by Kay Muir
December 2010
Last issue, we met Don and Kay Muir, as they set about preparing their Hallberg Rassy 42, Karinya, for the long trip home to Australia. Since then, they’ve travelled up the Potomac River to Washington DC, visiting some of the US capital’s best-known landmarks and museums. They have travelled down the Inter-Coastal Waterway, which meanders for over 740 miles down the east coast from Norfolk (home of the US Navy) to Florida, through the waterway’s system of locks, canals and under an assortment of bridges. They have travelled through places in the heartland of early American history and been touched by the first fingers of an approaching North American winter. This issue, we join Don and Kay as they depart the USA and head offshore into the Atlantic in search of warmer weather, quiet Caribbean anchorages and rum ...
22nd November, depart Cape Lookout, North Carolina (34°17.34’N / 76°03.25’W): Bye, bye America! We are at last on our merry way. Not too much wind, flat seas and sunshine. Good sailing to start, but guess what? The wind died but having gone too far to contemplate going back, we did what purists would never do, and turned on the engine.
Eventually, the wind picked up to a nice gentle breeze and we were cruising along. We thought 5pm a little early for tea, needing to space out the highlights of the evening, when 20-25 knots of SW breeze came from nowhere, just after the sun had set. With full main and genoa, we were quite heeled. OK for sailing, but not for doing tea. Fortunately, there were the inevitable leftovers. So first night out, I remembered what it is like cooking on an angle of 45 degrees and trying not to lose everything to the other side of the cabin, especially the food.
23rd November, en route to Bermuda, crossing the Gulf Stream: We’d read so much about crossing the Gulf Stream: how lively it could be, not to cross in this wind or that, how to be prepared and get the latest maps of the flows and to watch out for eddies. It all sounded a little daunting.
As it turned out, all was quite peaceful; we had a steady breeze and relatively flat water and didn’t even realize we were crossing it, except to notice an increase in the ambient temperature and humidity. However, that night, the compass light went out at the same time as the boat speed monitor went crazy (could we really be doing 17 knots?) and the depth sounder told us we were in 5 feet of water. Could this be the effect of the Bermuda triangle?
25th November, en route to Bermuda (34°32.05’N / 70°41.30’W): My watch. The sun was just peeping through when I checked the clock – 0600. As I looked up, I was aware that the inevitable was about to happen and there was nothing I could do to stop it. You know when you detect that feeling in the boat? Well, this was one of those moments.
All of a sudden, a rogue wave (or swell) smacked into the port side of the boat sending a cascade of water over the decks, over the dodger and bimini top, around the side curtains and into the cockpit, drowning me, sitting on the leeward side (fortunately I had all my wet weather gear on) and splashed into the saloon. Meanwhile, Don is down below catching up with a few zzz’s after the last watch, when he gets rudely awakened by a cold salt water shower. The water came in through the supposedly impenetrable deck vents. These now face the stern and not the bow.
Still sailing okay, winds 20-25 knots and we are doing 7-8 knots in heavy seas.
27th November, Bermuda (32°22.85’N / 64°40.56’W): Triangle? What Triangle? At 0400 we sailed into Bermuda after 5 days at sea. Mostly good sailing, however the wind blew up and we had 25-35 knots SW for the last few hours. Getting the sail down in the darkness, with a reef to port and a narrow entrance was challenging in the wee small hours. Customs were there to greet us at 4.00am (!) and after formalities and a quick shower, we caught up on some sleep. Much warmer now, I have only 2 layers on, Don only a T-shirt.
30th November, Bermuda: We wandered around the town of St George (there’s a few dragons as well). It is very pretty with its painted stone cottages with white roofs, straddling narrow lanes. Reminds me of Cornwall but with coral waters, blue skies and palm trees. Everyone is very friendly and helpful and it’s easier to get around on the pink and blue buses. We’ve had a bus ride to Hamilton (the capital) and a ferry ride to the old Naval dockyards where we sampled the famous rum cake, made with Seal’s Rum. We had to buy a bottle in the hope that I might make a rum cake! We also contributed to the local economy by buying the statutory T-shirts. New friends Steve and Sheila have treated us like royalty, giving us a personal tour of the island, treating us to wonderful local restaurants and an enjoyable ‘pint’ in the Hog Penny Pub. They have made our stay in Bermuda extra special.
