May 05, 2007
Cooper Island to Hodges Creek Marina
I slept like an angel, first in the cockpit, then at some dark hour I made it below. I woke, remarkably refreshed, at 5am. It was still dark, and I had to turn on a light to make coffee. Shortly before 7, Chis surfaced. We had breakfast, a swim, and readied ourselves for the return.
We compared notes. Was it sadness? Longing? Yearning? We were quiet, not especially chatty. We found ourselves dropping the mooring about an hour before we planned. We decided to sail, in whatever whisper of wind was blowing. And it was a whisper. We rolled along at barely 3 knots downwind, enjoying every last peaceful second of the end of this chapter. I couldn't bare making our final jounrey under motor. It just seemed fitting to sail. And we did. And it was magical.
We tied up at the marina, cleared off the boat, and seconds later they took Santana away to get cleaned up for the next crowd.
We hopped in a taxi to Long Bay Hotel and once finally there, we were despondent. We sat through lunch, quiet. I didn't want to talk about it. We found some chairs under the shade of a big palm tree and fell asleep. Deeply asleep. We couldn't explain why we so drained. The sun? The wind? The thought of returning to the City on Crack? We walked the beach, we swam, we snoozed, we walked the beach. Like we were pacing. Anxious.
Perhaps we have grown again, gained more confidence, alerted our instincts to a calling. I don't remember a vacation that left me feeling quite like this. I wish I could explain it.
The most valuable lessons in life are the ones you don't see until much later. Then you wonder why you didn't see it at the time. Life is full of precious moments, and few embed themselves so deeply to overwhelm the senses. This was one. This was magic. This was us.
Life is beautiful.
Posted by dave at 03:56 PM | Comments (0)
May 04, 2007
Cooper Island
Posted by dave at 11:23 PM | Comments (0)
Swimming with the Dinghy
Posted by dave at 08:17 PM | Comments (0)
Norman Island to Cooper Island
The sun is just peaking up over the hills surrounding the anchorage, and people are beginning to stir. Sunrise reminds me of our overnight sails, where the sunlight finally took away the menacing chill of darkness, when we could see the horizon again, land if we were near it, and all those things we could have hit but could not see. Like containers that fall off the ships. And whales that sleep just beneath the surface.
Chis was up before 7 this morning, which never happens. We had coffee and a bit of breakfast, and decided to make hay. The Bight was emptying out quickly. It was like someone fired a starter's pistol.
We got away on a second exodus. We rounded out around the leeward side of the Indians, a rugged rock upcropping, sacrificing a bit of distance for deeper water. Besides, the further from the islands, the more likely we would find some wind. The winds had dropped to about 10 knots from the 15-20 knots it has been blowing since we arrived on Saturday. We were right. We were on a lovely close-hauled starboard tack when we started to notice an intense squall building to the south of us. Tacking would put us right in the middle of it. We decided to stay as far from the storm as possible. It paid off. We got clipped by winds on the edge of the storm, but nothing hair-raising. We slapped a reef in the jib until the winds subsided, then shook the reef out.
We had a wonderful sail, tacking a couple of times to give way to other boats. We arrived at the Cooper Island anchorage shortly before noon. The jib sheet caught around the deck brush that was lashed to the rail. We didn't see it, and wailed on the sheet until the brush handle snapped in two, sending the brush overboard, and the handle inboard. No injuries (except for the brush). In hindsight, it was a stupid place to put it.
After going ashore to the Cooper Island Beach Club for some lunch, we finished our books, and sat mid-ships watching the sunset, contemplating life. We talked about having a boat on Long Island Sound, or buying one through Sunsail and putting it out on charter. Or returning to live-aboard living. One thing is for sure - the sea is in our blood. And we are blessed that neither of us suffers from mal-de-mer. And most importantly, we can do this and not kill each other. If a relationship can survive, and growm living together is a small space, testing the limits of communication, and respecting each other's strenghts while supporting each other's weaknesses, that is something truly special.
