This is very much after the fact but I have to be in the right frame of mind to sit down and post these. Before it slips away though, here's the story.
Deb and I had been trying to think of what to do for our 30th Anniversary. We thought of a big party, a small party, a cruise of some sort, but really couldn't decide on anything (surprise!).
I can't really remember now but I think it was a Moorings ad on Facebook that prompted me to consider a bareboat charter. It would be somewhat like a cruise in the tropics but without three thousand other people and several strains of Novo Virus on the boat with you - so there was that going for it.
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| St. Martin in relation to the tip of Florida. |
We talked about it a bit and it was starting to sound good but we got hung up on the fact that we'd been to the BVI twice and weren't sure we wanted to hit the same place. We looked at the other Moorings locations in the Caribbean and it seemed like St. Martin might be a good place to try. I went on the Moorings site and did a search for a 6 day trip starting in mid July. That's past the start of hurricane season of course but not too far in so I didn't worry (too much). When the search results came back, it was interesting to see that the smallest boat they rented was 43 ft long - "due to the amount of open ocean sailing" (Gulp).
With our typical "What could possibly go wrong" shrug, I booked it. Yeah!
The 20 days went by fast and we were soon on our way. We got up early and flew from Boston to JFK and then straight to SXM on Jet Blue with no issues. The flight back was slightly different but I'll get to that later...
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| The docks at the Moorings base in Oyster Pond. |
At the airport, we found our waiting taxi and enjoyed the trip across the island to Oyster Pond - the Moorings base on St. Martin. We had chosen an Evening Start option which means we stay on board the night before and the actual charter starts the next day. The advantage is that you can get your chart and boat briefing done that first night and be able to leave the first thing in the morning instead of having to do all that stuff in the morning and start in the afternoon. The downside is that you are spending the night onboard, at the dock. I had considered that option on the last charter from Tortola but was glad I didn't do it. The docks there were smelly with diesel fuel and there was no breeze and I remembered being so glad we didn't have to sleep on the boat in those conditions. That was going to sway my decision at Oyster Pond also until the rep on the phone when I was booking said that there was A/C on the boat (when on shore power) so it really wouldn't be an issue. Done.
We got to the base at about 2:00 pm and had a nice lunch at Captain Oliver's while we waited for the briefings at about 3:30.
The Chart Briefing was an eye-opener.
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| Anguilla (top), St. Martin (middle), St. Barts (bottom). |
We were the only people in the room besides the lady giving the presentation. She fired up a PowerPoint and proceeded to blow through a huge number of very complex and information-packed slides. It was like drinking from the proverbial fire hose. The three main islands - St. Martin, Anguilla, and St. Barts - are all different countries (although I'm still confused about whether St. Martin (French side) is the same country as St. Barts) and there are definite steps required in order to clear in and out of each one as you sail around. The proper way to do things depended on your route which depended on the weather and it all was very difficult to process. The briefing lady was really no help and actually downright surly (quelle surprise !). At one point I asked her to go back to one of the bullets on the slide and said "I'm not quite sure what you mean there." She said, "I just read that to you." We went back and forth a few times and I eventually said, "Never mind, I've purchased the insurance." She didn't get the joke.
At the end of the briefing she asked if we had any questions and Deb and I just shook our heads slowly with our mouths open. As we walked back to the boat, we didn't say a thing. I was trying to be stoic because I knew if I let my knees start quivering, Deb would lose the composure she was desperately trying to maintain and it would all go south in a big hurry.
As we sat in the boat waiting for her to come do the boat briefing, we finally both blurted out "Holy Frack!!" We didn't have much time to go critical because Briefing Lady knocked on the companionway. She came in and started going over things. I screwed up because I said I'd charted with the Moorings before. She took this to mean that she could explain the boat systems even faster than normal I guess.
See all those switches that manage all the electrical systems on the boat? Most of them are named somewhat similarly to the function they control. Mostly. The ones in French do this, and that, and I'm not sure what this one does.
Mon Dieu.
On this boat, sometimes the anchor windless trips the circuit breaker and you have to come down here and lift up the panel under the aft cabin mattress and flip this little switch like this. No, not that one, this one here that's tucked down there. You might need a flashlight to find it.
