The Road to the Horizon: St.Vincent

People sometimes get an idealistic idea about how it is to sail a yacht. True, I love sailing. I love the ocean, the freedom, even just the idea of moving on an endless sea merely pushed forward by wind and tides.

But when I go sailing with the family, it is different. Up comes the endless feeling of responsibility. In our family of four, I am the only one who knows how to sail a yacht. Tine, my wife, knows how to assist maneuvering a yacht in a harbour, and helps me steering the boat against the wind when I raise the sails, and she picks up a mooring buoy like no other, but she does not know how to sail. Our daughters, Lana (now 13) and Hannah (nearly 11), know how to sail a dinghy, but not a yacht.

So my nightmare is "what if something happens to me, while we are under sail"... Imagine for one or the other silly reason, I fall overboard - accidents happen on a yacht -, what then? Or even if it is just when getting into bad weather, where I would need skilled hands?
It is different if you have a crew that knows what to do. As the skipper, you stay on the helm and give simple orders: "Trim the main sail", "reef the foresail", "look up the course to the nearest port"... But when we sail with the family, it is different.
Even though I take every possible precaution to ensure the safety of my loved ones: I have taken every possible course. I have quite some experience in bad weather, in strong tides, sailing in busy commercial shipping lanes, sailing at night, and maneuvering in busy ports. I know how to read weather charts, calculate tides, and all radio procedures. I know first aid, and emergency procedures. I know how to anchor a ship, pick up a man over board, and maneuver in tight quarters. And still, when sailing with the family I always get nervous.

Let me tell you a story how fast things could go wrong.

Back in 2004, we sailed from in the Caribbean from Martinique to the Grenadines. One morning, we lift anchor from Bequia in the Grenadines, to sail to St.Lucia, about 60-70 nautical miles further North. The weather was nice and the forecast was perfect. I made one mistake: I calculated the trip to be a bit shorter if we passed St.Vincent -the next island North of Bequia- via the East, the Atlantic side, rather than the quieter Caribbean (East) side.

When we cut between Bequia and St.Vincent, the weather turned overcast, but the winds and the seas were quite calm. As we sailed past St.Vincent's East side, the wind picked up to about 15 knots, still quite easy, even though I could see some isolated squalls coming our way. I kept an eye on them and changed course regularly to pass in front or in the back of them. As we sailed along, we saw the skies getting darker, and I did not have a comfortable feeling. I put in a reef in the main sail, just in case, but did not get too worried until I saw a real dark squall heading our way, just as we were getting close to the North of St.Vincent.

I ordered the family to put on their life jackets, and clipped the kids with a lifeline onto the ship. I clipped myself onto the lifeline, put the ship on autopilot and went to the bow of the ship to put in the third reef in the main sail. Just as I stood hooked onto the main mast, it started raining, and the wind picked up. Tine dropped some of the main halyard so I could put the reef in the main sail. I got soaked by the spray and the rain. By the time I got back into the cockpit, the wind had picked up to 35 knots, turning and twisting from all sides. It was then I remembered someone warning us of the usual foul weather due to the huge mountain at the North of St.Vincent.

The sea turned into a boiling pot, with waves coming from all sides, spraying over the side of the boat, soaking my crew. We already had our rain jackets on, but it got really cold. The wind gusted from all directions, making it difficult to keep a course and to keep the sails filled, so the boat would hold a steady angle.

The rain gusted down, and the visibility was close to nil. Long had we lost sight of land. I had plotted our course, so I knew we were about five miles off land, but also knew there was no harbour this side of the island. It took probably half an hour until I realized something was wrong. The wind had shifted 90 degrees, and to keep the sails full, I had lost my bearing. The compass and my GPS indicated we were heading straight for land, sailing West instead of North...

I needed both hands at the helm, and told Tine we were getting off course. Once the going gets rough, Tine is all business. Even though I know she is not comfortable in foul weather (that is an understatement), she stood up, and told me calmly "Tell me what to do!". I told her to "take the green rope, put it over a winch clockwise, and to crank it up, until I told you to stop", an order which for an experienced crew would be "pull in the main tight". She did it perfectly. Next came "take the white and black rope, put it onto a winch, open up the clamp of the white rope, and start winching in the white and black rope", a order which would be "pull in the foresail". I revved up the engine, changed the course back to North and headed into the wind.