We watched a large power boat leave the anchorage shortly before sunset. "He" was driving. "She" was reading, or putting on sunscreen, or sipping her martini, or whatever, oblivious to her necessary role as lookout, or safety person, or whatever. He roared out, went up-island a ways, then circled back past the anchorage. He wasn't planing, so he kicked up a huge wake, sending everyone in the anchorage into a series of rolls. Boys and their toys. He wais obviously compensating for something. He may have a small penis, but he has a HUGE carbon footprint!
Posted by dave at 08:16 PM | Comments (0)
Chis Cleaning Up, The Bight, Norman Island
Posted by dave at 08:08 PM | Comments (0)
The Indians, off Norman Island
Posted by dave at 03:35 PM | Comments (0)
May 03, 2007
Soper's Hole to The Bight, Norman Island
The roosters woke me this morning. Then the barking dogs. No spectacular sunrise to admire this morning because of the big gray rain clouds scooting across the hills.
I hopped in the dinghy and whipped into the marina office to check weather. What a surprise. East winds 15-20 knots, scattered rain. The weather here is so predictable with the trade winds. We dropped the mooring shortly after some heavy rain, and set off for The Bight on Norman Island. It used to be a busy anchorage, because of the famous Willy T, an old permanently moored schooner-turned-bar, where women who leap off the second deck into the water, sans-top, receive a free Willy T thong. Whatever. Word has it there are no more free thongs. They wouldn't fit me anyway.
It was a magical sail. With 20 knots on the nose, we pinched as close to the wind as we could. The boat surprises me with her agility at 40 degrees to the wind. However, with way too much weather helm, we shortened sails to keep her from griping up into the wind and dragging the rudder. We topped 7 knots, and had a blast tacking up the Francis Drake Channel between the south shore of Tortola and the strong of smaller islands to Tortola's south.
One of the cupboards in the galley flew open as we heeled. Spaghetti went flying everywhere.
We passed a catamaran motoring in 20 knot winds. It was called Merlin. I yelled "Hey Merlin, show us your magic". He carried on motoring. He probably couldn't hear me over the sound of the engine.
We arrived at the anchorage well before noon, put the boat to bed, read for a bit, had some lunch, and went ashore to explore. We discovered a charter boat full of very burned, very drunk people making complete fools of themselves in a very quiet little spot on the beach called Pirate's. We chose a spot a little ways from them, and enjoyed the breeze, and the soca music, which sadly had strange sound effects mixed in. Like cell phone ringtones and fog horns. Not my kind of music.
We made reservations for dinner, and returned to the boat for a swim, a snooze, and some reading. After a much needed shower, we went back to Pirate's for dinner. It was wonderful, complete with a steel drum band. The restaurant is a simple post and beam structure, painted white. They have allowed people to write all over the posts - mostly boat names, crew names, little figures, funny little sayings. Consistently written in black, the names blurred together after a while.
The effort was a poor cousin to the Chat'n'Chill in George Town, Great Exuma Island in the Bahamas. It is a shack on the beach, only a few tables (three I think), with t-shirts hanging from the ceiling like sails. It's kitchy, quirky and completely unique. We realized the difference - the t-shirts were from boats and crew that had sailed much more than the Bahamas. There is good reason they call George Town "Chicken Harbour". This is live-aboard cruiser territory. Pirate's is charter-boat territory. One week or two, here to take it all in the little slice of time they selected to be here. It's a different state of mind. We talked about how many charterers were former live-aboards. Chis guessed 2%. I might have guessed slightly more.
Whatever the case is, we're happy to be here, excited about having mastered an unfamiliar boat, and we've already started a list of things we would do differently next time. I miss the live-aboard life, and this has put the bug back. But with our departure looming, I also miss New York.
Posted by dave at 03:10 PM | Comments (0)
Tall Ship Picton Castle, Francis Drake Channel
Posted by dave at 01:30 PM | Comments (0)
May 02, 2007
Sailorman Chis, Cane Garden Bay
Posted by dave at 03:32 PM | Comments (0)
Cane Garden Bay to Jost Van Dyke, er... Soper’s Hole
This morning, I cannot find my specs. Just last night, Chis was saying I needed new ones. It seems he doesn’t like the paper clip that holds the right arm together at the hinge. The screw fell out on the Atlantic crossing, and I just haven’t bothered to replace it. I make do. I am becoming my grandfather. Maybe Chis hid them, forcing me to finally deal with the paper clip.