I'm envisioning maneuvering through a crowded anchorage, finding a spot, Deb's up on the bow with the anchor remote, ready to drop the hook and the breaker trips requiring a mad dash below, digging under the berth to find the reset. WTF?!?
When she went through the process of lighting the stove, both Deb and I figured we would just drink cold coffee for the duration of the trip.
The crowning blow though came topside. We went back to the stern pulpit - and the dinghy outboard mounted on a bracket. She informed us that we needed to remove the motor from the dinghy and remount it on this bracket whenever we were under sail.
Come again?
Yes, every time I wanted to use the dinghy, I need to unclamp the motor from this bracket, lift it up off the bracket and carry it down three steps to the swim platform, wrestle it into the pitching dinghy, and slip it over the transom and screw it down.
Then reverse the procedure when I was done using it.
You're joking right?
No.
Doesn't the risk of me dropping the motor into the water during that whole procedure, repeated how many times during the trip?, outweigh the risk of what - the motor ripping off the back of the dink while being towed?
It's required. Some people detach the main halyard and hook it to the motor to help lift it off the bracket and down to the dinghy.
[Blank stare at her.]
The sheer stupidity of that suggestion just boiled inside me. The top of the main, even when dropped and in the lazy jacks, is still about 9 feet off the deck and the shackle connecting the halyard to it probably hasn't been unscrewed in two years. Even if I could get it off and bring it aft, the cockpit is covered by a Bimini so the halyard isn't going to have a path to the motor. And even if I could hook it up, and somehow have Deb run the winch to lift it, I'd then have a motor swinging on a halyard, to guide down to the dink - which it wouldn't reach because there's just enough tail on the halyard to get the main down, not drop the end down to sea level 20 feet away from the base.
Yeah, I'm sure they use this method.
This was to be really the only negative of the trip. Not only doing this, but even the anticipation of having to do this on/off dance with the motor, had a material affect on the enjoyment of the trip.
She finally wrapped up and got off the boat leaving Deb and me there to ponder whether we should even attempt this. I could see my back going out on the first transfer and then being unable to move for 4 days as we sat at anchor somewhere with the outboard at the bottom of the bay.
Well, there was nothing for it but to press on so we turned in and waited for a new day and a new perspective.
The next morning, we found that a motor davit had not been magically welded to the pulpit so we were no better there but we did have a fresher perspective after talking to a new lady at the Moorings base. We had gone to the office to try and get a better understanding of where we had to clear in and out to be able to go to Anguilla and then St. Barts because we were so totally confused by the gyrations that the first lady had laid out.
This gal basically brushed off all that crap and said we didn't have to worry about all that. We could clear out of St. Martin right here - pre-dating it for tomorrow when we would actually leave for Anguilla - and then it was a simple process for an in/out at Anguilla. Then, going into St. Barts, nobody cares. Done.
Our spirits lifted on the prospect that we would not be subject to a firing squad for not following some byzantine customs process. Yay!
Our first incident happened when, getting ready to leave, I disconnected the shore power lines and the heavy end swung back and whacked Deb in the shin. The black and blue bruise finally subsided on the last day of the trip I think. Luckily, it was the only injury that we had the entire trip.
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| Oyster Pond satellite view. You can see the reefs that make the entrance a bit tricky. |
To get out of Oyster Pond requires a pilot. It's a relatively tricky entrance because it's East facing (incoming swells) and there is a major reef that juts across it and you have to follow several markers in a twisting path to get through. I had read about this in the Cruising Guide previously. It said, "Don't even attempt the entrance to Oyster Pond if the wind is up."
Guess what the wind was doing.
Yeah, about 21 knots right on the nose to get out. Perfect.
We've got a charter to start though right?
The pilot got on board and just told us to sit tight while he took us out of the slip and toward the channel. There is a little turning basin just before you turn the corner to the opening and here is where we put the main up and sheeted it in tight - so in case you lose power going out, you might have a chance of sailing her either through or back in.
Merde.
We got the main up and he got into a little Boston Whaler and told us to follow him.
When we turned the corner, he disappeared into the trough of a 10 foot wave.
No turning back now I guess so I goosed the engine against the howling wind and waves and followed him into the breech.
We basically had a roller coaster ride out the cut, being careful to hug the three red stakes arcing through the break in the reef and out to the ocean. About three quarters of the way out, he'd had about as much pounding as he could take and basically pointed the rest of the way to the outer marker ball and high-tailed it back to the lagoon.