The wind was howling, the rain came down in buckets, and the waves gushed over the bow of the ship. We continued head-on into the wind, for what seemed an eternity, but in reality it was probably just one hour. The rain came down that violently I could see the dinghy, which we were towing behind our yacht, filling with water to the rim, slowing down the ship considerably. I kept on hoping that the engine would not fail as there was no way we would be able to sail on this course, head on into the wind. But the engine purred like a cat, and after a while the rain became lighter and all of a sudden, the kids shouted "Look there: dolphins!".

That is when I knew all would be ok. Dolphins have always been a token of good luck for me. So it was no surprise that as the pod of dolphins swam alongside the ship, the wind turned again, the rain stopped and the seas calmed down. The squall had passed us, with nothing else but clear skies ahead of us.

I put the ship on autopilot again, and pulled the dinghy closer to the yacht. I just had to heave out the water from the dinghy as it was slowing us down too much. I told Tine to keep an eye on the course, and got ready to jump into the dinghy, knowing if I would miss my jump, there was no way for me to get back onto the ship. So I jumped, heaved all water out of the dinghy, pulled myself onto the ship again, and away we were.

The silver lining of that trip came soon: the seas became dead calm, with a broad side steady wind blowing at 15 knots. I put all sails back up, and trimmed them. And boy, we sailed! With our 35 ft yacht, towing a dinghy, we sailed at 10-11 knots, at a perfect angle, and with perfectly trimmed sails for hours, until we reached St.Lucia.

The strange thing was that the kids had no idea in what danger we had been. The only thing they said "Dad that was exciting, when can we do that again?". Kids!

Some lessons learned:
- Never pass an island in the Caribbean on the Atlantic side.
- Always be prepared for the worse, and hope for the best.
- Be aware of high mountains in the vicinity of where you sail. Often the weather changes near them.
- Better one reef too much than one too little.
- Be prepared, be prepared, be prepared.
- When sailing with kids, make sure they always wear their safety jackets and are hooked onto the boat, in foul weather. You should be able to concentrate on the ship, and not have to worry where the kids are, and what they are doing.
- When things go bad, kids have to get into the habit of following orders without questioning...

More about sailing on The Road.

Read the full post...

July 19, 2005. Union Island, Grenadines - Caribbean.

Dear E.,

This morning, we arrived at Union island, to buy provisions. The harbour was a bit tricky to sail in. There was a low coral reef just at the water level, so we had to navigate all around it to find the entrance to the lagoon, but it was worth it: the view from where we anchored was magnificent. It is always how I imagined the Caribbean to look like. Clear blue green water. Waves crashing on the coral reef in front of us. Someone set up a small bar on a tiny island just behind the reef, in front of us. Barely enough place for a hut with a straw thatched roof, a couple of plastic chairs, flags flapping in the trade winds.
We ferried ashore with the dinghy to buy fruits, drinks, bread and some meat. While the girls are off to a boutique to buy some local souvenirs, I am now sitting in a restaurant/bar, right at the water's edge. No windows, almost like a balcony right above the water. The warm sea wind blows through the restaurant. It is quiet, I am the only customer, it is still early, mid morning.

I am looking over the harbour, over the ocean, and watch all the little things that happened, displayed in front of me, like a living painting with endless details. A dinghy comes in with two guys, and one almost falls into the water as they tried to step onto the dock. Two girls, early teenagers, trotting over the dock are giggling as the guy hangs onto the dock with both hands trying to his balance back. Two local boys and a French youngster try to get an outboard engine running. A family docks a sail yacht at the end of the pier, to fill up their water tanks. A ferry offloads small containers and boxes. A water taxi shuttles people in, and then speeds off to welcome an incoming yacht, and to take it to a mooring buoy. At the end of the jetty, the local baker with a small stand filled with French bread and croissants, hangs out with some local water taxi drivers, talking to the girls passing by. A young girl sits on the edge of the jetty, legs hanging above the water, clearly doing what I am doing: enjoying the moment, the smell, the feeling of the wind in her hair.

