Mike and I wake early – again. This 6 am business is too much but neither of us seem to be able to sleep later no matter what time we go to bed.
Just after 9 am we get a phonecall from Liat telling us that the bags have arrived. Given that we are just pulling up the anchor to go and retrieve said bags from the airport based on the call last night, this information is somewhat superfluous. However, it does confirm that they are actually here and that a trip to Trellis Bay will not be a waste of time. The man offers to deliver the bags to where ever we want but given Liat’s performance so far, we do not want to give room for any other errors to be made so we decline their offer.
Starting the starboard engine proves problematic. It wouldn’t start one day last week but Mike tapping the solenoid with the end of a screwdriver ‘fixed’ it. Today, no amount of tapping with any instrument does the trick. He decides to take a closer look at in when we are anchored for the night.
The sail over to Trellis Bay takes longer than expected, zig-zagging all the way. Rachel cannot understand why we can’t just head straight in the direction we want to go so I try to explain about wind direction and sail angle. I can see Mike flinching at my explanation and luckily he steps in and I learn something new.
The sea is rougher than yesterday, and Rachel, feeling brave, goes to the bow of the boat and is very soon absolutely soaked by waves breaking over her. For nearly half an hour she clings, shrieking at the top of her voice, part excitement and part terror, until she braves the walk, crab-like, back to the safety of the cockpit.
Photo: Picking up from the airport, BVI style! 
Photo: Mike, John and Simon returning with the luggage - hurray
Even in Trellis Bay, the sea is quite rough, and the dinghy ride is a little wetter than expected, but they return with all four pieces of luggage and more importantly (for Mike anyway), a case of ginger beer!
We motor round to Monkey Point for lunch and snorkelling. Lunch is just self assembly sandwiches, such a welcome rest from the cooked lunches that I have been doing. After lunch, John and Simon go swimming, then snorkelling, and even Allison is coaxed into the water. I take to my bed for a little reading, and inevitably drift off to sleep. When I wake, the weather has taken a turn for the worse and there are frequent and heavy showers.
Mike goes back into one of his ‘black holes’ ie one of the engine compartments. He tries for nearly an hour to remove the starter motor and solenoid, so he can isolate the problem but neither of them are willing to be removed. The rain pouring through the open hatch, coupled with aching hands, eventually force him to give up and have a couple of dark and stormies. John keeps him company.
Weather like this though, does have its photogenic side and we are presented with a beautiful sky at sunset.
Photo The lull between the storms
Allison and I prepare dinner, and we have just finished eating when a violent squall arrives from nowhere. As we scramble to clear the table and pull down the waterproof curtains, a glass of red wine flies off the table, covering everything in its path. Table, floor, cockpit sides, cooler, chairs; everything is liberally splashed in red. As today is my friend Johanne’s birthday, and she has a habit of knocking over glasses of red wine, I can only presume that this is some sort of cosmic nudge, quite unnecessary as it turns out, as I have already sent her a card and a text.
Photo: Allison content with her iPod, oblivious and happy!
Everyone has gone to bed and Mike and I are still sitting at the computer when the weather worsens again and the anchor alarm goes off. We rush outside and can see that we are now lying 180 degrees to where we were before. The alarm goes off two or three more times and Mike realises we could be in for and interesting night. He can see that as well as lying in a different direction, the anchor has dragged and the boat is now 30-40 yards closer to the shore. He decides to sleep in the salon and I sleep clothed and with my cabin door open, ready to leap into action if required.
As I go to bed, the wind has already reached force 8 (about 36 knots, 40 mph), and the squalls are constant. There are grinding noises from the anchor chain as it rubs over rocks on the seabed, and the wind howls, but I fall straight to sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment