There are a few places as perfectly suited to starting a commune as Dominica. Everything grows here, except apples. Fish swim in circles. You could toss a seed on Tuesday and have a tree by Friday (for my literal/science friends, this is likely an exaggeration). Yet when you’re driving down the road and every tree you passed bares fruit and nuts, you have an opportunity like no other. Farmland runs along the mountainside in a way I’ve never seen. There are no need for terraces; literally the farms run vertically up the sides of mountains. The soil is so rich, it needs no care other than the cross-fertilization and prudent planting of symbiotic species. 
Hot water bath for Che
We had a lovely sail from the Saints down to Dominica. Upwind, 7 to 8 kn of speed, breeze 15 to 20 and all on the boat were settled in nicely. We were met by Lawrence of Arabia just outside the largest bay I’ve seen in the Caribbean. Friendly and helpful, the boatsman led us to our mooring in Portsmouth and helped us to tie our lines. We arranged for a river tour in the morning. 
Justin cleared us in and we set about the task of dinghying ashore to have some drinks. This often involves many requests/commands repeated over and over and till at last we have three children in the dinghy and can let loose the tie. I will never understand why it is so difficult to get our kids to leave the boat and go to shore. After spending all day and typically the previous night with no land beneath their feet, they seem to have no desire to leave the confines of a rather small space.
View from anchor in Roseau
Roseau from high on the hill
Our 7:30 river tour came early for all but Quinn and myself. They motivated quickly however and all hopped into Lawrence of Arabia’s boat. The turn into the river was marked by a crane perched precariously on the edge of land, several boats loosely tied to a small bridge, and a quayside dock where locals waved and yelled to our tour guide. Once we crossed under the bridge, we were quickly immersed in an extremely tranquil and peaceful place. Egrets, Green-backed Herons, White Herons, Fly catchers, sandpipers, and hummingbirds took their sweet time fishing or resting along the river’s edge. We heard the call of the Rednecked Dove but could never see them. In Dominica, anything that moves will get eaten. The dove has its hunting season and while in season you can’t find them, but when not in season, their calls mock the hunters.
We passed an old railroad bridge from the early 1900s. Nature long reclaimed its territory and the concrete and metal forms twisted into an always growing mangrove. The man-made structure hut from scenes of the Pirates of the Caribbean II stood eerily in the stillness of an ever shallowing river. Our guide brought us to a bar carved into the gardens and natural river reserve. As it was rather early, even by our standards, we took a nice walking tour of the grounds.
Enbravened, we rented a car and took to the roads of Dominica. Guadalupe perhaps spoiled us but the roads in Dominica are a lost art: Nature’s competing artistic talent versus a constantly defeated engineering desire. The road crews were out. Community driven, resources few, the men held shovels and wheelbarrows, and patched together roads with a variety of rock, sand and concrete. 
Volcanic vents mix boiling water and cold river
Intrepid jungle hikers
Our rental car struggled its way up through the mountains and around the northern side of the island. At times, the road would narrow blindly to a skinny car’s width. The constant turning, angling and ascending led us through the most amazing agricultural beauty. We relied on the iPhone’s Google maps to lead us to the pools of Chaudiere.
We hiked along the agricultural farms, with signs advising to two years of internment should we take a fruit, and a rather silly mess of kids to switch from outrageous enthusiasm to languid display of bodily function. When confusion seemed all but the current path, always a sign with an arrow was available. That is not to say that our decision to pull over said rental car and park along a rather drastic cliff was taken lightly. Much like the parenting questions that Justin throws my way, such as “Is this normal?!”, the way to the pools was not necessarily a clear and directioned path.
Boulders and clear cold water brought their reward. A small but extremely powerful waterfall descended into a deep pool, full of a swift current. Justin taught the kids a quick lesson on eddies and they were delighted to ride the gushing stream and swim back for more. Despite Quinn’s threats to remain on the side of the road on the long walk back to the car, we opted not to leave him.
Tired and hungry, we arrived back at Madame Geneva only to have the generator die. Yachting offers such luxury…often when you have just one wee problem, it turns into many. For us, the generator literally dying meant not only that the water we were planning on making didn’t happen. Dishes and laundry were piling up, promised showers were abandoned and brushing teeth required a bottle (no sharing, so five bottles). Luckily we still had our stock of drinking water that we made. But this also meant no ac. I know that many people live this life without ac, but to me it had the added feeling of discomfort because that meant kids sleeping in the salon where the hatches were open. And although the people of Dominica had been very friendly, there had been some warnings about leaving your boat open (granted in the “unprotected” area; we were moored in the security zone of PAYS) and my imagination kept me up far more than the heat did.
We headed down to Roseau the next morning. Although it was Sunday, there were marine services there and we could likely get distilled water (as the generator needed coolant). We realized we still had the key to the rental car about an hour into our trip down the coast so that added a level of complexity.
This time upon approach, we encountered Seacat. He led us to a mooring in front of a rather rickety dinghy dock. Oddly that was one of the better dinghy docks available. We arranged a rain forest tour for the next day and went about getting ourselves organized for a walk into town and lunch.
Driven more by hunger then by interest, the kids follow the instruction in walking single file down a narrow road with two way traffic and cars often parked on whatever sidewalk was available. Sundays are a quiet day but that simply meant most places were closed. People sat on their porches or stood idly about in small groups. We found our way past the tornup shacks and rough and worn wooden buildings along the waterfront and ended up by contrast in a completely renovated old fort, now hotel and restaurant. Situated across from the Governor’s house and Anglican Church, Fort Young offered a civilized entry to Roseau.
Fed and satiated, we headed back to the boat (coolant picked up along the way) to finish up our work on the generator. Justin replaced the oil and filter and added coolant but after she started…she died. Unfortunately we had to wait until morning to investigate further as we narrowed down the issue to the sea cock. Sure enough when Justin dove in the next day, he pulled out what seemed to be a Christmas tree.
Sandys bar, Prince Rupert Bay
And this time when we arrived back at Madame Geneva, we really were able to embrace the many conveniences of a working generator. I never knew I would be so happy to wash dishes. Laundry be damned.
Much love and stay tuned.