Haiti Part 2: Captain James (Good Morning Motherf**ker)

Guest Post by James 

Port Morgan, Ile a Vache

Close your eyes and think of Haiti. What do you see?

Most likely images of poverty, destruction, crime, among others. From the water, what you see are the lush green mountains from which the country gets its name and the beautiful towns along the coast. Leaving the northern town of Labadee, we sailed west through the Canal de la Tortue,

surrounded by mountains and villages, and traditional wooden sailboats which use oars for propulsion when the wind is not favourable. This was the case for the next two and half days, during which we would round the northern cape, enter the Windward Passage separating Haiti and Cuba, and round the southern cape towards our next destination, Isle a Vache. Since we have no oars on our "modern" boat, it was up to the engine to get us there. Also our autopilot decided it had had enough somewhere around Turks and Caicos so it was all hand-steering. With the rumble of the engine to help us sleep a bit we motored on south. It was great to be travelling this stretch with another boat as there was very little traffic around and nice to have someone to talk to on the radio in the wee hours of the morning. We did get a low flyover from a US Coast Guard chopper that either (a) was especially bored (b) thought we were dreadfully lost or (c) thought our bilge was loaded with top grade meth.

Canal de la Tortue

With Isle a Vache finally in sight and the epic journey almost finished, the engine gave up with a mile to go - the tank was dry! We added a couple of gallons from the jerry cans we keep for just such an occasion and got ready to anchor in the town of Port Morgan.

Entrance to Ile a Vache

Port Morgan, named after the delightful Captain Morgan the Welsh pirate, is a small village surrounding a tiny, protected, and deep anchorage. The villagers have the distinct advantage of being able to spot arriving boats from the top of the hill on the island. When they do, what seems like the entire village paddles out to greet said boat, offering introductions, general knowledge, and of course goods and services: boat cleaning, polishing, diesel, gas, water, guide around the village, flags, taking you to customs to check in, home-cooked meals, Haitian art, laundry, fish, lobster, conch, or even a chicken with its head already removed. When the crew of said boat hasn't really slept in over 48 hours, this can all seem a little overwhelming. Nevertheless, we tried our best to keep track of names and who got there first (this is important because if you pass up the first person who approached you to buy from the second person it is in very bad taste!).

Getting some professional assistance with our motor! 

Besides meeting most of the village in under 30 minutes, the other cool part of this encounter was the preferred mode of solo transportation: the dugout canoe.

Dugout Canoe

Many residents of Port Morgan own (or borrow) a canoe made of an 8-10' section of hollowed out mango tree, painted to their liking. Add a palm frond paddle and a pop bottle bailer (a necessity since the canoes are constantly leaking) and you're all set. We had the good fortune of seeing one of these beauties being carved; our friend Michael had the good fortune of taking one for a test drive and immediately capsizing - apparently they take some practice!

We asked everyone to come back and see us later after we had slept a bit. And they did! Again and again and again until we knew everyone's name and they knew ours: Captain James and Kate. They would wish us "good sleepin'" at night and ask us how we slept in the morning when they came back and started calling "James, James, Captain James, Captain, Captain, hello, hello" until I came out. We became such good friends with one of the teenage boys that on the third morning he wished me "Good morning Motherfucker!" with a huge grin on his face. I had to explain that even though maybe he heard this word in some English song lyrics it's not the nicest way to greet someone if you're trying to sell them your boat cleaning services. I don't think he believed me.


It was certainly difficult to have to turn down most of the villagers that offered us goods and services. In their eyes, if you are white than you are wealthy and if you are white and arrive on a sailboat than you are extremely wealthy!!  There is not a lot of steady work in the area, unfortunately, so tourism is a small but important source of income for many of the islanders.

One of the services we did use was a guide for the island's twice-weekly market in the nearby town of Madame Bernard.

Fresh market produce

This large outdoor market sold everything from sandals, to toothpaste, to medication, to mangoes, to fish and meat that may or may not have been lying around in the sun for a couple of days. Unfortunately there had just been a massive downpour so the ground was extremely muddy making for some squishy browsing. After some time walking around I decided to put that grade 11 French into some use to do some bargaining, sans guide. After securing a deal that my teachers would be proud of (4 bottles of Prestige for two dollars), the guide strolled over and all of a sudden the price was $80! I had to walk away from that one.

Mdme Bernard Market

Near the market was an orphanage run by a nun from Quebec. Soeur Flora took time out of her busy schedule to chat with us and show us around. Many of the children have health issues that unfortunately could have and still can be prevented with modern medicine and hygiene.

Orphanage on Ile a Vache

 The next day Kate and I made the two-hour-each-way walk back to the orphanage to bring a handful of supplies from our first-aid kit and some clothing. This walk turned out to be the highlight of Isle a Vache: a long windy path through all of the villages around the island from beaches to farmland. We took in the sights, smells, and sounds of a snapshot of life in an afternoon in rural Haiti. Young men working in the fields, women braiding each other's hair, a boy getting his first lesson on how to ride a moped, laundry being hung out, fishing boats being repaired, dinner being prepared, the sounds of Creole emanating from every small house or yard. And everyone with a "bonswa" or "salut" and a smile for "Les Blancs". Especially the little kids walking home from school together that would call out to us - one of them would get up the courage to touch our white arms or give us a high-five, then they would all do it before running away squealing with delight. When I close my eyes and think of Haiti I will remember that afternoon. It was wonderful.

Mango trees everywhere!

On our last day Kate cut my hair on the beach. This drew quite the curious crowd of adults and children who found the event very fascinating. The ladies kept pointing out when hair had fallen on my back and the children were trying to catch pieces of hair blowing in the wind. There was a lot of laughing! In the early hours of the next morning we pulled the anchor up. It was time to move on.

Traditional sailing boats used for fishing and transit