The BVI is the mecca destination for sailors looking for some winter sunshine and easy day sails between numerous small islands, and so as this is high season most anchorages may become a tad crowded. The ariel photo of Trellis bay that we had seen in our Virgin island chart book looked (a) quite large and (b) quite quiet, so it came as an unpleasant surprise to find it was neither of the above.

We had set sail from Coral bay, on St Johns with no weather information as our phone had no signal there, but being old salts we just sort of sniffed the morning air and decided that it was going to be a fine day to make the short 12 mile trip to Trellis bay on Tortola. We raised the anchor about 9am and crept out of Coral bay at about two knots due to some heavy swell sweeping into the bay in exactly the opposite direction to Picaroon. For the first hour we slogged our way towards the open sea and turned east into the Caribbean sea with Tortola visible in the distance.

We were expecting a nice south easterly breeze on our forward quarter which would have given us a sporty sail towards Tortola, but for the best part of the morning it refused to move from an easterly or worse north easterly. We put out a bit of Jib and raised the mizzen but left the main sail flaked on it’s boom whilst Mr Engine, sir purred away below.

We finally managed to cut the engine for the last couple of hours and had a sporty sail around the cape of Beef island and headed to Trellis bay.

At about half past two we finally made the entrance to Trellis bay which looked much smaller than we had imagined and was crammed tight with so many boats that finding a spot to drop the hook was going to be a challenge to say the least. Just weaving our way between boats wasn’t easy, and as most of the boats seemed to be tethered to mooring buoys finding a suitable place to anchor was going to be very tricky. Anchored boats and moored boats swing on the wind very differently and unless we got just the right spot we were going to have to cough up $30 for a mooring and we weren’t about to do that.

Eventually we found a spot where the boats thinned out a bit and headed for that. There was a strip of very turquoise water just up ahead which means that it’s quite shallow. That’s when we came to a full stop because it was too shallow for Picaroon, we had run aground.

We now became the entertainment for the next hour. Within a few minutes another cruiser arrived in his dingy and suggested we put out our kedge anchor. This is a small anchor that lives on the aft end of Picaroon, that we’ve never used, and is supposed to be used to stop the boat swinging about. I unhooked it from its anchor tidy and lowered it to our rescuer. The idea is that he’ll drop it behind Picaroon, then with a rope attached to the chain I’ll try and winch us backwards.

By the time we’ve got this organized another couple of cruisers have arrived to join in the rescue efforts. They have other ideas, and as I heave on the winch handle and nothing happens we’re going to need another plan. One of them suggests we give them one of our main halyards from the main mast.

I remember this method of un-grounding from when we ran aground on Raymondos’ boat in Luperon when we were still learning how to sail. The idea is that the guy in the Rib takes the line from the top of the mast, motors away from the boat which will pull the mast over, tilting Picaroon just enough to free her. So we leave the heaving on the winch and find a suitable halyard.
By now there’s another couple of RIBs have arrived to join in the fun. One of them says he lives here and this happens often, and he’s got another plan, which he says always works, but first we need to haul in the kedge anchor, but it’s well and truly stuck. With the help of one of the rescue RIBs we eventually get it back on board with it’s rusty chain littering the cockpit.

The four rescue RIBs line up against Picaroons bow, like piglets suckling a sow, and in unison crank their outboards whilst Jackie puts Piccars into hard reverse. At last we start to move and within a couple of minutes of coordinated pushing and shoving we’re able to move under our own engine. There’s lots of clapping and congratulations, and we’ve suddenly made an instant bunch of new friends.

Next we look for a new position, away from the shallow bits, still hemmed in on all sides by moored boats. Plop! The anchor drops away in about 8ft of water, we need at least 7ft, so this will have to do. Anchoring is always a fraught and tense experience, but in so close a proximity as this it’s crucial to get it right. It’s a bit of a boisterous breeze and as we wait for the boat to settle we decide that we’re just a bit too close to other boats. We’re going to have to raise the anchor and find another place.

As the chain often jumps off the windlass when the anchor comes off the bottom I’ve found that it’s easier to haul the last 15ft by hand. Our anchor weighs about 60lbs but with a bit of effort it’s not that difficult. But today it seems much heavier. I peer over the bow to catch a glimpse of our anchor which has brought to the surface a stout old mooring line with it. SHIT! No amount of wiggling will shake it loose, and I can’t quite catch it with the boat hook. Enter rescue RIB number six, a cruising lady with a boat hook arrives, says this happens all the time here and manages to slip the offending line off the anchor and back to the deep.

“Let’s just swallow the cost of $30 shall we”, good idea, and anyway it’s my birthday and I need a drink. We head for the nearest buoy, scoop up the line and set it into the fairlead which immediately breaks away from the gunnel rail swinging perilously on the mooring line and about to drop into the sea. I manage to rescue it before it’s lost, and get the mooring line around the Samson post, but as I try to position the mooring line, now coming under tension as Picaroon swings to settle I find my hand is between the mooring line and the gunnel.
Oh great, just what I need for my 68th birthday a crushed hand. Luckily the line eases just enough for me to extract my hand unharmed.

All in all, an eventful birthday, not the one I would have chosen, but that’s boating, as they say, and if you haven’t run aground, then you haven’t been sailing, as Dick once said to us.

Time for a couple of very stiff G&Ts me thinks. Now that’s better, where are we? The BVI, oh well it’s not too bad then.