores and markets is one of my favorite pastimes when traveling, whether on land or especially when cruising. You learn a lot about a place by looking at both availability and price of certain items: you can find Ritz crackers almost anywhere, for example, but continuing to stock those outside of the US will cost you a pretty penny. Switch to Wibisco (West Indian Biscuit Company) options or Lu crackers for a new taste and a less expensive way to get your crunch! Here in the Eastern Caribbean I love the different kinds of bananas, the way even grocery stores (as opposed to only the fresh markets) sell a tied-together bunch of herbs and leeks (for soup), the crunchy christophene, and the fact that eggs are never sold in the refrigerator case.

Back to the shopping. Fully stocked on Rhum JM, fresh veggies, and even a hot-off-the-spit rotisserie chicken, we lugged our loot back to the riverbank where Jamie found a dead palm frond to help keep us from sinking into the mud as we loaded stuff into the dinghy. The cruiser’s version of avoiding the rain puddle in the parking lot?

Then it was up anchor and sail upwind to Baie de Tresor, a gorgeous mangrove idyll that is truly well-named. There’s a little beach behind some small reef inside the bay, a lighthouse on the hill overhead, and a trail system that unfortunately we couldn’t take the time to explore. Enki as of today, Tuesday (5 more days) is still there, reveling in solitude, checking out the beach and trails, and just enjoying the beauty.

The east side of Martinique is a gem. We’re just sorry we had only 4 nights there.