Day 3: Tortola, BVI to Bermuda - 16/07/12

Well, I’m back at my computer which must mean that my head is out of the bucket.  What a wonderful start, but actually, the start was OK, the OK bit just didn’t last very long.

Mike woke me up at 7 am with a cup of tea.  The cup of tea part was good but the being woken wasn’t.  So much for the ‘we’ll get up and go when we wake up”, the ‘we’ part figuring high on my agenda.

I frantically got the blog up to date and posted and after last minute preparations, we slipped the lines at 9 am.

There was a good wind, around 20-25 knots, and we started to make great time almost immediately, doing around 8-9 knots.  We were on a beam reach and even with two reefs in the main and half the genoa we were flying.

However, the sea got lumpier and lumpier the further we sailed from Tortola.  By mid afternoon, what was just a bit uncomfortable in the morning had become pretty bloody intolerable.  We were both being thrown around whenever we tried to move.  And then that sick feeling descended.  I called for the bucket.  When the sea is that rough, a bucket is preferable to going anywhere near the side, hideous as looking at your own vomit may be.

I was keeping it together, just, until I had to go to the loo.  That finished me and Mike quickly handed me the bucket while I was still sitting there on the throne.

Everything was downhill after that.  All I was capable of was lying in a sweaty little heap on the sofa.  Every time I sat up, a fresh wave of nausea would wash over me and I would lie back down again.  My watches were done lying on the sofa with the alarm clock set every 15 minutes.  I couldn’t work out which stage of sea sickness I was at – the one where you are frightened you are going to die, or the one where you’re frightened you’re not going to!

And it just carried on.

By the next day, I still couldn’t keep stuff down.  The record for holding onto a drink was about 2 minutes.  Having just cleaned out the bucket with half of a can of coke I had just thrown up, I drank the other half just to watch it make its reappearance.  I decided that if I fancied any more coke, I would just cut out the middle man and tip it straight into the bucket!

The sea conditions did not change although Mike kept telling me that they would be better the next day.

I ached all over, actually we both did.  The effort of just staying still when the boat is moving relentlessly like that is enormous.  Pain killers would not take the headache away, probably because it was caused by dehydration.  I felt as weak as a kitten and longed for a shower and hair wash but wasn’t strong enough or brave enough to attempt one.  I was so tired that I had no trouble sleeping, fitful sleep though it was.  We didn’t stick rigidly to our 5 hours on/5 hours off, we took our sleep when we needed it.

Then when I went on watch at midnight, the sea had started to calm down a little.  I lay on the sofa again with the alarm clock, taking two large mouthfuls of water every time the alarm sounded, and ate a couple of the dry rosemary biscuits Heather had left behind.  I still felt sick every time I moved, but I didn’t have to reach for the bucket.

Gradually during the day the sea state improved.  By lunch time I had improved so much I really fancied the chicken salad I’d planned, and happily it felt the same about my tummy as it stayed put.  The headache still persisted for some hours until a couple of bottles of ‘Ting’ sorted it out.  When I woke from my afternoon nap, I felt normal.

But all good things obviously have their flip sides.  In order for my to feel so good, the sea had become almost flat calm and with the wind dropping to 7 knots we were getting under 4 knots of speed.  Just not enough.  So an engine went on.  By late in the evening, the pathetically small amount of wind had moved around to come from almost due north and Mike had to put both engines on.  That in turn means that we can’t have the generator on as well for the air conditioning.  Yuk.  Still, I had a really hot shower and loved every second of it.  Maybe we’ll get just a little bit of wind tomorrow.  But please, please, please, no rough seas.

Our position is:   25 degs, 01 mins N, 64 degs 40 mins W

Distance so far:  400 miles

Day 2: Tortola, BVI to Bermuda - 15/07/12

Mike again… Jean still seasick so can’t do the blog again today. Conditions still the same as yesterday for most of the day but quietening down by the evening. Virtually no wind or waves promised by the forecaster for tomorrow so hopefully Jean will be better in time for the next blog.