8th December, depart Bermuda for the British Virgin Islands (BVI): The 11th Hour. There's a weather window with a reasonable forecast to leave for the British Virgin Is (BVIs). Last minute check as all the charts come out, but where are the ones we need? We have all charts down the east coast of USA, through the Bahamas, Porto Rico, through the Windward Islands, through the Panama canal and across the Pacific, but we did not have the small section with the Leeward Islands which contains the BVIs. Steve to the rescue! A return bus trip to Hamilton to Steve's Interior Design and architects office to copy large charts. We are eternally grateful. Back on the bus clutching our 'hot off the press' charts protected in a cardboard tube, we returned to St George, fuelled up, radioed our farewell to Bermuda Radio and off we set. Had a great stay in Bermuda; I think they have more canons then England.
10th December, heading south to the BVI (29°48’N / 64°21.3’W): 25 knots became 30 knots, which became 35 knots and then 40 knots, with at least one gust of 50 knots and of course the accompanying seas. Again a dark night without a horizon but with the added attraction of heavy rain. For someone who doesn't relish the thought of the big dipper at the seaside fun park, that sure was a ride.
Off watch down below, having just extracted myself from the full wet weather gear and settled on the berth, a 'rogue wave' clobbered us and the newly copied charts so carefully placed in a cardboard tube, now became a missile, clonking me on the head. This action occurred simultaneously as the secure-fitting Hallberg-Rassy-designed, not-meant-to-fly-open drawers, did so, distributing their contents across the saloon. Well, we did buy the boat from 'Rogue Wave' Yacht brokers, so I guess this was their christening. Added to this, all the deck vents leaked when waves washed over, providing an internal salt water sprinkler system. Water found its way onto berths, cushions, pillows and the bed sheets!
P.S. Did I mention that it was not too warm in the NE breeze, even at latitude 29N? Just thought I'd share this information in case anyone thinks we are lying on white sun-drenched beaches, sipping Pina Coladas through straws. If they do, tell them they're dreaming!
It was a long and tedious 24 hours but thanks to good ol' Rassy, cup-of-soups and muesli bars, we made it. And not to forget to mention my 2 new best friends, Wallace the wind vane and Grommet the auto pilot. No hand steering for 5 days. Heaven! I don't know who invented them but they should be knighted. (For those who are interested, the wind vane is a Monitor and the auto pilot is a Cetrec.)
12th December, en route to the BVI (25°2.4’N / 65°8.9’W): As usual, today the wind was less than predicted and petered out to 5-10 knots max from the south. Not wanting to drift about the Atlantic and wanting to make it to the BVIs this year, we motored, day and night. I had just got my head down (or so it seemed) when I awoke (if I had ever really been asleep) to the noise (or lack of) as the engine shut down and a smell of 'burnt baked custard tart'. In my dreams, I thought the wind had picked up and the baking fairy was preparing something special for breakfast. Not exactly. Apparently, the batteries were being overcharged, probably due to some feedback mechanism, called a regulator, not being adjusted properly. At least, that's what I'm told. It wasn't baked custard but baked batteries I could smell. A top up of distilled water seemed to pacify them, at least for the moment.
I think I'm seeing a pattern emerge here. It seems that every time I go to get some shut-eye, something happens. Is there a moral to this? Speaking of sleep or rather, lack of it, do long distance cruisers ever really get any proper sleep? Do you ever get any stage 3-4 sleep or are you permanently stuck in stage 1-2? Is REM sleep replaced by visual and auditory illusions? The creaks and groans of the boat and the wind in the middle of the night often sound like someone speaking. Maybe those funny men in their white coats will soon be coming! Help! Let's get to those islands soon.
13th December, (21°31.6’N / 64°34.6’W): The Breakfast fairy? When I get back, I'm going to do further study. A course about how to predict the weather and tell it like it never is. I think it's called meteorology. So far the winds have been more than or less than predicted despite all the technological advances and knowing about upper air streams, upper troughs, ridge axis and vertical stacking. I might resort to the traditional theories; you know, red sky at night, wind before rain etc. Now, where did I put that piece of seaweed?
15th December, north of BVIs (19°31.5’N / 64°50.1’W): Hitch-hikers and a casualty. Late yesterday afternoon, we were pleased to see 3 cute little birds circle the boat, then land on the rail. What they were doing 160 miles from shore is anyone's guess. They didn't look like fish-eating birds, more your garden type. In fact, I'm sure one of them was trying to extract some nutrient from the brightly coloured lure hanging off the fishing rod. They got quite brave and started to explore. At one stage, all 3 were riding Miss Daisy. One even managed to get into the basket and hadn't quite worked out that it only had to fly up a few inches to escape, instead doing its best to squeeze through the basket wires as if it were trapped in a cage. Finally, it succeeded.
Dusk came and one bird snuggled itself on the deck between the cockpit and the genoa track. We couldn't see, but heard the others. As it darkened we checked on the snuggled bird only to find that it didn't look well. It may have been given concussion caused by a clunking pulley block. This morning it was decidedly not well and became a statistic (not sure where the records are kept for small birds being mortally wounded on ocean-going vessels). What happened to its mates we will never know. Maybe they jumped ship to hitch a ride on a Caribbean cruise liner. The birds were about the size of a sparrow, with a tail like a swallow. The first part of their wings were tinged a deep royal blue before becoming a dark brown/black. Their breasts were white and underneath their beaks were orange feathers. Anyone know what they might be?
All at sea, where night follows day, follows night, follows day and so on. During the day we saw sea. Glassy sea, grey sea, blue sea, sea with a swell, with waves, some with breaking white crests. A vast expanse of ocean devoid of any obvious life apart from the very occasional (i.e. spotted twice) flying fish. There was sky, too. Blue sky with fluffy white clouds, completely grey skies, skies with those high cirrus clouds that promise an approaching front (just showing off now I've read 'Instant Weather Forecasting') and others that promise imminent squally rain. At night, sometimes we saw stars and occasionally a waxing moon, infrequently a passing ship and often we saw black.
Daybreak was a welcome sight even if on some days the sun secretly slid from behind the horizon and hid behind the clouds. Other sunrises and sunsets were worthy of photographing but we already have an album of sunsets over the ocean. So looking forward to the scenery in the Pacific over the 3000NM from the Galapagos Islands, just to compare with the Atlantic.
I've got legs! After several weeks of wearing long trousers/tracksuit with or without waterproof dungarees, the weather suddenly warmed up going south, as if we crossed an imaginary line. Off came the trackie pants and on went the shorts! Peeping out from below the shorts were a pale pasty pair of pins. I've got a been-at-sea-for-6-days hairstyle. I'm told that this tousled, windswept, just-got-out-of-bed look is fashionable and I've got it and perfected it without paying a fortune at the hairdressers. Or maybe not. Perhaps I’d better get a haircut; can't be too trendy. Any good scissors anywhere?
16th December, Jost Van Dyke Island, Great Harbour, BVI (18°26.4’N / 64°45.0’W): Anchored! At last. We anchored at Jost Van Dyke, Great Harbour, BVIs at 0230. Despite attempts to slow down during the day in order to arrive in the daylight, the wind had other ideas and picked up to 25-30 knots. With a double reefed main and a very little genoa we were still doing 6 knots. It was fun sailing into an unknown anchorage in the dark, knowing we had reefs all around us. I don't remember sleeping after we had sorted everything out, but I woke up at 0600 on the berth in the saloon wondering if it was my watch and I had missed it.
Charter boat? What charter boat? The island, which was an eerie dark mass in the middle of the night, turned out to be picture-perfect in daylight. The only boats we could see when anchoring were a very lit up cruiser pretending to be a tall ship and a 200-foot super yacht which had underwater lighting, illuminating the turquoise water. However, the harbour was full of charter boats (lots of catamarans) and all moorings were taken. It didn't take long before they were all on the move.
Ashore to customs and immigration - customs check-in at respectable hour of 10am . We interrupted the customs guy from his TV program and the immigration lady from her 'meditation'. It cost a whole 20 cents for immigration. They would not accept $1 so we had to buy some long-life milk (no fresh as it requires refrigeration, which apparently is expensive,
but I think it just takes up beer room in the fridge) to get change. Had an easy day listening to reggae-style xmas songs. Very strange. Rum is very cheap here, too.
17th December, Jost Van Dyke Island, Great Harbour, BVI: These legs were made for walking. After many hours asleep, we got to the important business of the day - bottling the brew. This was the first batch, which had been happily bubbling all the way from Bermuda. Now there is a 2-week wait until the beer is ready in the bottles. After that it was a walk ashore, well more like a hike - uphill (that's all there is around here - hills). Remember, I discovered legs the other day? Well, they really discovered what they are meant to do! I think they had forgotten that they are meant to do walking, you know, putting one foot in front of the other and making forward progress. In this case, uphill. Having just read A Walk in the
Woods by Bill Bryson, I can identify with his walking companion, Katz, except I didn't have any Snickers to throw out of the rucksack to lighten the load.
18th December, JVD Is, BVI: Pan Pan, Pan Pan. Not yet 0930 and 2 Pan Pans on the radio as 2 boats had gone aground on different reefs. One a commercial vessel with 23 passengers on board, and the other a private catamaran which was taking on water rapidly. The US Coast Guard came to the rescue and eventually had to 'force' the skipper to abandon ship. The skipper of the commercial vessel was very sheepish and would only communicate by phone. We did hear that all passengers were taken to safety. Is it safe to venture out there?
