The Pawelski Family
Sailing The British Virgin Islands
Being the travel journal of Rick Pawelski, who with his wife Tracy, his 14-year old daughter Juliet, and his 12-year old son Daniel, joined the crew of the notorious Captain Graybeard and Captain Cook, otherwise known as Jim and Kathy Jackson.
(click on any photo to view a larger image)
Saturday, 6/14/08
As we waited at the gate at BWI airport, regulators in our carry-on baggage, BCD’s and food stuffed into duffel bags in the airliner’s hold, Danny said to Jim Jackson: “Some people think adventure means going to Disney World.” I got a chuckle out of that. I suppose adventure means going where you haven’t been before and doing what you haven’t done before, and by that definition we are certainly off on an adventure. Tracy, Danny, Juliet and I are joining our friends Jim & Kathy Jackson for a week of sailing, snorkeling, and diving in the British Virgin Islands. Kathy’s a diving instructor and we got some instruction from her in a pool in Lancaster a few months ago – clearing your mask & regulator, basic stuff. Jim & Kathy have been doing this on charters and as boat owners for 15 years or so, and we’ve gotten together to go over provisioning stuff, packing, etc… a few times. Now we’re off, having awakened at 3:30 A.M. to get to BWI by 6:00 for and 8:00 flight...
Of course the American Airlines 757 had to return to the terminal to heal a sick electrical part. Airline travel these days seems to be at a crossroads between its past days of affordability and reliability, and a future of less service for more money. But anyway, we were only 15 minutes late into San Juan, caught our connection to Beef Island, cleared customs below the Bamboo and Travelers Palms, and the luggage even showed up eventually (my clothes took an extra 10 minutes or so to appear on the carousel – several other travelers anxiously waited with us for one last bag).
Having reached the marina in Roadtown on Tortola by a slightly sporty minivan ride, we started in on things that are semi-routine to cruising sailors like the Jacksons but new to us – settling our stuff into the 47-ft. “Renoir II”, stowing away the provisions we brought with us, and heading for a local market where we filled three carts. That includes things like 14 gallons of water, 2 cases of beer, etc… but we’re still buying for the week. Kathy has the menu planning & provisioning highly organized; she ran over the list while the rest of us fanned out in search of items.
After bucket-brigading the provisions on board, we stowed everything and headed to C&F’s Restaurant, a favorite of the Jacksons for as long as they’ve been coming here. The ribs and chicken were that good, certainly, and we continued asking Jim & Kathy about their sailing experiences and what to expect this week. The Pawelski’s were all fading a bit and we hit our bunks hard at the end of a long travel day.
Sunday, 6/15/08
Got up early, took advantage of the shower facilities in the marina, and took in the sight of maybe 200 boats bobbing in their slips, many on their way out today. The dawn breeze kept flags waving in the rigging as bilge pumps provided soft background music. Villas of all sorts looked down from the hills of Tortola as baitfish splashed and needlefish patrolled in the shadows of the yachts.
Still quite a bit to do before getting underway: checklists, last minute provisioning, and a good bit of instruction for some of us – everything from where to stow gear to marine toilet use. Jim arranged for rental of six air tanks and we lashed them to the mast. Since Jim & Kathy are boat owners and regular visitors and it was a busy morning in the marina, we didn’t need all the briefings a renter is required to attend. We newcomers were all assigned some specific tasks for the week. Danny’s the dinghy wrangler, Juliet is in charge of the hatches, Tracy makes sure the gas is shut off under the stove and I make sure all the valves and pumps in each of the three heads are set properly. We had thought up some pirate names for ourselves before (I was going to be “Mr. Clean”, Juliet was “Mahi”), but now that the practical matters of getting around the ocean on a wind borne dwelling have taken over we became “Dinghy Boy”, “Hatch Girl”, “Queen of the Gas” and “The Headmaster”.
We got under way a little after 11:00, motoring out of the slip past a big cruise ship that came in overnight. We got out a bit and hoisted sails. Jim turned on the 70’s funk music and we trimmed sails to tack our way across Francis Drake Channel to Cooper Island. In places you could see the bottom in 50 feet of water as the sun rose in the tropical sky. Schools of fish ripping the surface were a common sight as they pursued baitfish and seagulls cleaned up. The YachtShots guy came by – a photographer in a stand-up rig on an inflatable dinghy – and we’ll look for his shots on yachtshotsbvi.com. Morning gave way to afternoon as we soaked up the sun and the wind under a close-hauled mainsail and a Genoa jib.
Tracy has the occasional problem with motion sickness, and she started feeling the effects of the swell. She put on a set of the wrist bands that press against a certain point on the inside of the wrist. They worked. She felt better, although her wrists started hurting after a day or so. By Day 3 she didn’t need them anymore.
Dead Chest and the ghosts of perhaps 15 pirates slid by to starboard and we pulled up to a mooring ball in Manchioneel Bay, on the Northwest side of Cooper Island. Tracy helped Kathy get lunch ready and I hopped in to snorkel a bit with the kids. We headed to a rocky spit just to the right of the Cooper Island Beach Club, an 11-room resort popular with divers. We saw Yellowtail and Yellow Goatfish, a big Red Hind and a small Barracuda, and an assortment of the usual reef fish. Then we climbed back aboard for some delicious sandwiches.
We were thinking about getting back in the water and Juliet was standing on the dive step messing around with gear when she knocked a flipper in. Jim asked “floater or sinker”? Sinker. I dove for it and got it off the bottom in 40 feet. My left ear still stings a bit.
After we calmed down, Tracy, the kids and I snorkeled up and headed Southwest along the shoreline. We saw clouds of baitfish, Surgeonfish, Squirrelfish, a group of big Starfish, Sea Urchins, Parrotfish, etc… we were all pointing to a school of little grunts on the bottom when we turned and saw a big barracuda, 4 feet long or so, swim by like he didn’t even know we were there. I saw a Spanish Hogfish and Juliet & I watched a camouflaged crab burrow into the sand. Heading back to the boat we saw a big Stingray and some attendant Bar Jacks. I noticed some small Yellow Jacks mixed in with the Yellow Goatfish, hovering as the goatfish dug, searching for scraps. Sand Tilefish hovered over their nests on the bottom and dove into tunnels on our approach. There were some Garden Eels by the mooring line, and some weird little squid hiding under the boat, half black and half clear, twisting in the current.
After we regrouped and told stories of what we had seen, Jim & Kathy went in with the kids while Tracy & I started getting dinner ready. Back at the marina someone had given us a bit of the latest charcoal substitute, a cardboard-and-fuel thing that worked pretty well once I got the grill mounted to the stern rail. The burgers were a bit overdone and a bit too salty, but fortunately the diners were hungry. Kathy’s fruit dip and potato salad were very good.
Juliet had seen a Moray Eel, Danny saw Trumpetfish, and Jim went on a solo trip towards Cistern Point where he and a 5+ foot Tarpon found each other. With burgers on the grill, the sun was under the yardarm and the Carib beer was cold. The moon shone brightly and Tortola’s lights were surprisingly numerous. The rocking of the boat and the day’s exertions soon sent us to our cabins for the night.
Monday, 6/16/08
The wind kicked up at midnight, knocking things around and swinging the boat back and forth. Danny was a little spooked, so he & I traded bunks for the rest of the night; he joined Tracy in the cabin on the port quarter while I headed up to the bunk bed on the starboard bow, right behind the V-berth where Juliet was enjoying more bunk room than anyone. We each rose in our own due time. Danny & I saw a turtle and a fleeing shoal of baitfish before the ladies rose and joined us for egg burritos and juice. Then we got ready to dive.
The original plan was to go in by Cistern Point, but Jim’s reconnaissance the night before showed an offshore current that could have been problematic. The Jacksons figured our first dive should be about getting the gear straightened out and betting used to being underwater. We took the dinghy over to the beach and suited up in the shallows. Danny’s hair tends to get in his mask, Tracy took a while to find her comfort zone, and I took ten minutes or so to stop wondering when I could swallow. The only problem with Juliet was in holding her back. She pressed the edges of the buddy-system envelope a bit, making short jaunts of her own, but it worked out OK. Kathy worked with Tracy a bit to get her over the initial discomfort, Danny stopped messing with his mask, and we made our way through the shallows. Kathy pointed out some Christmas Tree Worms – touch their feathery appendages and they shoot back into their tubular homes. We saw some Lizardfish poised on the bottom, and after a while we headed out along the bottom towards the boat. Everyone got into the rhythm and we kicked along, 35 feet down, watching our bubbles head home to the atmosphere. Bar Jacks large and quite small swam by, and the occasional Barracuda gave us a one-eyed once-over. We stopped to get our bearing over an enormous Sea Cucumber. Some of us petted it; not like it was going to run away or anything, it’s like a rolled-up welcome mat with skin. We saw the Garden eels again, then slowly ascended along the mooring line. A success for everyone, instructors and students.
Food always tastes better after an adventure and the hotdogs were devoured quickly. Danny and I had swum ashore, chasing ballyhoo along the way, and retrieved the dinghy. Then I headed below to get some reef runners on and help Jim take the tanks ashore to be filled. I slipped off the top step, and as I sailed down past the other three steps I had a flash of recognition that when I hit bottom anything could happen. Fortunately, not much did: bump on the head (add it to the collection) and a bruise on the back. I’m not fast, but I am fairly robust.
After lunch Jim fired up the diesel for a short trip to Salt Island. We motored past Cistern Point and the opening to Wreck Alley and dropped anchor in just enough water to clear the keel (turns out the depth finder was a bit off), in the lee of an island best known as the place where the pitiful few survivors of the HMS Rhone washed up. Tracy and I swam ashore, past the Barracuda that had immediately taken up a shady spot under the hull, and took a walk inshore. We passed maybe the only inhabited dwelling on the island and the stone cairns marking the graves of some of the Rhone dead. We walked from one salt pond to the next, each with crystals encrusting the waterline. On the Western shore, near where the Rhone went down, two more graves were marked by crosses in the stone. We ran some goats off their shady spot on the way back, and the one that got separated bleated to the other three as if to say “wait for me!” Outcrops of volcanic rock and low scrubby hills lent an otherworldly sense of isolation to the place, a desolate spot to be buried.
We joined the kids and snorkeled along the rock & coral to the West of the anchorage. Palometas darted through clouds of silt that we kicked up, and the antlered coral formations were impressive. The usual retinue of various Parrotfish, Tangs, and Butterflyfish was in attendance along with various damselfish including the small, striking Blue Chromis.
Around 4:00 we saddled up and headed back to Manchioneel Bay, past a rocky point on the end of Salt Island that looks like a sphinx. We moored for one more night in the bay and enjoyed some hors d’ouvres with a wonderful artichoke-and-cheese dip Kathy made. Then a t-shirt I had hung on the rail went overboard – I should have strung the line through the arm holes. I reached for a mask after it sank past an outstretched boat hook, but Jim said he’d go after it this time. He plucked it off the bottom, apparently with not too much trouble. Now my Snowbird shirt holds my wardrobe record for deep diving. Since I was in the water I went for an evening swim. Things were a little more active along the rocky point we had visited earlier. Squirrelfish were moving, instead of hiding. Juvenile French Angelfish, black with yellow bands, swam under a school of Needlefish and a lone Spanish Mackerel finned by, headed somewhere.
We dined on baked chicken, salad and key lime pie, as Jim & Kathy told us how they met 20 years ago at a Lancaster Ski Club meeting. Tracy asked earlier in the day how they met, but we figured the tale should wait until dinner. The all-but-full moon shone brightly on the anchorage, a few plush motor yachts mixed in with the sailboats. Catamarans are popular, and racks of dive tanks competed with kayaks for rail space. A few songs on the guitar, one more cold Carib, and off to bed. We visit The Baths tomorrow.
Tuesday, 6/17/08
We had a quick breakfast of banana bread and juice and got moving for The Baths. It was a windy morning, with a bit of a chop, but everyone seems to have their sea legs and all felt fine as we ran the “iron jib” to get to Virgin Gorda by the most direct route. We passed a boat hull washed up on the Northeast side of Ginger Island, as Fallen Jerusalem came into view. A year and a half ago, during a day trip on the “Born To Rhumb” out of St. John, we saw an interisland ferry aground on some rocks. It’s still there, nose-up, high and dry, a reminder to all that the channel is on the West side of Round Rock.
The Baths is a wonderful place where piles of house-sized boulders are heaped along the waterline, and a trail goes over, under and around the rocks and the water. Of course, more people come through every year. There were plenty of boats moored there at 9:00 when we pulled in. We snorkeled in, pulling our reef runners in a dry bag and carrying a disposable waterproof camera. We got ashore and hung up our fins, carrying our masks to splash around in pools. We made our way through the rocky obstacle course. Kathy came with us, and kept us moving in the right direction as it’s easy to get sidetracked, especially when you’re under 21 or so. There was a set of pools about 2/3 of the way through where baitfish swam back and forth in the tidal wash. I climbed the rocks for a picture or two, then lost my footing coming down, flailed wildly and smacked the camera against a rock. She ain’t waterproof no more.
I made it past the hanging rocks all the way out to Devil’s Pool, where tiny fish formed bait balls and a lone needlefish hung patiently, drifting at the surface. The crowds were definitely picking up, dinghies full of people coming in from commercial boats. We headed back and I bounced my head off a rock I’d ducked under just 15 minutes before. We waited behind a tour group and eventually made it back to our fins. I held the camera above water on the way out. A group of Yellowtail waited in the shadow of the Boat. They fought for orange peels, at least at first, as we had lunch.
Over pasta salad we talked about Jim & Kathy’s experiences with group travel. One of Jim’s observations is that it’s best not to hash out problems in front of the group because everyone’s going to have their own solution. It’s best to figure things out first and then present conclusions to the group.
After lunch we hoisted the sails, heading up the Western side of Virgin Gorda and around the Dogs, out onto the open sea. The wind was in the teens, gusting to 20, and we made better than 7 knots on a beam reach. After we pulled around to a broad reach and we weren’t heeling so much, Danny & I broke out the pre-algebra book and finished chapter 2. I was ready to leave a few problems for later, but he wanted to finish it up. When we finished, though, he was a little queasy. Guess we need to save the book work for the anchorage.
We came down around the North side of Beef Island and pulled into Marina Cay, a small, beautiful, and busy mooring spot. We settled in and Tracy, the kids and I got into snorkeling gear and set out. We headed for the South end of the island, working our way through moored yachts and past the 60 ft. sportfisher at the gas dock, working against the current the whole way. We were headed for a point at the end of the island, but by the time we got there we hadn’t seen much other than barracudas and a school of grunts under the dock. The wind and current on the far side of the point were pretty rough, beating waves against the island, so we reversed course and swam North past the tiki bar and gift shop, walked across the beach and headed North along the inside of the reef extending from that end of the island. Again, not much to see but broken coral and the occasional stingray or broken-off anchor debris. Finally we headed back to the boat and pulled up after an hour of swimming. Tracy & Danny went aboard but Juliet and I made one more try while Tracy washed her hair on the stern.
We headed across the boat channel to the East side of Great Camanoe Island. The current was still strong and there was boat traffic, so we did the crawl to get to the other side of the channel quickly. The drop off along the channel was lined with coral, rock, enormous sea fans, and fish. We worked into the current and Jim motored over in the dinghy to keep an eye on us.
Juliet found a triggerfish of some kind, and big parrotfish were everywhere. We saw some Sailor’s Choice, a species of grunt I had not seen (or at least had not noticed ) before. We made it back to the boat after another 30 minutes of swimming.
After a little down time and a Scrabble game, we all boarded the dinghy and put ashore to discover Marina Cay. We walked up the central hill through gardens and past the croquet lawn, then walked through the house built by hand on the hilltop. We passed through the gift shop – nothing we can’t live without – and settled in to a table in the bar/restaurant to sample the local boat drinks. House music was John Denver and Leo Sayer, about as un-Caribbean as it gets. The drinks were old school, though. Grog for me (rum, lime juice, and sugar cane), a Caribbean Margarita for Tracy and a Piña Colada for Kathy, with virgin Strawberry daiquiris for the kids and a coke with a glass, ice and a straw for Jim. Refreshing, and the seagulls going after diners’ meals put on an air show for us.
Back to the boat, where I cooked Zatarain’s red beans & rice with sausage (which I smuggled into the country ) and packaged seafood (ditto). Unfortunately a bit too spicy. I hadn’t remembered that the sausage is zesty, and the rice is spiced also. Aaaahhhh ….
Wednesday, 6/18/08
The day started with Kathy’s Caribbean French Toast. Some butter and fresh mango on top, and I don’t remember when I had a tastier breakfast. It rained on and off overnight, so some of us were up and down closing hatches in the small hours. After breakfast we dried out and waited for the launch to come around the anchorage selling t-shirts and some fresh bread and produce. Mr. Aragorn does beautiful work, and we each picked out a shirt ($29 a pop, though – “support local artists” indeed). Then we cleared the decks for action. We motored out of the anchorage, between Great and Little Camanoe Islands, and around the South end of Guana Island to a bay behind Monkey Point. It’s a scenic place, with a colony of terns and a few pelicans that kept busy diving for fish in the shallows. We tied up to a mooring ball and broke out the scuba gear.
We went over the dive plan, talked about how to do a giant step off the stern, and in we went. As we lined up along the anchor line, waiting to get started, we looked down and there was a squadron of squid finning over an outcrop below us. We went down the line to the bottom and headed in to the coral gardens closer to shore. We saw lots of Damselfishes, Parrotfish, Tangs, etc… Kathy led the dive with Tracy on one side and Juliet on the other. Danny and I came next, with Jim patrolling the rear of the formation. There were some keeper-size yellowtail looking us over, and a lizardfish made a kill right in front of the girls. The ladies also saw a sea turtle, but we boys didn’t get a look. We all got the chance to peek under a rock at a nurse shark holed up for the day. We saw a banded coral shrimp holed up under some stones, and the school of squid was back under our anchor line. Jim swam around and herded them towards us, and they changed color from dark to light as they went by.
Up the rope we went to finish our dive. We all have things we can improve on – Juliet tends to drift up or off from the group, Danny’s hands are busy fiddling with his gear, I tend to flail my arms a bit trying to maintain position, and Tracy’s working on her depth control. But we’re seeing things, making strides, and avoiding major problems. Kathy and Jim, of course, are excellent tutors, by turns patient, informative, in control, and well prepared, and I suppose there are few places where a beginning diver can find a better place to learn. Not sure if the kids will keep up with diving in the future or not, but they certainly won’t forget this experience.
Lunch was a fajita sort of thing, which we fairly tore into. The school of Sergeant Majors hanging around under the boat was eager to chase scraps, but that attracted gulls – they always know what’s going on. Then we prepared to make way, hoisted the sails, and soon we were wing-on-wing, headed for Jost Van Dyke in front of a mild breeze on a stunning afternoon. The North shore of Tortola slid by, and a few other boats headed our way as Juliet dozed on the bow with the jib sheet occasionally brushing against her.
We passed Green Cay and rounded Sandy Spit, sliding between Little Jost Van Dyke and JVD to moor at Diamond Cay. It’s yet another beautiful spot, with little in the way of shore facilities, only the hills and the scrub and a few goats to keep an eye on the dozen or so boats that spent the night there. The kids had some fun jumping off the back of the boat, while we nominal adults talked in the galley about the experience of learning to dive. Jim & Kathy have seen it all in their many dive trips, and they have just the right perspective to help the beginner struggle with the adjustment to the somewhat cumbersome, silent-but-for-breathing, variable-gravity world we’re entering.
Tracy and I took a quick snorkel with the kids along the rocky edge of little Jost Van Dyke. Lots of Sea Cucumbers – Tracy finds them weird – and the Parrotfish ran for cover when we came around a rock. Gray Snapper and Spotted Goatfish swam by, and a goat bleated at us from a cactus-covered rock.
Back to the boat where Tracy made the kids wash their hair with the fresh-water hose on the stern. Pork roast and carrots for dinner (Juliet went after the carrots with a vengeance), and after a game of Apples to Apples in the galley, Kathy broke out a wonderful mango and apple cobbler. The full moon climbed over Tortola, and everyone lapsed into sleep at their own pace, on island time.
Thursday, 6/19/08
The steady breezes by Diamond Cay kept us cooled off overnight, and I had to wake Tracy and the kids at 7:00 to get pancakes going on the galley stove. I’ve got to remember to check unfamiliar frying pans when I travel for that band of bare metal down at the base of the handle – I scorched a finger but that didn’t seem to damage the product. I made a double batch while considering where to store leftovers but there weren’t any. Wrapping a thin pancake around some mango/apple cobbler was particularly tasty.
The BVI is an hour ahead of the East coast, so in a sense I forgot to reset my watch. However, the BVI doesn’t observe daylight savings time, so I got it right after all. Not that time matters much down here; unless you’re trying to make happy hour, sunrise and high tide are the only timepieces that matter.
After breakfast we motored a half mile or so to Sandy Spit, a postcard of the Caribbean – about an acre of mostly sand with some palm trees. The water is brilliant turquoise over the sandy parts of the bottom, and a reef with a few feet of water over it stretches to Green Cay. We snorkeled ashore and took a few pictures, then we flippered along the edge of Green Cay. There were lots of coral and rock shelves for fish to hide under – I should have taken a light. We saw plenty of Stoplight Parrotfish, both standard and supermale, and Trumpetfish along with the usual riot of Grunts, Snappers, and Damselfish. Juliet found a shark dozing under one of the shelves. She told the rest of us and one by one we all said we couldn’t see it until all of a sudden we did. I got real close without being able to discern anything, then it moved so I moved out. Nurse Shark, maybe six feet long.
We sat on Sandy Spit a bit more, checking out the sand – a mix of white, black, green, and red grains that I haven’t noticed elsewhere. Then we headed back to the boat and caught up with Jim and Kathy who had taken a dive at a spot in the channel between Little JVD and Green Cay. After tuna salad wraps for lunch, and the kids’ doing KP a bit grudgingly, we got the sails up and headed for the other end of Jost Van Dyke.
It was another dazzling afternoon, the skies blue but for some puffy white clouds and the air crystalline as we ran back and forth between Jost Van Dyke and Tortola on a close reach each way, making 3 or 4 knots in 16 knots of wind. We pulled up to White Bay but there was no room at the inn. Motor yachts, catamarans and day-trip boats from a Ritz-Carlton (in St. Thomas, we think) filled all the mooring spots. We dropped sail and headed back East, past Great Harbor. Tracy and I sat up on the bow, taking in the view. Steep, primeval-looking slopes of JVD slid by and an Eagle Ray passed us on a reciprocal course. As we pulled into Little Harbor, Kathy joined us on the bow. Then Jim joined us, too, prompting the question “Hey, who’s driving the boat?” Juliet was taking a turn at the helm as we rounded Black Point and headed in to a mooring ball in what the map in the Lonely Planet book calls Garner Bay, but which the rest of the world knows as Little Harbor, home of Sydney’s Peace and Love.
Dan and I took an exploratory snorkel – it’s not really a spot known for snorkeling. We saw some little stuff near the shoreline over a grassy bottom in spotted visibility. I think we found a Mutton Hamlet sitting on a rock. After a while the water silted up so we reversed course and swam across the anchorage to the inside of Black Point. A rocky wall sloped down at about a 45 degree angle, with small fish and lots of Christmas Tree Worms about. We put ashore and walked around some docks to avoid boat traffic, and put back in at a mangrove-edged beach where the locals keep a few boats. The sunken remains of a 25 foot wooden boat sat in four or five feet of water, attended by hundreds of small Grunts and Snappers. We headed back to the Renoir II and just before we got there I looked up and saw a school of what I think were good-sized bonefish. They didn’t hang around long enough for a real good look, though.
After I pan-fried some chicken to put into fried rice later on, we hopped in the dinghy and visited Sydney’s Peace and Love, where you serve yourself behind the bar underneath signed t-shirts left by hundreds of college team logos from all over the US waved in the rafters alongside “WBBY Welcomes Meatloaf” and “I’ve Got My Eye On You” under a pirate with an eye patch. We had a few beers – juice and soda for the kids – and talked with some folks from California while Juliet had some braids put in her hair. Back at the boat I whipped up some fried rice with chicken, the last of the leftover pork, and anything else laying around. By the time we were done it was pushing 9:00 and no one had much energy left. The full moon crept through the clouds over Tortola and we all faded off to sleep.
Friday, 6/20/08
Last day to work through the stuff in the ice box. Breakfast was eggs, bacon, potatoes, wraps, and dried fruit. I did some pre-Algebra with Dan as we motored out of Little Harbour (British spelling around here) past bait balls with diving birds and jumping fish. Tracy took the starboard jib sheet, Juliet helped raise the mainsail, and we heeled over a bit in 20 knots of wind. We headed for the dive shop at Soper’s Hole, behind Frenchman’s Cay on the West end of Tortola. We had been discussing the question of where Monkey Point got it’s name, since there aren’t any monkeys around here. Kathy was struck with inspiration and rendered her suggestion in lyrical form:
A young Carib lad, a little spunky
Danced on the top deck, a little drunky
He fell off the boat
Swam ashore like a goat
And once there danced around like a monkeySounds as reasonable an explanation as any, and more entertaining than most.
Soper’s hole offered a half hour of shopping around while the tanks got filled. Juliet bought grape juice twice – one bottle that she broke on the floor and one more that she safely drank. Tracy picked up a few decals, and I found the ice cream counter. After a week on the boat, just walking into an air conditioned building is a novelty.
Jim ran the rest of the group back to the boat in the dinghy, then he and I ferried the six air tanks back. The charter company provided us with a rack made out of 1-inch PVC to hold the tanks, everything lashed to the mast. The rack has been falling apart, though, a little more each day.
We set out into the narrow passage between St. John and Tortola, heading East for the Indians. The wind was blowing 20, gusting to 25, and we used mainsail only at first. All the monohulls we saw were doing that, while the catamarans had jibs up, too. We were heeling over a bit, tacking into an East wind, when the rack full of tanks started sliding around. Kathy went forward, braced her feet against the gunwale, and leaned up against the tanks, holding them in place. Meanwhile, we got to a wider part of the channel and it looked like wind and wave were about to calm down a bit. So we put the jib out, too, and maintained a close reach. I helped out with the sheets as we tacked, then went forward to spell Kathy, leaning into the tanks with my feet on the port gunwale. After a while Kathy went back to the cockpit with the rest of the group.
Which was fortunate, because that’s when the weather turned ugly. The wind picked up, the waves got bigger, and I rode the swells up front, pushing the air tanks with my back and holding onto a line with one hand. Every once in a while the wind would shift to the side and we’d heel over farther, the rail touching the water as we pounded over and through waves. It occurred to me that I might never do something like this again, so I should try to fully appreciate the moment. Finally, the wind grew too strong to keep both sails up, full whitecaps everywhere we looked. But when it was time to roll the jib up, the wind stepped up yet another notch. No one could get the jib furled until Jim got the furling line on a winch and started cranking for several long minutes. Meanwhile the dangling jib created so much drag that we couldn’t get the bow turned into the wind. We drifted briefly in a beam sea, jib and its sheets flailing madly with me in the middle of it, remembering the old quote repeated at the beginning of one of the chapters in The Perfect Storm about how men could only look “from land to sea, from sea to land, and realize how unimportant they all were.”
I was never really scared of anything other than those air tanks coming loose. It’s a 47 foot boat with a lead keel, and Jim and Kathy know their stuff. On the other hand, everyone was too busy to check the wind gauge at the height of all the excitement, but later Jim saw it coming down through 35 knots. At one point my left foot was in the water as I leaned into the tanks and horizontal rain started testing the structural limits of my sunglasses. Finally Jim and Kathy got the jib in most of the way and the bow turned into the wind. I stayed up front for another hour or so as we motored into, over and through the wind-driven sea to Norman Island Bight. It was really sort of fun, and I had a smile on for most of it. Danny melted down a bit, but I don’t blame him. This is what I mean about how it’s good to get out of your comfort zone every now and then.
We made the Bight around 2:00 P.M., pulling in past a catamaran with a shredded jib hanging in tatters. We had some lunch, then set up for a dive in the Bight since the Indians were exposed to the winds and seas. We had practiced stepping in off the stern on Wednesday, holding our mask and regulator in our right hand and our dive computer in our left and signaling OK once we were safely in the water. We swam up to the mooring line for our descent, when Tracy decided she wasn’t ready to dive this day. It was really a thoughtful decision and not that easy to make. She just didn’t have the comfort level with the conditions (a little cloudy), and the equipment. So Kathy and Juliet headed down the line, which was encrusted in various forms of marine life. When Danny swung around the mooring ball, he hit his elbow on the line and on a bit of Fire Coral attached to it. For a minute or two I thought we weren’t going anywhere, but the stinging in Danny’s arm got better and we pressed on.
We headed across the open bottom and past a school of fish I couldn’t identify (maybe small bonefish) to the coral heads lining the shore in 10 or 12 feet of water. Blue and Brown Chromis were everywhere, we saw Queen and French Angelfish, and some big Porgies hovered nearby. Dan and I think they were Jolthead Porgies, but the group doesn’t have consensus on that. Jim toyed with a Banded Coral Shrimp and the ladies spooked some Red Hinds. We came across a big Southern Stingray, poking around in the sand while two Porgies hovered above. As we headed out past a small grotto, the resident reef fish started acting nervous, darting around a lot. I figure that was caused by a school of Horse-eye Jacks that swam by a moment later. We ascended in open water, Juliet working with Kathy and the boys with Jim to maintain a safe rate of ascent. Back aboard, we got the tanks stowed and the gear laid out to dry by around 5:30. A bit more math work with Dan, and it was time for hors d’ouvres with the last of the boat’s cheese. Kathy made a splendid pasta dinner, and we toasted each other and the close of a week which we all agreed exceeded expectations – and personally, my expectations were high to begin with.
We switched mooring balls before dinner, and as the sun went down the crowd at Willie T’s floating restaurant got raucous, and the wind carried shouted lyrics to “Honky Tonk Women” over the water. Tracy, Danny and I laid on the bow for a good look at the stars, since the moon hadn’t come up yet. The North Star was down around 20 degrees, and we all saw a shooting star slash the curtain of night, one more flash of excitement at the end of an exciting day.
Saturday, 6/21/08
A gusty night, the wind loud in the halyards, pushing the boat around on the end of its mooring line. We had a quick breakfast of granola and yogurt as Norman Island Bight slowly came to life. A scruffy guy in a dinghy wandered from boat to boat; we tried to guess if he was trying to find his vessel after a late night, or collecting mooring fees in no discernible pattern, or what.
Speaking of scruffy, I haven’t shaved all week. Got a good look in a mirror at Soper’s Hole yesterday and I’m still not capable of producing decent facial hair. The last time I let it go this long was 8 or 9 years ago. I just look sort of dirty.
We popped around the corner and moored at the sea caves for a quick snorkel before heading for port (the Indians was crowded already at 8:00 A.M.). It’s a beautiful place, with coral heads, walls, and of course the caves. We brought some lights and ventured into a small cave that went back into the rock. Rock Hinds, Squirrelfish and Banded Coral Shrimp appeared in the flashlight beam as we headed into the dark tunnel. Maybe 50 feet in, the cave took a sharp turn to the right. That was far enough for me. I wonder if that’s where they found pirate treasure a century ago – it looks like a good hiding place to me. The Yellowtail were inquisitive, swimming along with us. We saw a Saucer-eye Porgy and Schoolmaster Grunts hovering under rocks. You could hear crackling under water from Parrotfish chewing the coral.
We headed back to the boat around 8:45 and rinsed off with freshwater. Danny’s snorkel disappeared overboard somewhere during boarding. Jim and Kathy didn’t seem too concerned; the last time they dove the Indians they found three snorkels and masks on the bottom. After throwing some bread to a feeding frenzy of Yellowtails, we made ready, cast off, and headed just inside Pelican Island on a straight beam reach across Sir Francis Drake Channel to Road Harbour. Peter’s Island slid by to starboard, and the wind blew in the high teens to low 20’s as we heeled over a bit under full sail. We mad Road Town in one long tack, crossing the channel in not much more than an hour at 6+ knots. The Yacht Shots guy found us again, and we all saluted him from the high side of the boat.
It was busy in the marina, with boats coming and going fast and furiously. Jim backed her into a slip while the hands on the pier handled the lines. The sun was high and Danny and I came back from the dumpster via the grocer, which is air conditioned. Meanwhile Tracy stepped almost onto the boat from the pier, falling to the dive step in as dignified a manner as she could. She came up limping, with a swollen knee and wrist. Then Kathy’s favorite sunglasses did some free-diving of their own, taking up a place on the bottom of the harbour. I suppose if you have to have some bad luck it’s just as well to have it in port.
We packed our bags, admired Jamann (the Jacksons’ boat, moored two slips down), and boarded a taxi for the airport after a heartfelt farewell to Jim and Kathy, who planned the week just for us and hosted us so graciously from the binnacle to the table to the dinghy to the bottom of the clear blue sea.
We had lunch on a patio overlooking Trellis Bay, made our flight connections, drove home from BWI in the middle of the night, and eventually got our land legs back. We like to go places and tell stories about where we’ve been. This time, we’ve really been some place special, and let me tell you what we did ….
Rick Pawelski
June 2008
Sailing Adventures Extraodinaire