Our position is:  22 deg 54 min N, 64 deg 40 min W

Distance so far:  273 nautical miles

Day 1: Tortola, BVI to Bermuda - 14/07/12

Just a quick note from Mike…Jean is feeling seasick so can’t do the blog today. Apart from that, all is well. The nice gentle 15-20 knot breeze promised by the weather forecaster has yet to arrive. Instead we have a constant 25-30 knots with lumpy seas. Lovely.

Our position is:  20 deg 15 min N, 64 deg 38 min W

Distance so far:  113 nautical miles

Preparing For The High Seas: 09/07/12 – 13/07/12

It’s sad to see Heather, Joe and Graysen packing their bags, probably for the last time on Jeannius if we go ahead and sell her some time next year.  Well put her on the market anyway, after all, in this economic climate, selling anything is difficult.

While she’s not looking, I slip the plaque that we won for coming last in the Anegada Lobster Race into Heather’s bag as a surprise.  I never actually understood why we won that.  Yes, we came last, but we had officially retired from the race so weren’t in it anyway.

Linda comes over early to pick up the laundry and comes back with the first just as the Conklins are leaving for the airport.  It is a sad little farewell as we stand in the dusty carpark at Conch, basking in the smell of the overflowing rubbish skip.  Ah, the Caribbean!

Mike and I busy ourselves doing jobs on the boat, and this is really how the week continues.  We unpack all the boxes we stored at Conch and find the contents to be absolutely fine – no damp or mould at all.  In fact, even the huge bag of soft furnishings has remained fragrant.  The same cannot be said of the stuff in the bow compartment of the boat.  As Mike breaks it open, a hot, fetid smell emerges.  Everything is hot and damp and covered disgusting black, sooty mould.  He takes out a couple of things then decides to just leave the hatch open for a day or so.  A little man comes to service the engines and generator so with the cabins stripped, it gives me the opportunity to have a good sweep around and also search for Diane’s earrings which disappeared some time during the week, but they are nowhere to be found.

Mike contacts the main rigging guy on the island to arrange for him to go to the top of the mast to retrieve the main halyard and replace its sheave but when he is told we are at the dock at Conch, he tells us we will have to take the boat around to the shelter of TMM or a marina as he won’t go up the mast with the ferries going past.  What a wuss!  I go up the mast at sea outside Capetown and a guy who does it professionally won’t do it tied to the dock because of a bit of wake.  Actually, it’s a bloody lot of wake when the ferries pass but still.

Linda arrives at the dock on Tuesday morning to say goodbye - now it is her time for going home.

I decide to go into town to do a bit of provisioning.  The office tell me that Bobby's will come and collect me within 5 minutes of them placing the call, and sure enough, half an hour and 3 phone calls later, they do.  Sigh, I will never get used to ‘island time’.

Walking around Bobby’s I am dismayed at what I see.  The shop has really gone downhill.  Over half the frozen display units are completely empty, the fresh fruit and vegetables look anything but fresh and lots of the produce I pick up is out of date or barely in date.  The new Rite Way must be hitting them hard – and their answer seems to be to increase the price of everything they do have to make up the income shortfall – everything is so expensive.  One bag of groceries (with no meat or alcohol) comes to nearly $90.  Ridiculous!  I can’t find half the stuff I want so slip out and make my way over to SupaValue to buy all my chicken and shrimp.  On the way back I spot the same driver loading another crew and their provisioning into the taxi, and nonchalantly slide into the front, even though it was bloody obvious I had just come from another shop.  When he drops me off, I slip him $5 for not ‘noticing’.  Well, if you can’t beat them …

I cook garlic and chilli prawns on toast for tea.  We haven’t had it for ages and as I munch into the succulent little critters, I bemoan the fact that I only bought one pack.  And at $20 for 1.5 kilos, they are much better value than the small tube of tomato puree which cost me nearly $10 at Bobby’s.

On Wednesday, we move Jeannius round to TMM.  There is no room on the dock so we raft up three deep against another Catamaran and wait for the rigger.  Penny comes to see us, bringing back our breakmaker which has been on loan to her since last summer.  It turns out she liked it so much that Pete bought her one for Christmas so she’s happy to return mine.  We catch up on our respective family news then she offers to drop me in town so I can buy some more shrimp.  I pop into Capriccios to say hello to Pete and her daughter who she is meeting for lunch then walk back hoping the prawns don’t defrost, even though I have wrapped them in towels in my bag.  As I pass the riggers place, I note that his car is still in the driveway even though it is now past his appointment time with us.  Island time again!