We were on our own.
Dang, this is a big boat and these are some big seas.
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| The route from Oyster Pond to Tintamarre, and then around the top to Grand Case. |
Our plan was to head north along the eastern side of St. Martin and stop for lunch at Tintamarre. This is a little island just off the coast and opposite Orient Bay. There's nothing there but there are mooring balls in a little bay so we wouldn't have to anchor. It would be about half way to our destination for the night of Grande Case which was around the top of St. Martin on the northwest side.
We headed north with two reefs in the main and about half the jib unfurled - doing about 7 knots. It was pretty much a sleigh ride. Deb was feeling a little queasy, not from this part but from the initial power out through the cut. In addition to the Bimini over the cockpit, we also had a Dodger forward of the companion way. The furling line, main halyard, and main sheets all let to winches on the cabin top in the lee of this Dodger. Despite the wind, right behind the Dodger, it was still air. This, and the huge swells meant that a minute or two here tailing winches could put you in a bad state. I felt it too when I went up to trim the main as we raced along on a beam reach, Deb bravely keeping us on course to Tintamarre.
We got to the island in no time and got our sails down/furled in the calmer waters in the lee of the island. We motored in slowly as I explained the process of picking up a mooring ball to Deb. The look on her face as I explained the process betrayed her nodding that she understood and was fully ready to tackle the job.
Fortunately, there were only a couple of boats in the bay and we had our pick of balls to try and grab.
Good thing...
I picked one out and approached it slowly. Of course, as I get closer, it disappears from my view and I can't really tell very well which side it's on and how fast we are approaching and have to rely on Deb indicating where it's at.
We missed it and had to come around again.
This time, Deb snagged the loop and started pulling it up to try and get it on the cleat. Of course, we start to drift away before she gets it off the boat hook. I guess I kind of forgot to tell her that she's not going to be able to hang on to line with the hook once we start to get blown back. Before she gets pulled over the side, she tries to shake the line off the hook but the hook gets pulled out of her hands and goes overboard. Whoops.
Luckily it floats but we now have to figure out how to get it before it is blown out to sea - we have a few more moorings to pick up this week...
I have Deb get on the swim platform as we motor around to try and grab it. We try a couple of passes but she can't reach it as we pass by. I finally tell her to get in the dink which makes it easier for her to reach the water and I tow her around like she's on a tube behind a runabout, trying to swing her over to the pole as we go by. After a few passes, she grabs it and climbs back on board. Have I mentioned she is a trooper?
Next try on the ball, she snags it and gets it on the cleat with one motion and we are hooked! High Fives and a Hoot!
We collapse into the cockpit and decompress from our trip and trial.
After a bit of recovery, we contemplate checking out the island but here's the first impact of the whole dinghy motor thing. To go ashore, we'd have to unmount the motor from the bracket and mount it on the dink and then reverse the process to complete our sail to Grande Case where we'll have to do the same thing to go ashore for dinner. Normally, it would be easy to just jump in the dink and head ashore but with all this, we just didn't have the desire to deal with it. Too bad because the beach looked very nice.
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| Grande Case. |
Instead we made lunch and just chilled. We dropped the ball a bit later and headed on a fast reach/run around the top of the island to Grande Case. Grande Case is supposedly the culinary capital of the island so we were looking forward to dinner there. There are no mooring balls in the harbor so we dropped the anchor and I worried that it would hold in the howling wind. In hindsight, I probably didn't have enough chain out because I think we dragged a bit by morning.
We dinghy'd ashore and walked the quaint, narrow streets of Grand Case. It was really fun to check out the shops and sights but deciding on a restaurant was difficult. We finally picked one and were seated at a dark and intimate table looking right over the beach and water - the warm breezes making a magical setting.
The food was simply incredible. After we ordered, they would keep bringing out little "treats" (as Deb called them) as we sat, talked, and enjoyed the view. I don't really know what they were but each one was better than the last. The main course was even better. I wish I remembered all the details better but we were just blown away by the whole experience.
We headed back to the boat after a long day. Unfortunately we didn't get much sleep since the wind was whipping us back and forth on the anchor and I was in constant fear of dragging and winding up on the rocks. We made it through, but looking onshore in the morning and trying to tell if we were in the same spot as we started, I had to conclude that we were not. The fact that I had to guess means that it wasn't bad but I still vowed to be more careful about getting enough chain down next time.
