With the (
short) weather window we had had to enjoy our stay in paradise that is the very lovely Barbuda, we also knew when we woke up this morning, that it was time to
keep moving.
There was a bit of a squall, off on the horizon, as we were prepping to raise anchor,
and while the forecast didn't have (m)any squalls predicted, we figured we'd head out (we could see the bright blue horizon line behind the squall), and besides our C&I paperwork had expired and we were (almost) illegals.
It rained for the first little bit of our trip as we left the shallow waters of the reefy Barbudan coastline,
and then, off on the horizon, just as we had seen, the skies had cleared,
and we had a beautiful drying moment,
with Dave having fun playing with the placement of the sails,
trying to get that extra fraction of a knot out of their, IMHO already excellent, performance. But then sailing is sometimes about playing, isn't it?
However, it wasn't all fun and sailing in beautiful weather, we really were corkscrewing our way along, from side to side, in rather zesty conditions.
Let me state, emphatically and for the record, that we, I, don't like these conditions much. If at all. Actually not, at, all. Period.
And wouldn't you know it, if something can go wrong, it will, and the shit always hits the fan in the blink of an eye type of fast.
The jib was fully out, and we kept scanning the skies as another unforecasted rain system was approaching. We went to furl the jib in, in anticipation of, and the line would not budge, at all. Damn !!
And then Dave tried. It still wouldn't budge. Double Damn.
The sun disappeared. The skies greyed. The waves started to respond in intensity and height to the increasing winds. It started to mist, then sprinkle then full out rain. And we were corkscrewing along, side to side, with the sails full up, and the line stuck.
And Dave's only choice was to head out to the bow, to deal with not only the elements, but to attempt to unsnag the binded furling line. Damn it all !
Going downwind and responding to quartering seas, watching Dave head out to the bow, had me feeling extremely powerless, in a very dangerous situation of broaching, which scared the Beejessus out of me. This was not somewhere I had ever hoped to be.
Thankfully, after what felt like an eternity, in which I made promises to Beings of Higher Power that will take me an eternity to keep, Dave was able to realign the line back into the furling drum, and he white knuckled his way back to the cockpit, where we both breathed, somehow, a collective sigh of relief, and I shed a few girly tears, and I think when his knees stopped shaking, he enveloped me in a much needed hug.
All that dramatic adrenaline hair raising type of time, had us both quiet and reflective for a while as we kept on corkscrewing along in the rain.
With time the skies cleared, the sun came out, and everything was well once again.
By the end of the afternoon, we were approaching the cruising grounds of the very rich and famous, St Barthelemy, or St Barts for short,
and sure enough, as we approached Gustavia, the yachts and mega-yachts,
and cruise ships were everywhere, in crowded abundance,
with the rising cliffs that is St Barts in the background.
Opulent and well-waxed hulls of luxury,
and what is that on the bow?
And then of course, there's the
Venus, the late Steve Jobs vision of a boat,
with its USB port as an aft entrance,
and lavish and luxurious ultra-mega-yachts so large that I could only get a minuscule portion of it to fit my camera lens.
We googled (by that I mean we used our binoculars) the boats in the Gustavia anchorage and noticed they were a little rock and rolly, so we opted to kept on going a little farther up the coast.
We'd planned on the charts to use Anse de Colombier, a secluded bay around the bend, as an option as it would offer much more calm protection and within half an hour or so, we had entered the bay, where friends
Spirit of Argo,
Wandering Star, and
Imagine of Falmouth were already there, and where were met by Jeff and Izzy, who had beat us in, were already swimming and snorkelling,
enjoying the clear and invitingly refreshing waters, and helping us reach the mooring ball lines on.
And so, thanking (once again) the beings that guide us, we had arrived safe and sound, a full 10 hours later, 68.9 nm later, just in time for sunset, sundowners and an anchorage filled with friends. Life (thank you) is Good.