I cannot pass Crandalls without buying some of their salt fish patties for lunch, and throw a beef one in for good measure too.  These things are delicious.  A tasty filling pinched up 'Cornish pasty style’ in doughnut dough and deep fried.  Heart attack on a plate, theoretically disgusting, but in reality, anything but.  Yummy.

Eventually the rigger arrives and I leave him to it with Mike to go to say hi to some of the staff at TMM.  Ten minutes later, I am just leaving to pop to the Rite Way door, when I see the rigger leave.  Asking him if it is all done, he replies ‘no, and you’ve got a bigger problem than you thought’.  Terrific.  It would appear that a terrible grinding noise occurred as he was winched up the mast and he is unwilling to risk it, preferring to dangle from a crane at Nanny Cay which he can do for us tomorrow as he will be there with said crane for another boat.

I do my heavy shopping then tramp it all across two boats to Mike.  He’s not as pissed off as I am about the rigging but he’s generally more ‘philosophical’ than I am about boat expenditure.  We collect the main sail from the sail makers above TMM and Mike, dragging it once more across the two rafted boats, not an easy task and one which I accomplish from the air conditioned comfort of the boat while Mike sweats it out with someone else.  We take the boat back out of the mosquito hell hole that is TMM (the down side of being sheltered) and pop it back on Conch’s dock.  When Mike sees the manager and explains what has happened he says the grinding noise was because they had swapped the grinding shreve for another one and they know another rigger who will do it.  One phone call and it’s arranged for tomorrow morning.

The afternoon is spent washing black mould off everything in the bow compartment and leaving it out to dry.

Early Thursday morning the other rigger arrives and half an hour later the job is done.  The nasty grinding noise did happen again but the rigger was unconcerned, probably because he sent his little apprentice up there.  Anyway Mike explains that the grinding noise is not a problem as it was caused by using a metal bit that’s not used by anything else.  So that’s alright then!  And the black mould cleaning continues.  We also get another winch put on for the genoa so that Mike doesn’t have to keep swapping the sheets over, something he has been meaning to do for ages (evidenced by the fact that the bloody winch has been sitting in one of his tool boxes for nearly two years!)

On Friday our main sail is finally fitted back on, Mike organises his tools and spare parts then goes to check out from Customs while I fill the boat with water.  It’s getting exciting now that we are nearly ready to go.  While I have command of the dock hose and a ferocious supply of water, I give the deck a really good scrub, finally managing to remove the last of Malcolm’s red wine. 

Finally we say goodbye to the staff at Conch and pull away from the dock, heading over to the fuel dock.  The man waves us over to the other side, away from all the wood guard rails and huge fenders, and towards a nasty solid concrete side.  I hastily rearrange our fenders just as we come alongside.  Telling me that the diesel will automatically switch off when the tank is full, I stand and squeeze the handle.  Of course, it doesn’t do what it should do and about two pints of bright orange diesel spurts out all over my newly cleaned cockpit.  I am not amused.  But Mike is distracted and happy about the news that he can get the diesel duty free as we have already checked out and the news of saving $100 allows my complaining to just wash straight over him.

While it’s duty free, Mike fills all the jerry cans too.  The winds are forecast to be light and there might be a lot of motoring for the second half of the trip to Bermuda.

We head for Cane Garden Bay where we are due to stay for the night before setting off tomorrow.  Apparently you don’t set sail for a long passage on any Friday, let alone a Friday 13th.  As we pass Nanny Cay we notice a nasty squall coming which looks like it might miss us.  We see lots of flapping sails as yachts are caught out and try to get their sails down quickly.  As we watch, the squall spreads out and it is soon obvious that it is going to get us too.  I head inside to shut the hatches and Mike dons his waterproofs – then it’s bucket time as the water comes down and the wind picks up to over 40 knots.  At least it helps get rid of the salt water and detergent that we poured over the cockpit to get rid of the diesel.  Every cloud and all that – literally in this case.