The atmosphere is relaxed. 'Take it easy, mon! Stay cool' is what I hear everywhere. The locals greet with a ‘shake’: softly touching fists by the knuckles and then touching their heart with their fist while making a wish. Goldfinger, the guy who brought us ice and bread yesterday, when we were still moored in the Tobago Cays, gave me a shake, and said 'One love!' What a wish, hey, ‘One Love’.

Every morning, wherever we are moored in the neighbourhood, the local fishermen/water taxis come alongside our boat to check if we want to buy fresh bread, fish, ice or souvenirs. They are big rastas in small wooden boats painted in bright colours with imaginative names. They love both of our girls. We always get things for free because of them. The girls speak a few words of English, and seduce them with their smiles. Tine is always sitting on the background, smiling, watching our children grow. I love talking and joking with the fishermen, and they are always in for a chat and a laugh. Sydney, who sold us some Tshirts ‘Work less – Sail more, Come to the Tobago Cays’, stayed alongside our boat for over an hour. We talked about Trinidad where he came from originally, and about Africa. He wants to go to Africa and start up a small business there. Tanzania seems to be his favourite place. It is strange imagining Sydney, with his long rasta curls and his colourful knitted hat, doing business in rural Tanzania.
'One love'.

Most of the water taxi drivers / vendors are based here in Union Island. We have been in the area for over a week now, and meet some of these guys back in town, or as they lay at the entrance of the harbour waiting to guide a boat in, or as they race by, selling their stuff. They recognize us, and wave at us, holding up their fist in a greeting, smiling.
‘One Love’.

We met a French couple who were anchored next to us in Petit Sint Vincent, a couple of days ago. Patrice and Michaela, and their two sons, Fabrice and Victor. Patrice came over to our boat asking if Lana and Hannah would be interested in coming over to play with their kids. They ferried over, and we did not see the kids back for a whole afternoon. In the evening we all had a cocktail on shore. Our dinghy outboard died for the 3rd time, so we had to paddle to the shore, and they towed us back to our boat. The next day, Lana and Hannah were back on their boat before we left to the Tobago Cays, an uninhabited chain of small islands 15 miles further, to meet up with them again. Together, we went snorkeling, floating in the current over the coral amongst zillions of colourful fish, as if it was an aquarium. The girls saw a baby shark, a meter long, playing right at the water’s edge, with its belly on the sand, and its back just above water. It kept on circling close to the beach, and we watched it for 10 minutes. The kids were ecstatic.

We had arranged with Boutique, one of the local vendors/water taxi drivers to organize a barbeque for us on one of the deserted beaches in the evening. It was a lovely evening. Sitting on makeshift wooden benches on an empty beach, looking at the sunset. Tine had bought sparkling wine and beer a couple of days ago. Patrice and Michaela brought two bottles of wine, and Boutique had rum punch. So we toasted on love, life and friendship. We laughed and joked a lot, by the light of kerosene lamps, kids playing in the water on the beech, and Boutique, getting more and more drunk as we shared our drinks with him. The food was good. The company was good. The moon was good. By the time we finished the last beers, we were all pretty tipsy. I only realized how much the island was moving when I stood up. We had beached the dinghies, so had a ball laughing ourselves silly, trying to get the dinghies back through the surf. We had a hard time trying to find back our boat which we left for anchor somewhere - there were many boats moored in the Cays that day. I guess we tried different boats, until we found ours. We just could not stop laughing. The kids went to bed. Tine and I, still tipsy, went for a skinny dip, and lay on deck under the bright full moon until the sun came up.
‘One love’!

Soft reggae music plays everywhere. Often Bob Marley. I did not know this was your all time favourite. I once had a tape from Bob Marley, which I always played on my walkman (yes I am that old, I come from the times where the first walkmans were with cassette tapes! hihi). Will have to buy some CDs from Bob here. 'One love'. It made me think of you, and the Bob Marley song you mentioned just before you got married: 'Everything will be alright'.
That is also the feeling I have right now. 'Every little thing will be all right'... At this moment, I feel so interwoven with the love for the moment, the here and now. I am sending you my thoughts, the warmth of this place, as the wind subsided, and the skies are opening up.
'One Love'.

P. in the C.(aribbean)