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| From Grande Case to Road Bay on Anguilla. |
The plan for today was to head across to Anguilla, which is a British island about 10 miles north of St. Martin. Specifically, we were headed to Road Bay which is along the north coast of the island. We were going to sail around the west end and then along the north coast to the bay. It was going to be another sleigh ride but the winds were coming down slightly. The weather forecast was for continually diminishing winds - back down to the "normal" 10 to 15 - for the rest of the week.
In order to get started however, we were going to have to clear the main halyard which had become thoroughly snagged on a ring on the mast about 20 feet above the deck. I gave Deb the helm and told her to just keep it pointed into the wind while I climbed up on some foot pegs on the mast to try and get a better reach on the halyard. I tried for 10 minutes to get it unstuck and it would not budge. I was starting to think that I was going to have to motor back to the base and have someone fix this. I finally had a brilliant idea to use another halyard to flick the stuck halyard around the ring to freedom. It worked and our vacation was saved. Hurrah!
We made it across to the west end of the island in a couple of hours but when we turned east to go upwind along the north coast, well yeah, the wind was still pretty stiff. We didn't fancy the idea of tacking this boat repeatedly in that heavy air so we just dropped the sails and motored the rest of the way.
So, our target was Road Bay and you can't miss it...
The charts, with their labels, and different colored water, and aerial view, make it seem like coastal navigation couldn't be easier. Unfortunately, there are no signs, the water isn't actually colored like it is in the chart, and looking directly at the shore at sea level, you can't see the shape of it to pick out the coves and curves that they show from above. So, determining if the bay you are looking at is the Road Bay that you are looking for or the Mead Bay that is one bay before you get to Road Bay, isn't as simple as it could be. I could go into a long explanation of how all this happened but the end result is that I put is into Mead Bay instead of Road Bay.
It didn't really feel right to begin with. For one thing, the Cruising Guide said that in Road Bay, you needed to keep clear of the ship dock when anchoring. Clearly, there was no ship dock in the bay we were in. In fact, there was pretty much nothing here as opposed to the comparative civilization that was expected at Road Bay. Still, we put the motor on the dink and went ashore looking for the Customs office where we needed to clear in.
Nothin.
We finally found the back of a hotel and the laundry room full of housekeepers. I asked where the Customs office was and they said I had to drive to the center of the island and by the way, they weren't open today anyway.
So, is this Road Bay or Mead Bay?
This is Mead Bay.
Oops.
We headed back to the boat and pulled up the anchor - leaving the motor on the dink, damn it. Deb and I decided this would be hereon known as "The Mead Bay Incident" and wouldn't be talked about publicly again, although Deb threatened to use it for leverage if it was ever required.
When we got to Road Bay, it really became laughable how we had ever though Mead Bay could have been it. The ship dock? Yeah, right there where several large ships are docked. Not one of my finer navigational moments but luckily, no one will ever know about it. Wait, I just... Oh crap.
The anchorage was not jammed but it was tighter than we'd dealt with until then and there were no balls to pick up so we had to anchor and make sure we were not going to swing into anyone else. After we got settled, we dinghy'd ashore and I went in to clear customs. I had forgotten the 4 copies of the crew list that they had made for me at the Moorings base so I had to fill out the 4 copies by hand as Deb waited in the sun at the dock with the dinghy. Back to the boat to lower the "quarantine" flag and raise the courtesy flag and then back to the beach and live music, rum punch, and dancing at a beach bar/shack. We had a blast!
For dinner we found a restaurant I'd read about in the Cruising Guide - The Pumphouse - and had another excellent meal. Deb retroactively judged the Pina Coladas there to be the best of the trip after sampling the attempts of every bartender we encountered for the next 5 days.
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| Road Bay to Orient Bay on St. Martin. |
The plan for the next day was to continue east along the north coast of Anguilla, rounding the end and then heading back down to St. Martin and overnighting in Orient Bay. The wind was still relatively stiff and it was a long way to the east end it so we again motored instead of sailed. I used the auto pilot and just basically set a course that would keep us off the few reefs that we had to avoid until we got to the end.