Photo:  Mike, the jerry cans and my not-so-clean cockpit

Rounding Steel Point, Mike decides to check the rigging.  I assume my position by my newly labelled jammers and attempt to pull the main up.  It won’t move more than about a foot.  Shit.  Mike walks all around the boom and mast checking everything, then glances over at me and my jammers.  Having gone all around the world with the bloody things unlabelled and never having a problem, I have now managed to attempt to pull up the main by having the topping lift sheet on the winch.  What a dork!  I swap them over looking sheepish and all is well.  The sail and it’s rigging arrangement work just fine.

We pick up a mooring ball in Cane Garden Bay because Mike wants a good night’s sleep without having to worry, shower and then go over to The Elm to have dinner with Malcolm and Candace.  As usual it is good and tonight the Elmtones are playing.  They wish us good luck and dedicate a song to our journey.  Not sure of the relevance as it’s Steve’s train song, but he’s British so maybe that’s it.

Photo:  That Cane Garden sunset again

Photo:  The Elmtones doing their thing

Photo:  Mike, Mal, Howard, Candace and me

We say a reluctant goodbye to our friends and go back to the boat.  Tomorrow our new adventure starts!  Bermuda and the US, here we come!!

My Last Charter? Part 2: 05/07/12 – 08/07/12

The crew decide that they want to take a trip over to Cow Wreck Beach so organise a taxi and disappear, leaving Mike and I alone to read and … look after the boat.  I also make dinner for tonight and leave it marinating in the fridge for the day.

Although the sky looks ominous for most of the day, the rain keeps off and by the afternoon the sun is out although still just covered by a layer of hazy cloud.  The crew return, jolly from a few hours of cocktails on the beach and ready to eat.

We sit in the cockpit eating our dinner – there’s a coolish breeze and it keeps the mosquitoes at bay.  When a glass of red wine (why is it always red?) spills its contents all over the table I am momentarily surprised that Mal isn’t immediately under it, mouth open, catching the drips!

Another day, another island.  We head to Jost Van Dyke, stopping at Monkey Point, Guana Island for a snorkel.  The wind and current are much kinder to them today.

Photo:  Aww

Photo:  Still waters and sunny skies make for great snorkelling

It’s a lovely sail over to Jost Van Dyke.  With just the genoa and a lovely following wind and sea, we make good time over to Great Harbour and get hooked up to a mooring ball.  Mal catches the last ferry back to Tortola and the rest of the crew go ashore to sample the cocktails at Foxy’s, come back, shower, and return to shore for their evening meal.

The last day is spent on White Bay.  Even I am tempted to go ashore for an hour and walk of the beautiful white sand.  It would look a whole lot better though without all the day boats coming in and disgorging their burned, drunk passengers.  It was so different 15 years ago when we first came but I guess everyone has to earn a living.

Photo:  Lazing in a hammock with Graysen

Photo:  Diane and Linda at White Bay

Photo:  Graysen’s essay in the Soggy Dollar visitors’ book is probably the longest one

Photo:  Joe sucks his tummy in when he notices Heather with a camera!

We can only stay until 3pm as we have to make sure we get a mooring at Soper’s Hole.  Diane is leaving on a early morning ferry from there.  When we arrive, there are loads so we needn’t have worried but you can never be sure.  Diane, Heather and I go ashore – they are both looking for presents and I want to window shop.  Well, it makes Mike less nervous if I say that!  In the event, it is all I do although I see some nice silk sarongs that might still be there in the morning … !

Photo:  Sunset from Soper’s Hole

With hardly any water left in the tank, the showers are even more brief than usual.  I can almost sense Mike listening for the sound of the water being turned on and off.  Still, we all end up clean and fragrant and, unable to find a taxi, decide to walk to The Clubhouse.

The evening is sultry, probably the hottest evening so far, and there is not a breath of wind.  After five minutes of walking, none of us are feeling that ‘fresh out of the shower’ feeling any more.  Mike and I forge on ahead, along the side of the mangroves then a local comes to meet us.  No, not a local person, but a local dog.  It barks and lunges towards us and I notice that the rest of the gang are now about 20 yards behind us – sensible people.  Mike is totally unafraid of dogs, and determined to show this one that he is the top dog.  He starts towards it, stopping the dog in its tracks.  But it’s one step forward and two steps back.  Every time Mike lunges forward, the dog backs off, only to come round the back of Mike, snapping at him.  All the time I am clinging to Mike’s arm, trying not to whimper and all I can think of is … rabies!  Eventually though, we must get to the end of the dog’s territory and he gives up.

