UNION ISLAND, The Grenadines

Clifton's Waterfront The town of Clifton on Union Island was eerily quiet for a Sunday afternoon. We've found that it is not unusual for businesses to be closed on Sunday mornings, but grocers, restaurants, and bars are routinely open by 1 PM. A man relaxing in the cool shade of a wild almond tree heartily welcomed us to the island and informed us that everyone had gone to attend the funeral of a local custom's agent who recently died in the line of duty. The whole island plus ferry boats full of people from other Grenadine Islands came to mourn the loss of one of their own. Just another example of how small and closely knit is the fabric of the Grenadine Islands. We met Tiger Lilly along the way and started to wander up the deserted streets. A drenching rain began to fall and Captain Dan & I sought shelter in Jennifer's Bar & Restaurant. Lilly & Tom marched on up the hill and smack into the middle of the funeral procession. They slowed their pace and were so taken with the display of sincere communal mourning that they stayed to attend the entire service. The islanders were dressed very formally, yet they warmly encompassed our friends who respectfully joined their funeral procession dressed casually in their usual cruiser attire.* Nurse Shark in tank at resort The anchorage in the bay at Clifton was a little unnerving as vessels have to maneuver between two quite visible reefs and drop a hook in exactly the right place, setting it well in order to ensure it stays put.  We did so and the captain snorkeled on the anchor to be sure.  But the first mate didn’t sleep well at all listening to the constant trade winds and the surf rushing over the coral at our bow and stern.  We stayed there only one night. View from windy mountain top Chatham Bay is tucked into the western coast of Union Island. We spent a few days there after it was recommended to us by our Polish cruiser friends Chris & Gosia, s/v Aldebaran. It is a quiet anchorage with a few restaurants that only open if reservations are made. One day we set out to hike the path indicated in our guidebook. Eldon, a local fisherman, saw us searching and backtracking, so he introduced himself and led us to the trail. The hike was more of a climb over rocks, around barrel cacti, and through a sheep pasture. The view from the top of the mountain was exhilarating and the wind was strong enough to tip us backward onto our heels. And then we met BUSHMAN. Bushman was the caretaker of a Frenchman's farm that was situated at the top of mountain. He said that although the property was privately owned, we were welcome to walk around or picnic there. The farm was the cleanest farm I've ever visited. Bushman seemed thoroughly enthused to tell us all about the animals and gardens. Certainly, our interaction with the local folks are among the most memorable on our travels and liming for a bit with Bushman. Pretty clean, huh?

 

*For Tiger Lilly’s in depth account read http://www.sailblogs.com/member/tigerlilly/