I look across to Jost Van Dyke and a massive squall to the north out to sea. Another one seems to be forming over Tortola. I’ll run some garbage ashore, and by the time I return, Chis will likely have woken. Four days left, three days in, and I feel like we’ve been doing this forever. I don’t feel rushed or in a hurry.
We dropped the mooring shortly after 10 and set the jib for a leisurely 5 mile sail downwind to Little Harbour on Jost Van Dyke. We chose the least popular of the three anchorages on the island, opting to hike to the famous Foxy’s Bar. We reached the entrance, and spotted only one boat, and another leaving. The wind was out of the southeast, exposing the anchorage to swells, and the one boat that remained was rolling like a ping-pong ball in a washing machine. We carried on down the island to check the other two anchorages, and they were just as bad.
Plan B: Back to Cane Garden Bay, now a beat into increasing winds. Well, we wanted to sail. We had a wonderful sail, until we reached the anchorage to discover it jam packed.
Plan C: Soper’s Hole. A downwind/ beam-reach right down the lee short of Tortola. 25 knots winds became 5 knots. After countless sail configurations, we turned on the engine. We arrived in Soper’s Hole to find plenty of choice moorings.
It was a long day in the end, full of disappointments, a jammed main halyard, fluky winds, and an aborted hike to Foxy’s. We have been to Foxy’s before, and frankly it was the hike I looked most forward to. We’ll go next time.
We opted for beef stir-fry for dinner instead of barbeque. The wind is just too strong. Besides, I feel for the owner of the new Oyster moored just behind us. They would be none-too-impressed to find ash all over their decks.
Posted by dave at 03:06 PM | Comments (0)
May 01, 2007
Laughing Gulls, Cane Garden Bay
Posted by dave at 08:14 PM | Comments (0)
Cane Garden Bay
Posted by dave at 08:13 PM | Comments (0)
Drying Out, Cane Garden Bay
Up before the sun again this morning, I watched the sun rise over the hills of Tortola, and enjoyed watching people pop up from below decks to see if anything changed, or to remind themselves of where they are. Like groundhogs.
Today, we plan a short trip up the north side of Tortola to a place called Cane Garden Bay. This was a favourite spot of ours on our last trip. It tends to be a bit noisy with the bands on the beach, so we will choose a spot well off the shore. There are a few reefs for snorkeling, some good restaurants, a wonderful beach, and a couple of little shops.
The wind is not calming down, and the clouds are getting flatter on the bottom. I don’t expect this wind to drop much. It’s blowing 25 knots this morning, which is wonderful, but probably too much for Santana. I think we’ll put a reef in both sails today.
After Sam’s Anything Goes Omelet (me) and pancakes (Chis) at Pisces, we stopped into the grocery for shower soap and headed back to the boat. A big storm had been forming over the island, and the top had now been sheared off. It was time to go. Once clear of land, we set the main with one reef, and set the jib. We were galloping along beautifully when the first of the 30 knot gusts put the boat right on her ear. Santana likes 15-20 knots – anything more makes her cranky. Sailing the lee of these islands is never easy, with gusts and shifty winds. The mountains do all sorts of weird things to the winds blowing all the way across the Atlantic from Africa.
We arrived at the anchorage at Cane Garden Bay just as a squall hit. It was short and quick, and we got plenty soaked picking up the mooring. We got the boat put to bed just as the second, much larger squall descended down the mountain into the bay. This one had strong winds, heavy rain, and much reduced visibility. We sat in the cockpit, soaking wet, watching long threads of rain descend in front of the backdrop of the lush green mountains. The rain seemed to pause just above the surface of the water, just long enough for the wind to come and move it horizontally. It was a beautiful storm to wacth.
