I wake up to the most awful crashing and banging. The boat is being thrown around like the proverbial corkscrew and the waves are crashing against the side. It wasn’t like this when I went to bed. I lie there trying to get back to sleep but a few minutes later Mike comes to get me anyway for my watch and I sleepily drag myself out of bed.
I am greeted with heavy seas, current which is running fast and in the opposite direction to the wind, a crap speed of only 3.5 to 4.5 knots despite winds of over 20 knots and a large freighter on the horizon. Mike makes his escape to bed and I watch the blob on the radar which, over the next half an hour, is joined by another three large blobs. There are now four very large vessels in the vicinity. Great! Then a fishing vessel appears and I stand and watch it getting closer although it passes about a mile away on our port side.
I get through the watch, grateful that it is the last one for a long time, and don’t hang around when Mike appears to take over. When I wake up, Grenada is there, an indistinct shape rising through the haze. The sea is still incredibly choppy and we are still going really slowly. Mike explains that when he switched the port engine on there was an explosion of white polystyrene. He had immediately switched the engine off as it was obvious that we had some sort of fishing contraption caught around our propeller. I can’t believe it. It was probably strung out from the fishing boat I saw last night but I looked very carefully and didn’t see a lit buoy anywhere around it. How the hell are you supposed to see these things in the night?
We limp along, crashing through confused sea, wondering what the bloody hell we have trailing behind us and we suddenly realise, at 10.56 am as we go around the south western corner of Grenada, that WE HAVE NOW CIRCUMNAVIGATED THE WORLD! I still don't feel like a sailor, rather a reluctant, truculent passenger who now and again presses buttons and helps Mike deal with the flappy bits! Sigh.
As we approach the capital of Grenada, St George, we are given the order in which to approach; Tucanon, poor old Basia then Eowyn. Mike wants to stay outside in the anchorage and dive under the boat to clear our propeller before going in but I want to go in with the others, even if it means turning around and going straight out again, which is what we eventually do.
As we approach the finish line. last of course, we start to hear the welcome committee well before we see them. About 6 dinghies filled with people have come out to greet us all. They are all waving and shouting, some wearing wigs, but all of them contributing to the welcome cacophony by blowing horns, trumpets, whistles and something which makes a noise like a bleating sheep. It is a wonderful welcome after a difficult passage. A returning charter boat looks on in amazement wondering what the hell is going on before joining in with the cheering.
No sooner are we in, than we turn around and head back out to the anchorage just outside the marina. Mike puts his snorkelling gear on and goes over the side, complaining as he does that the water is cold. It only takes 10 minutes but when he reappears it is with a couple of polystyrene floats and a load of polypropylene rope.
We immediately pull the anchor up and re-enter the marina, proudly flying our new red ensign. I wouldn’t let Mike take the old one down until we had completed our circumnavigation.
There are many hands to help us tie up and then the hugs begin, lots of them from our ‘fleet family’. Suzanna arrives with a rum punch for us. We pose for our arrival photo, me completely forgetting that I still have my ghastly hat on! Ah well, it has travelled with me for 25,000 miles. Who am I to deny it its moment of fame!
We are told that we have to be at the bar, like right now, so off we go. Once there, the hugs, kisses and tears start in earnest, and the drinks start arriving, starting with one of the most lethal rum punches I have ever tasted – and finished. After a couple of glasses of wine as well, I am practically done for. With little sleep and nothing to eat since last night, the alcohol hits me like sledge hammer (Mike has by this time disappeared to deal with the customs and immigration people).
Anna escorts me back to the boat. It is now 5.30 pm and we are supposed to attending a welcome party on Tzigane. I manage to strip myself off, clean my teeth and flop out on the bed. I have no knowledge of Mike leaving to go to the party, or of him returning. I sleep until 11 pm, wake, drink some water, have a slice of bread and go back to sleep. My bed doesn’t move and the boat is quiet. Bliss!
Our position is: 12 deg 02 min N, 61 deg 44 min W
Distance so far: 24539 nautical miles
Congratulations on your circumnavigation. I've got hooked on reading your blog, what am I going to do every morning now? Jean you really ARE a sailor now, there is no denying that. Mike, we look forward to meeting you at the Poker Run. Well done both of you.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations, well done, what a great achievement. We have followed you around the world with every blog, what are we going to do with no blog to follow??
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