The Clubhouse is unfortunately without wind.  Open to the elements but without a breath of anything to cool you down, it is stiffling, and if the uphill walk wasn’t bad enough, the heat is a killer.  It does somewhat detract from the meal as most of us can’t wait to leave and get back to the boat, but it’s the last crew meal so we linger longer than our bodies actually want us to.

  Photo:  Dinner at The Clubhouse

Just before we are about to leave, the heavens open and we are treated to a right tropical downpour.  We are told that the wait for the taxi will be about 20 minutes so we decide to run the gauntlet of the mad dog and deep puddles and walk back.  And the dog is there, waiting for us.  This time he actually snaps at Mike and Linda picks up a handful of gravel to throw just in case.  But again Mike shows him who’s master and eventually he backs off.

We get back to a lovely wet dinghy, and slowly, oh so very slowly (our dinghy does not like lots of people in it and Mike has not got around to pumping it up) make our way back to the boat.

Diane is the second member of crew to leave.  After a 5 minute shower in the dock facilities, she’s off to catch a ferry to St Thomas.  We slip the mooring ball and head back to Road Town, a bumpy old ride as usual as it is right into the wind and waves, although neither are particularly bad.

Immediately we are tied up at the dock, staff from Conch arrive to remove the main sail so that it can be delivered to the sail repair guys first thing in the morning.  Linda packs and leaves to stay with a friend for a couple of days just along the road.  After our showers, the Conklins and Beswicks sit in the cool of the boat and enjoy a drink, discussing the plans for Jeannius, before getting in a taxi, Linda joining us again, to go over the hill to Cane Garden Bay.

Photos:  Sunset at Cane Garden Bay

Unfortunately when we get to The Elm, we discover that there is no music as Steve has a bad throat but the upside is that Malcolm and Candace are there so the gang is together once more and the ribs, as usual, are excellent.

Photos:  The ladies at The Elm

Finally it’s time to make a move, although Graysen is a little reluctant to get back in a taxi that sounds like it has no brakes (they all sound terrible though) and Mike and I sit in the back as the people least likely to get car sick!  We part company with Linda who promises to return the next day to pick up my washing and do it at her friend’s house.  Lovely.  That’s a job off my list.

My Last Charter? Part 1: 01/07/12 – 04/07/12

We sleep soundly through the night, lulled by the gentle rocking of the boat.  The air conditioning keeps us comfortable and if I could be woken with the offering of a cup of tea I would be a happy bunny – but alas there is no milk.  Or sugar.  As we have tea bags and sweeteners though, Mike waits until the office opens then goes to beg a cup of milk from them and all my needs are met.

I divide out the linens but today the guests/crew will have to fend for themselves as I don’t have time to do anything more than scrape the top layer of muck off the inside of the boat and leave the outside completely.  Five of our ‘crew’ are scheduled to arrive at 1pm and so are all the supplies.  We have all done our own provisioning and I have no idea how much I am about to have to cram into the fridge.

Earlier than expected I hear a little northern voice enquiring whether there is anyone aboard and San Diego Linda from Clitheroe, Lancashire, appears, grinning at the side of the boat.  It’s great to see her again and Mike makes the most of the fact that she has a car for a few hours and they go off to do a bit of additional provisioning.  Then I hear the familiar thump of bags arriving on deck and peeking out I see the smiling faces of Heather, Joe and Graysen.  Again, wonderful to have them back especially if this trip can wipe away the horrible sea-sick experience they had last summer when we went down to Bequia.

Linda and Mike arrive back and Diane arrives to complete the party.  Everyone gets themselves sorted out and we sit and wait for the provisioning to arrive.  Of course, as everyone is early, the provisioning is late – they must have learned a thing or two from LIAT!

After three phone calls where we are told it is on it’s way (when clearly it isn’t), it finally arrives.  We go through it, discarding the decidedly half-defrosted dodgy looking chicken (the manufacturer calls it ‘flying chicken parts’ – enough to put you off) that Diane has ordered (I have learned from bitter experience never to buy any meat, poultry or fish that I haven’t chosen myself).

