Saint Martin during high season- the loudest island we’ve encountered. I want to remember the place by the sounds we heard- the ones we loved and the ones we were glad to leave behind. So, for your enjoyment- a day in sounds at anchor in Simpson Bay.
At 7:03am, if we aren’t up and about yet, we are awoken by the first plane taking off. Some government department somewhere has tried to limit the noise pollution by having a short time of day when the planes aren’t taking off and landing, but it is at most 7 hours, and sometimes as little as 5 hours long if a plane is late arriving. The airport is less than 1 mile away, and the commercial flights blast off right off over us as they climb into the sky at full power. We have become accustomed to stopping conversation and holding up a finger, indicating that we will continue once this plane passes. This happens anywhere between 30-40 times a day-not including private aircraft. I wish I could say we got used to it- but I simply did not. By the end I was pathetically covering my ears with my hands in despair.
At 7:30am, Monday-Saturday “the net” comes on our VHF radio, channel 10. The Net host for the past 20 years has been Mike at Shrimpy’s laundry, a former cruiser who now runs a Laundry and Yacht services business in Marigot on the French side. The Net is our hyper local news source for liveaboard boat people, which includes the weather, safety and security, things for sale, general information, and anything newsworthy of note. Any person with a VHF radio can call in. We leave our radio on Channel 10 all day, so we can hear if any other boat is hailing us (this could be friends, neighbors, etc). The net lasts about 10-20 minutes, longer on days when the neighbors are feeling especially chatty or something of discussion is coming up (mention mooring fees on the French side and sit back for a 10 min tirade).
The next sounds we frequently hear are the music that blasts from the booze cruises which pass us by on their way out to find the sexier beaches. Their decks are usually covered in red skinned, ample people fresh off the cruise ship or the latest commercial flight. This group is followed closely by people on rental jet skis and the accompanying manic screaming. A note about people on jet skis; the vast majority try to amaze their dates by doing doughnuts off the stern of our boat while I sit by idly reading a book and refusing to look at them, or truly, trying not to shake my fists at them. By this time of the day, we are off to the races for noises as they begin to jumble together. Dogs barking on the beach; music from the beach clubs; people laughing in the waves; 4 stroke outboards vrooming by; coast guard announcements on the radio; neighbors talking, laughing, and arguing on their boats; waves splashing the hulls in the swell, all of our possessions rocking back and forth and occasionally falling over if we are waked enough. Once a sound begins for the day, it continues until at least sunset.
Although all of these sounds jumble together throughout the day there are a few that cut through the actual noise and alert our brains. Mega-Yatch’s laying on their horns while entering or existing the bridge will always get Paul up and looking landward. A deep breath that seems out of place will also attract both Paul and my attention. It is usually a sea turtle coming up for air next to our boat but once was a pair of dolphins hunting/playing in the shallows of Simpson bay.
As the sun goes down, there is a short window of time that feels quieter than the rest of the day, before the noise picks back up again with great urgency. I like to listen to the birds putting themselves to bed on the back of Snoopy island, flying in low and ruffling their feathers, squawking over favorite roosts. They are asleep and quiet by dark, and miraculously stay asleep until morning.
We can tell which day of the week it is by what type of music is blaring from the Soggy Dollar Bar. Tuesdays, Latin Night- we hear dance music until past 3 in the morning. The music is so clear and travels so well, we can hear people making requests to the DJ. “Happy Birthday Chance! Here’s your PITBULL”. There is also the Red Diamond strip club, the Nowhere special bar, the Roxy Beach Club, and others too numerous to name, each with their own competing party. There is no “last call” hour per se, so the party goes until the people deem it done. We boat people, so attuned to the ocean, the weather, the sunrise and the sunset schedule (9pm is called “Cruisers midnight”), are often confused by the light emanating from the clubs at 3 am.
Once the music stops, we have a few hours of quiet until the planes start again, and we are up, brewing coffee and listening to our morning net, getting ready for another day in Saint Martin.
Resonantly yours,
Paul and Lindsay
TIBURON MARINO 