The end was actually a cut between the main island and a smaller island. I think you could throw a rock from one to the other but the Cruising Guide said you could go between so we put the sails up, held our breath, and turned south.
It was a fast reach down to St. Martin and the entrance to Orient Bay. The Cruising Guide said that the entrance to Orient Bay came in second only to the aforementioned to Oyster Pond in terms of potential for error with catastrophic results and recounted how many a charter boat had found itself wrecked on the various reefs that flank the opening. I’m sure part of the reason for the mishaps is because it looks so easy and wide open.
Hoping to avoid an “Orient Bay Incident”, we followed the guide instructions to the letter and lined up with the edge of Tintamarre and the radio antennas on the peaks above the bay, and came in on the glide path. The GPS chart plotter happened to have a course already laid in so we double checked our position on that as well.
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| Orient Bay. Stars show our two anchoring locations. Yellow shows the reefs/shallows going in/out |
During the briefing misery with French Lady, who had also mentioned that the entrance to Orient Bay was dangerous, I had said that they should load the course into the chart plotter to make it easier for people to get in safely. She poo-poo’d the idea saying that the GPS was only accurate to 250 meters and that would not be sufficient to get you in. This seemed odd to me at the time since my cheap Garmin was accurate to 19 feet and I couldn’t believe that a marine chart plotter would be that much worse but I didn’t press it. Of course, here we were riding the line on the plotter straight into the bay. FU French Lady.
Anyway, we came in and headed along the beach and anchored in very shallow water behind Green Cay. As we were motoring slowly in, Deb was on the bow ready to drop the hook while I was trying to run the throttle and watch the depth gauge at the same time. Seems like that wouldn’t be so hard until you find out that on this boat - which is so wide it has twin wheels - the throttle is on one wheel and the depth gauge is on the other! In what universe does that make sense?
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| Anchored in Orient Bay. The view is of Club Orient. |
So I’m running back and forth from wheel to wheel watching the depth go to 5 feet (beneath the 7 foot keel), to 4 feet, to 3 feet but I’m still not very close in. Hmm, should I keep going and get past this shallow spot? Yeah, it’s back to 4 feet see?
Whoops - 2 feet, 1.5 feet. Yikes! Drop the hook Deb!
We never touched and I even dove down to check the anchor and we had plenty of water. I think they calibrate the depth gauge to give the boat a little extra cushion for when people like me push it a little bit.
Orient Bay is the happening place on St. Martin. There are all kinds of beach bars and stores, parasailing, wave runner rentals, dive shacks, you name it. Oh, and there’s one more thing - Club Orient and its clothing optional beach on the southern end. Where is this Green Cay you are anchored behind in relation to the naked beach you ask? Well lookie there, it’s right across from it! Okay, so we weren’t that close but you could definitely tell there were people on that beach who were working on their all-over tans.
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| Orient Bay. Pedros, and the rocks on the left, separate Club Orient (left of the rocks) from the rest of the beach. |
The Cruising Guide said that the place to land the dinghy was right by Pedros restaurant that happens to separate the Club Orient nude beach from the rest of Orient Beach. The only separation in this case being the sign that says “Nude Beach - no photography”.
Orient Bay is basically open to the east and there is nothing to stop the swells coming into the beach. Makes for great water sports but it also means that there are no docks available and you have to just surf the dinghy onto the beach to get ashore. We mounted the motor and headed in.
It was a fairly easy ride onto the beach and we hopped out and dragged the boat up the sand and buried the anchor in the sand to make sure it didn’t leave us.
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| A wider shot of Orient Beach. |
Did I mention that this landing place was right by the border between the nudie beach and the regular beach? Turns out that this is also the place where the taxis drop off the cruise ship passengers who take the excursion to the “nude beach”. It also turns out that some of the nudies like to shock the cruise shippers with blatant, uninhibited nudity and setup their chairs right on the border. Nothing like hanging loose on St. Martin!
We had a chuckle and a photo by the Nude Beach sign and headed the other way to the shops and bars in search of additional sun screen and pina coladas. A guy who makes beach wraps snagged Deb and demonstrated all the ways his wraps could be tied around her. A beach wrap purchase later we found lunch and coladas at one of the places along the sand.