We set sail into 30 knot headwinds, not the best conditions for the first trip, and half way over to Cooper Island the starboard engine warning alarm sounds and the engine stops.  Rushing to the side, Mike checks that water is still coming out (which it is) and reassured that nothing is totally knackered, continues on with just the one engine and sail.  This could mean a trip back to Conch tomorrow to get it looked at.  Bummer.  To top the first trip off, when we arrive, there are no mooring balls left and we have to anchor further out than we would have liked.  We are going ashore for dinner and I like as little opportunity of getting wet!  Dinghy rides are not known for keeping their passengers dry!  If the sea doesn’t get you, the heavens do.

Anchor down, Mike disappears down the black hole to survey the damage.  Given the amount of green gloop slopping around under the engine and weed floating around on the sea surface, Mike surmises that some of the weed had probably blocked the engine inlet pipe for a while which caused the engine to overheat, the coolant (green gloop to me) to bubble over and the engine to stop.  With the engine stopped, the weed must have fallen off.  He starts the engine again and it is fine, happily slurping sea water in and chucking it back out again.  Great, except for the headache that Mike now has as a result of a session in the heat of the black hole.

We go out for dinner that night, minus Mike who retires to his bed for the evening, and have a wonderful meal.  I am treated to mine by Heather and Joe – Thai green mahi mahi – washed down with Verve Cliquot (Joe has style) and two wonderful bottles of Kim Crawford NZ Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc (courtesy of Joe and Linda).

Photo:  Most of the motley crew – Graysen, Heather, Joe, me, Linda and Diane

Graysen also cons the staff into believing that it is my birthday (well, it was on Monday!) and a lovely piece of chocolate cake arrives, topped with a candle.

Photo:  Happy Birthday to me!

We just manage to get back on the boat when the heavens open, not for long, just enough to soak us if the timing had been different.  Better luck next time!

The next morning we head out for Virgin Gorda, stopping at The Dogs for a snorkel.  Graysen discovers the delights of the best seats in the house, so to speak, but there’s quite a scramble for them when the sea is offering a little excitement!

Photo:  Graysen up front!

When we arrive at Leverick Bay, most of the other yachts joining the Dinghy Poker Run flotilla are already there and we are enthusiastically welcomed in.  I for one, feel quite the celebrity as – so many people come over to shake my hand and thank me for writing about my little sea adventure that I actually begin to believe that it really might have been worth reading.  Thank you one and all.

Photo:  The girls enjoying a cocktail on the dock of the bay

Photo:  Mal, happy with his jar of Ma’amite – the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee edition

Thwarted by the lack of pizza in the evening, we go back to the boat and Linda prepares hot dogs instead.  At least I prepare something a little more healthy – salad – I am yearning green stuff.  We try to introduce the crew to the Brit sitcom, ‘Outnumbered’, but Heather and Joe are desperate to see the third series of ‘Gavin and Stacy’ – we settle for both, and some wine!

The morning of the Dinghy Poker Run dawns, and after a breakfast of smoked salmon, cream cheese, bagels and Buck’s Fizz to the our crew get into their outfits, some more enthusiastically than others, and head off for the briefing.

Photo:  Yummy breakfast!  Cheers, Linda!

Photo:  The crews gather – let battle commence – not for me though!

Photo:  The Viking Pirate himself, Saildoggie aka Mark

Photo:  Nick’s arrrrrrse!

Our crew depart,trying desperately to be the last out so that they don’t get too soaked.  Mike and I look after the boat, Jean-speak for doing nothing.  I don’t enjoy seawater, either being in it or having it thrown over me.  Even when a passing dinghy takes a pot-shot with a water gun, I manage to dive for cover.

They arrive back about 5 hours later, amazingly not too wet, having conveniently been taking photos every time a dinghy passed looking like it was going to take aim.  Excitedly, both Heather and Joe look like they have good poker hands, and prize-expectant, we head down in the early evening to the prize giving, where they win second and third.

Photos:  Prizes galore – including Necker Island champagne

Photo:  I’ve always looked up to Nick … literally!

In the evening we stay on board for dinner.  Diane cooks for us and we have some of Mr Branson’s champagne to wash it down.