The Big Trip. We sailed from Great Harbour to Little Harbour. Such a long trip, it took at least 1 hour. We picked up a mooring (no real place to anchor because of all the moorings) and went ashore. There we were greeted by Cynthia, the owner of one of the 2 restaurants at the bay. Cynthia was small in stature but big in personality and hair! She wore a bright orange ‘Caribbean cap’, like a beret with a peak, hiding what later was revealed, long strands of neatly braided hair. Her sales pitch was so good that we just had to return in the evening, if not for the food, which was very good, but for the entertainment.
There were about 20 guests for dinner and we sat with a couple from Maine, USA, Mr & Mrs (probably Dr. PhD) D. They were on their way to the US Virgin Islands to do volunteer work in the national parks. Mr D was in commercial real estate and Mrs D was a professor of philosophy, studied physics, the space-time theory of relativity and the ethics of engineering. They were also Quakers. We talked about boating!
19th December, depart JVD: Off again on yet another big sail. This time to Tortola, the main island. We pointed the boat in the right direction and off we went. First stop, Soper’s Hole, where there was a very good food store. Mmmmm – Wensleydale cheese, with cranberries (well it is Christmas and what with Wallace and Grommet on board, even if it was made in Dorset!). It went down a treat with fresh, still warm, French bread. Easily pleased. A nice fresh crunchy Cox’s Pippen would have made it even better, but apples don’t grow too well in the tropics. From Soper’s Hole, we sailed on to Peter Island, there not being too many anchorages before Road Harbour, the main town. We tacked 4 times in 2 hours! We’ve been used to same tack for 4 days! Do we do this many tacks?
20th December, Road Harbour,Tortola, BVI (18°25.07’N / 64°36.95’W): Have moved over to the main island to do some shopping etc. We were drinking too many Pina Coladas back at Jost Van Dyke! Great people, very friendly, warm clear water and lots of music.
23rd December, Road Town, Tortola: Road Harbour and … roads Did I say roads? Well, roads, yes, but not as we know them. We were plunged from the quiet anchorage of Peter Island to the bustling metropolis of Road Town, the main ‘city’ in the BVIs. The main road was almost wide enough for 2 cars to pass, in places. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper and cars just parked where they stopped. Add to the regular ‘traffic’, 2 cruise liner loads of souvenir hunting tourists. Mustn’t forget to mention the chickens and baby chicks scratching around all over, oblivious to any road rules.
Small colourful shops, with their wooden shutters, lined the main street (there really was only one other), as well as some stalls selling linen and shoes; lots of shoe stalls – (not quite Jimmy Choo shoes, I don’t think). Then there were the men who sat in the shade. To the scene, add Don on the bicycle, following a local’s instructions, in search of a hardware store for a brass fitting for a pipe. Meanwhile, reggae Christmas music is blaring out of every shop.
After much walking and stocking up from the local supermarket, we decided to head out of the city lights to Beef Island (where there isn’t any), another anchorage full of moored charter boats. Two nights there and we were off to Virgin Gorda, along with about another 100 boats, not to mention 4 large cruising boats (not quite as big as the P&O liners) and a couple of super yachts. Most boats were anchored off the Bitter End Yacht Club, but we chose a quieter anchorage for Christmas Eve.
T’was the night before Christmas and all on the boat
With its Christmas lights, it looked pretty afloat
Then down below inside the yacht
There hung a stocking tied up with a knot
But what about Santa how would he know
Where in the world, on which boat to go?
Fear not, all is well for Santa is here
And he’ll be off soon, spreading warm Christmas cheer
But there’s no reindeer around, all ready to dash
There’s only Santa, having a wash
On the back of his boat, with fresh water and soap
There stands jolly Santa, in blue boxer shorts
With a well rounded tummy and a beard so white,
Santa was sprucing himself for his big night
Now that he knows that we’re very close
I wonder what goodies for us he will choose
To put in our stocking and for it to fill
With lots of good wind, sunshine and goodwill
So now we are sending our good Christmas cheer
With all our best wishes for the coming year
Don and Kay spent Christmas Day anchored in a lovely but busy bay at Virgin Gorda, amid lots of huge super yachts. Kay said, “I think we fit in quite well” They moved to Peter Island on the 29th to wait for a weather window to leave for Saint Marten and arrived there on New Year’s Day after a relatively good sail, hard on the wind, averaging about 6 knots. Strong winds have kept them there longer than anticipated, but they hope to head off to Antigua next week. Next issue, we’ll join them as they transit the Panama Canal and begin their voyage across the Pacific.