After lunch and a bit more strolling, we headed back to the dinghy to get back to the boat. Now came the challenge; launching the dinghy in the surf and getting the motor down and started before the waves put us back on land.
We waited for a lull in the surf, pushed out, started up, and scooted away from the beach pretty as you please.
This luck would not be blessing us in subsequent attempts…
We relaxed a bit on the boat and then decided to come back ashore for dinner - again landing the dink on the beach with no incident. As we walked along the beach though, all the places that had been open in the afternoon were closed up. It was looking like there was no place to eat dinner here - how could that be?
We finally found a bar that was open and they directed us to a restaurant oasis a few steps inland from the beach and we had an excellent meal at an Italian restaurant. Again, Deb loved all the little extras that they brought - along with the fabulous main courses.
By the time we were done, it was dark.
And there were no lights on the beach.
And the surf was up.
We launched the dinghy as before but this time we weren’t so lucky with the waves. We got turned sideways and a wave crashed over the side and swamped us and then threw us on the beach again. Crap!
We bailed out with our hands and assessed the situation. Well, what could we do but try again?
Again into the surf but this time we got out and got the motor going and off we went. Phew!
This relative success was not to be repeated…
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| Orient Bay to Anse de Columbier on St. Barts. Same course down and back roughly. |
Next morning, we pulled up the anchor and set out for St. Barts - basically a single, 20 mile port tack down to the top of the island and the bay of Anse de Columbier. The winds had calmed a bit so this was a pretty easy ride all the way down.
Anse de Columbier has nothing on shore but there are mooring balls for people who have paid for the use of the marine park (like us). We grabbed a ball like a couple of pros and settled in. We got on our flippers and swam in to the beach and walked around and then swam - actually just let the wind blow us - back to the boat.
One of the great things about successfully picking up your mooring is that you can then sit in the cockpit with your beverage of choice and watch other crews try to pick up theirs.
That’s what we did.
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| Our anchoring spot at Anse de Columbier. |
Exhibit A was a large cat with a contingent of loud, gesticulating Greeks(?) pulling in. This cat had quite a bit of freeboard so reaching the mooring loop with a standard issue boat hook was not going to cut it. Nope, this was going to require lying down on the deck and reaching for it. Nope, missed it, better have the fat guy lay on the legs of the reaching guy while the rest of the crew hollers instructions. That worked and nobody actually fell in!
All charter boats need to run the engine - which powers the generator to charge the batteries, cools the icebox, and makes hot water for showers - for about an hour twice a day. We noticed on this cat however, that they never seemed to turn off their generator as evidenced by the cooling water being spit out the side continually. It wasn't bothersome to us, just odd. Then we noticed that they didn't have any hatches open to catch the cooling breeze. Wait a minute... Air conditioning?!?! Yeah, we had it at the dock on shore power but it seems like cheating to use it out here. Whatevs.
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| Anse de Columbier. |
Exhibit B was another cat that did fine but still spent about 20 minutes trying to decide the best way to tie off to the line. Hardly seemed worth all the fuss since they left a couple hours later.
The next day we grabbed our mask, fins, and snorkels and explored a couple of reefs in the bay. We saw all manner of fish plus a couple of turtles as well. Very cool. We had planned to go down to Gustavia - the main port on St. Barts but we enjoyed the quiet serenity of this place so much that we decided to stay another night here. We took this opportunity to try and cook the frozen pizza that had been sitting in the ice box since we started. We figured there was no way it was going to work out since we had no idea how to set a specific temperature on the oven but we winged it and it came out great. Pizza in the cockpit, on a boat, in the middle of nowhere, is surprisingly wonderful!
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| Selfie at Anse de Columbier. |
The next day we headed back up to Orient Bay for our last night on board. Orient is a good last night because it’s a quick shot down to Oyster Pond so you can get the boat checked in and make your flight home.
By this time, the wind had really calmed down and it was a really relaxing broad reach northwest to St. Martin. I basically set the auto-pilot and kicked back and let the boat take us up to Tintamarre so we could line up for the entrance to Orient Bay.
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| At anchor near Ile Pinel in Orient Bay. |
This time, we grabbed a ball just off of the other little island inside the bay - Ile Pinel. There are a couple of beach bars here but they too, roll up around 4:00 so there was nowhere to get dinner. We had enjoyed our dinner the last time so we wanted to try another place in that area but we were even farther from Orient Beach this time. We decided to take the dink for a test run across the bay to see how rough it would be. We foolishly said, “Should be doable.”