Photos:  Dinner aboard Jeannius

The next morning it’s the Anegada Lobster Race, a lighthearted (for some) race from Leverick Bay to Anegada, just 12 miles away.  The weather forecast is not overly great but we all set off in good spirits according to our respective handicaps.  Half an hour into the race, and with winds of about 25-30 knots, there is suddenly a terrific bang and loss of power.  We all look around but it is Mike spots that the main sail is now neatly back in it’s bag.  That is not supposed to happen and any noise that loud is bound to be expensive.  On closer inspection, the cause of the problem is apparent – the ring at the head of the sail has been completely ripped out.

Photo:  What!  No main sail?

We have no choice but to officially withdraw.  At least it gives the others a chance!!!  The winds pick up and we speed along at over 7 knots with just the genoa but then the weather takes a turn for the worse and we are soon rolling half of the genoa away as the winds top out at 53 knots. 

Photo:  Heather holds on to her hat in strong winds

Three separate squalls pass over us, soaking us each time.  Well, when I say us, not me!  I scuttle inside as quick as my little legs can carry me but Mike is soaked to the skin, as is Mal, the only two daft enough to venture beyond the relative protection of the bimini.   At one point, noticing that Virgin Gorda is no longer behind us but off to our starboard side, I ask Mike why this is.  “It’s because we are going in entirely the wrong direction” he replies.  Of course it is.  Silly me.  And this from the man who got me all around the world.  Maybe it would have taken us 12 months instead of 16 if I had been in charge of the navigation.  Actually, I think not.

Eventually the squalls do pass over and as the sun makes its appearance once more, Mike allows Graysen so drive the boat towards the mooring field.

Photos:  Graysen takes the wheel

While the rest of the crew disappears off to explore (drink more like) Mike and I once again look after the boat.  Come the evening though, it’s prize giving and it’s obvious we are not going to be quite so lucky tonight.

Sure enough, we get a prize for coming last, a little odd given that we had officially retired, but the award did mention that we were good sports.  Let’s hope Mike is still a good sport when he gets the bill for the repairs!

After the prizes there’s a lobster buffet and a disco.

 

Photos:  Après rally

Once the food it eaten it’s back to the boat and on with Gavin and Stacy.  What saddos we are.  Well some of us anyway.  Diane heads of to bed and Mal disappears outside to sleep with the mosquitoes – anything to avoid watching any more Brit TV!

Back to the Caribbean: 30/06/12

Well, a lot of land and air miles have passed beneath me since the last time I wrote but I make no apologies for that.  After all, the title of the blog is ‘Sailing Jeannius’ … and I wasn’t!

We rise at some ungodly hour from our bed in Worcester and drag two heavy bags into our hire car.  I doze all the way to London Gatwick – our plane is only scheduled to be half an hour late (which of course turns into an hour by the time we actually take off) and have a very hot flight to Barbados, checking in for a slightly delayed LIAT flight (which of course turns into nearly two hours).  There’s that ‘Leave Island Any Time’ theme again.  It wouldn’t be so bad if they would just keep you informed.  Still the Sauvignon Blanc in the executive lounge is good and cold and eventually we are airborne.

We take the puddle jumping flight – first to Antigua, where we get off and have to go through security again.  We are in transit.  Why the security again?  Where do they think we have been between the tarmac and the terminal?  Madness and lipservice to security.  The airport departure lounge is closed or at least, its few shops and catering facilities are, but at least it’s only about 40 minutes before we board again.  Although we are on the same flight continuing to Tortola, they have changed our plane and I wonder whether our bags will change too or whether LIAT will live up to its other name, ‘Luggage In Another Town’.

We hop from Antigua to Nevis, from Nevis to St Martin then eventually land on Beef Island, Tortola.  Amazingly our bags land with us and Derrick, a friendly taxi driver well known to us, is waiting with bottles of ice cold water to drink.  Half an hour later, he drops us at the boat.

The boat has not been cleaned as it came in so late today but the dirty linen has been removed and the clean linen is in the saloon.  I ignore it and drag our own stuff out from the bag and make our bed up.  By the time we flop, exhausted, on top of it, it is nearly midnight – 5 am UK time.  I sleep!