It finally passed by mid-afternoon, and we went ashore to explore. We spotted a leatherback turtle on our way. We walked the beach and pondered the river of rain water that had carved its way through the beach. There was a woman with a shovel filling in one of the rivers that by now was dry. A dog lay nearby rolling in the sand. I said to the dog “Hey, you’re not being much help”. The woman laughed. Of course, I could have said the same thing to myself. In our former lives as live-aboards, I would have offered. But with precious few days, priorities are priorities. Spoiled rotten.
We returned to the boat, and read our books. Chis is reading Elizabeth George’s newest book “With No One as Witness”. I am reading Carl Hiassen’s “Lucky You”. Shortly before sunset, I gathered our clothes from nature’s dryer and paused to watch the sunset and do a little yoga. After dinner, we lounged in the cockpit and listened to the music wafting off the beach, listened to the wind and the water burbling around the boat, pondered tomorrow’s journey, and fell asleep under the stars.
Posted by dave at 08:12 PM | Comments (0)
Galley Wench, Cane Garden Bay
Posted by dave at 08:07 PM | Comments (0)
April 30, 2007
Cooper Island to Soper's Hole
I sit with my coffee in the cockpit shortly after 6am. I look across to Tortola, and can make out the masts of the boats in the marina from where we came yesterday. The sun is beginning to kiss the peaks of the tall hills. Today, we plan to go to Soper’s Hole on the west end of Tortola. It is not a long journey, so I won’t hasten to wake Chis. I’ll pour another cup of coffee, grab my book, and contemplate life.
After a super-healthy breakfast of fresh fruit and bagels, we had a swim, shaved and showered. We sat in the cockpit and watched the morning exodus of boats from the anchorage. Probably half of the boats are chartered like ours, so it’s hard to tell one Beneteau from another. Around 10am, we decided to head out. This trip, about 11 miles as the crow flies, has the wind dead astern. We tried a couple of things with the sails, and determined that a series of deep broad-reach gibes was the rule for the day. This would add about 3 miles to the journey, so we expected a mid-afternoon arrival. It was a beautiful sail. Compared to yesterday, beating into a stiff headwind, this was a pleasant downwind sail. A little pokey, but who’s in a rush?
We picked up a mooring shortly before 2, tidied the lines, and hopped in the dinghy to go ashore. Following a light lunch on the dock, we wandered through the little shops, bought some ice, and headed back to the boat for reading, snoozing, and sunset watching.
For those who followed our Platina journey, Soper’s Hole is the place where we left the boat to go to Chis’ sister, Kate, and Ian’s wedding in May 2005. It hasn’t changed much. There are three entrances to this little harbour, and last night we realized that we have been through each of them at least once. Most memorable is the middle entrance, through which we left the Virgin Islands to sail to Puerto Rico.
The winds picked up after dinner, and shortly after, a series of squalls. Wind, heavy rain, no wind … wind, heavy rain, no wind … and so it went through the night. The good news is that it rinsed all the salt off the boat. The bad news – the dinghy is now a bathtub. We will have to bail it out – otherwise it will be like dragging a dead body.
Posted by dave at 02:37 PM | Comments (0)
April 29, 2007
Peter Island from Cooper Island
Posted by dave at 08:18 PM | Comments (0)
Cooper Island Anchorage
Posted by dave at 08:11 PM | Comments (0)
Hodges Creek Marina to Cooper Island
I woke early in the morning, immediately back to my ritual of waking with the sun. I had packed our favourite coffee and set myself to the task of making some. The boat has a percolator, which I haven’t used since I was a kid at the cottage. The propane stove was a challenge, but at last, sweet nectar of the morning. I sat in the cockpit watching the big white clouds blow by, and the waves crashing on the reef just outside the breakwater. I couldn’t wait to get underway.
The image rolls out in front of me. The stern of the boat, the dock, another row of cookie-cutter boats, more boats out on moorings, the breakwater, and a smattering of islands to the south, just about to be kissed by the early morning sun. Today, we will sail to one of those islands, one called Cooper, a brief 6 mile trip into the wind. We will get comfortable with the boat, shake out some sails, and see what she can do. I haven’t dared turn on the equipment yet, but my spidey senses tell me about 15 knots of wind from the east. 15 knots of salty, humid, fresh breeze.
Our technical briefing was important. Chis, of course, deviated to all things mechanical, we both focused on safety, and I focused on navigation and rigging. We fell instantly back into our strengths, and found again that we could finish each other’s sentences. Perfect compliments.
We left the Sunsail base shortly before noon. Once clear of the reef and in deep water, we turned into the wind to set the main. On Platina, this was done with the carefully choreographed push of two buttons. On Santana, this was work. With only two of us, and an autopilot that turned out to be unreliable, Chis eased the main sheet, and began hoisted the main halyard. Without me to tail the halyard, he started grinding it up on the winch. I just kept the boat pointed into the wind. Chis did all the hard work. Once set, we turned off the wind, and set our course. Then, the jib. Once again, Chis did all the hard work. I just looked at the sails and suggested the appropriate trim.
Flying along doing 6.5 knots in about 10 to 15 knots of fluky winds, we sat back and enjoyed the exhilaration. Two brilliantly executed tacks later, and we were there. It was time to put away the sails. On Platina, we’d cast of the jib sheet and push a button to furl the jib. On Santana, with manual furling, Chis started to bell-ring the furling line. The jib would not budge. After trying a few things, and rapidly approaching a really rocky point of land, we decided to set the jib and tack away from the island. Once away from the pointy bit of land, we looked things over. The blocks for the jib sheets had jam cleats, so even though we had cast off the sheet, it was not running freely. Once we released the jam cleat, the jib sheet ran freely, and the jib furled in nicely. We wouldn’t be making that mistake again. Down came the main, on went the engine, and we motored slowly into the anchorage. Chis did a spectacular job picking up the mooring pennant and getting us fixed for the night.
We found ourselves going through our normal routine, as if it were Platina, putting lines away, zipping up the main sail bag, etc. Once settled, we hopped in the dinghy and went ashore to the Cooper Island Beach Club. We found a shady table under the seagrapes, and settled down for a cold beer and some conch fritters, listening to the waves lick the beach. We returned to the boat, grabbed our books and the chart, and settled down to watch the sun set. Chis snoozed, I read, and after sundown, it was time to figure out dinner. The was not the palatial galley of Platina. This requires skill to coordinate fridge openings, cupboard openings, and cooking. And, in virtual darkness because the boat had one battery (unlike the 12 we had on Platina). I don’t think either of us made it much past 9pm – sun, fresh air, wind, no noise – this is so not New York!
Posted by dave at 08:10 PM | Comments (0)
April 28, 2007
Tortola N18.3 W64.3
Despite only minor delays leaving JFK airport, the pilot wasted no time reporting to us that he would take a course to avoid weather in the Western Atlantic Ocean on our way to San Juan, Puerto Rico. This would be the huge and potent front related to the storm that only yesterday dumped inches of rain in New York.
We arrived in San Juan only 30 minutes late, and my instinct to book a later connection to Tortola had been a good one. Now, how to kill three hours? Three hours turned into four because of mechanical issues with the aircraft.
At last, we arrived in Tortola around 6:30pm, reminiscing as we flew over islands and bays where just two years ago we had enjoyed with Platina. Arriving at the marina at Hodges Creek, we were told where to find our boat, Santana, and we leapt aboard with our gear. A pleasant surprise, the boat was neat, clean and tidy. We sat in the cockpit with a glass of wine, and enjoyed the ocean breeze and gentle rocking of the boat. Oooh, I miss this.
We did a brief recon of the lockers, and thought best to wait until our “technical briefing” in the morning. It was a very long day, and we are both looking forward to a good night’s sleep.
The wind kicked up in the middle of the night, and we found ourselves leaping about closing hatches as the rains came. This made things hot and muggy below, and we patiently waited out the rain so we could let some air in.
Chis has worked very long hours lately, and he has earned this break. We plan short day trips, giving plenty of time for lounging, reading, snoozing and snorkeling. Nothing aggressive.
Posted by dave at 08:09 PM | Comments (0)