Cue the foreboding music.
We dressed for dinner (well, I put on fresh shorts but Deb put on a sundress) and headed out in the dink for the beach. Again, the landing was fine and we dragged the the boat up the sand and picked out a restaurant - a french one this time and again, fabulous.
We lingered over drinks and finally decided to head back. We got to the beach and it was dark.
Really dark. No moon, no stars, no lights dark.
Could not see the water dark.
Sh!t.
I could barely make out what I thought was our masthead light looking about 6 miles away. This was not good and it got worse.
Nothing to do but try it.
We launched the dink and jumped in. The motor wouldn’t start.
The waves picked us up and threw us onto the beach and out of the boat.
Dear God, what have we done.
We got the boat situated and gave another try. Push out. Jump in. Motor won’t start. We get turned sideways again and a wave crashes over the side and fills us with water again and dumps us on the beach.
This is not good. Double-plus not good in fact.
The motor thing is a real problem. If I can’t get this started we are sleeping on the beach and it’s not safe to sleep on the beach.
With the force of the waves as they are, I only have enough time, once we get the boat into deep enough water and I get the motor kicked down, for one or two pulls. If it doesn’t catch after that, we are back on the beach and possibly full of water. I devise a plan and break it to Deb slowly.
Deb is going to have to tow us out into deeper water and hold us bow to wave so that I can have more pulls at the starter and give us a chance to get going.
For some reason, she agrees to this.
We push out and Deb grabs the bowline and pulls us out while I jump in and drop the motor. I’m pulling frantically while Deb is up to her neck in water with waves crashing over her head, hanging on to the boat as it rears up and crashes down almost on top of her.
The motor is looking like it’s just not going to fire and I’m thinking we are toast. Deb is practically drowning and I give it one more pull and it coughs. One more pull and it fires up. Thank God! I put it in gear and yell for Deb to try and get on board. She jumps up and I grab her arm and pull her into the bottom of the boat, turn and gun the throttle and we rocket off the beach into the inky night.
I think the nudies down at the other end of the beach heard us hoot and holler!
We still have the ordeal of making it across the bay and dodging swimming rafts and bouys and rocks that we can’t see in the dark. I’m simply steering towards what I hope is our masthead light in the distance. We finally make it and climb aboard spent.
Wow, that was incredibly dumb.
There’s a fun saying that goes, “If no one from the future comes back to stop you, it can’t be that bad of an idea right?”
That is not necessarily true.
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| Quick reach from Orient back to Oyster Pond. |
Anyway, we lived to tell about it so the next day, we got up early and headed out to Oyster Pond. The procedure is to call the base when you are about 30 minutes from the entrance. I called when I made a wild guess that we were 30 minutes out. They said call back when you are there. Okay.
We got to the big marker at the entrance and I gave a call. They asked me if I wanted a pilot to come out and guide me in but I could see the sticks and the way in so I said no and took her in. The pilot was waiting for us in the turning lagoon and jumped on board to take her to her slip. I gladly turned over the wheel which allowed me to exhale for the first time in a week I think.
The checkout process was pretty simple - Was everything okay? Yup. Okay, see-ya.
The trip back to Boston was uneventful - except for the gang of drunken Puerto Ricans who disrupted the flight and basically stormed the front galley of the plane causing the frightened flight attendants to threaten to land the plane under military escort at the nearest airport.
We made it to Boston and they led the drunkards off to the applause of the rest of the passengers.
It's hard to really convey how special this trip was. There were the places we went and the adventures getting there and back that I have tried to describe but the part that's difficult to get across is the feeling of just being there. Sitting in the cockpit having a beer after getting the anchor down isn't that exciting to write about but it was absolutely fantastic to do.
And there were hundreds of those little "moments" that simply can't be described on the "paper" of this blog.
The title "All the Way to the End of the World" comes from a line in a song that I set this little video to that gives a taste of the trip.
All the Way to the End of the World from Tom Hudgins on Vimeo.
This trip was the time of our lives and we can’t wait to do it again next year.
1 comment:
WOW what an awesome aventure. I enjoyed reading your post and enjoyed your video....great song choice. Here's to the next 30 years.
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