Yesterday, the 14th we headed ashore and found that the weather reports were still favorable to depart for St. Martin in the afternoon. So we grabbed some breakfast, cleared customs and headed back to the boat to get ready. We pulled into the Virgin Gorda Yacht Harbor to take on fuel and unfortunately were behind two other boats. Neither of which was especially in a hurry to get off the fuel dock. So we ended up waiting more than an hour to move over to take on fuel. This is a busy harbor with the cruise ship tenders depositing passengers, charter boats coming and going, dingy's coming in and a haulout well immediately behind the fuel dock. Plus there is only room for one boat on the fuel dock at a time. We were all pretty tense by the time we left at 2pm, but headed out for Round rock passage and set full sail.

So far the winds are as predicted, light 7-8 knts from the south, and we have a good sail for a few hours until the winds shift as predicted behind us, to the west. The swells are 5 -7 feet with a few 10 footers thrown in for good measure and they are just a just a few points north of east - nearly on our nose...so keeping the sails full with this light air is impossible. We finally douse the sails just before sunset - which is spectacular showing the thunderheads over the islands. Looks like rain from Virgin Gorda, all the way to Puerto Rico.

Perhaps we will get used to it after a while, but watching and waiting for a weather window is a nerve wracking thing. Will the weather do as predicted, can we expect different conditions, will the boat perform or will we have issues that slow us down, what if the winds shift early? I can't fully explain the anxiety level that this produces for us (ME!), so many unknowns. Oh - and there is no moon tonight - so...it's really dark once the sun goes down. However, other than the limited boat traffic, there isn't anything to see anyway, as we are out of sight of any land by 7pm.

Jim took the first watch while Emily & I tried to get some sleep. When I woke at 9:30 there were a few cruise ships a distance away, one shadowed us for about 70 miles, and a few smaller boats off in the distance. Jim went to lay down and for a while it was just me...and the stars, which were magnificent, oh and one other cruise ship coming at me from starboard. White and green lights only visible, so she should pass to starboard. The operative word here is should....well I watch her like a hawk anyway, until it is clear that she will pass below me, perhaps a mile or two away, and then I watch her because she's pretty, all lit up. You can see them from a great distance and I wonder if anyone on deck looks out at us and wonders if we are crazy to cross the ocean in a boat so small - from their perspective. She was well past me before I thought about what her wake might be like, and if she would rock us...as it turns out no worries, but for the lights I never would have noticed her.

I have to admit, I feel amazingly blessed to sit alone at the helm, on the night watch, with a few boats all around and stars I have never seen before bright and clear above me, confident in the boat and that I know what to do. It is a beautiful experience and I can tell you I was thanking God for the privilege and blessing He richly so bestows on us.

A short while later Emily woke and joined me on watch, we sat and talked and kept a sharp lookout. We can see the light pollution from St. Martin and Anguilla now and our course is the dark patch just in between. There were a few more boats that past us, white and green lights...a westbound sailor who passed south of us, and something else we couldn't identify heading a bit north. Red and white lights only...no problem, she'll pass to port. Then it happened...white lights...a lot of them coming nearer...I see red - AND I see green. Crap, that's not good. Watch for a while..still the same, just a little clearer. Ok don't panic...maybe she'll turn...I head a bit further to the North, give her a few minutes...thru the binocs I now see...Green, White, Red ... getting really clear. OK -this is really NOT GOOD... she's heading straight for us. Time for the VHF (Carol - I was thinking of you!)... trying to keep the panic out of my voice.. I hail "Cruise ship leaving St. Martin, this is the sailing vessel Regenero, Over" initially there is no reply, but after the second hail I hear..."Regenero, this is the Cruise ship Silver Shadow, go ahead please." "Silver Shadow, Regenero here, we appear to be in your path, what do you recommend?" A kind voice over the radio replies..."Regenero, if you will maintain your current course, we will pass off your stern if that's OK?" Relief..they see us, OK? - you bet it's OK... "That will be great..thank you very much" I have the feeling that he laughed at me after the radio contact...but I felt better and boy did she look pretty as she went from Green, White, Red to Green and White only and passed below us to starboard. So here's a shout out to the Silver Shadow radio operator who was my first ship to ship contact, and a successful collision avoidance maneuver (mostly theirs - I just did what they told me).

Jim woke up at 1am after about an hour's nap and we slowed down our speed down, as we are about 2 hours away at this pace, and dawn won't be for another 4.5 hours. Emily and I hit the sack and I slept straight thru til 4. When I woke, Jim was pretty bushed, and we are 3 miles away. Our speed is now just 1 knt - and we are basically sitting still, although the breeze had picked up a bit and turned as predicted to the North at about 11knts. Emily woke, Jim sacked out and we stand by waiting for dawn. Just after 5am, I spot a small boat, dark - only 1 small white light, just off our bow about 500 yds. The sky is just beginning to lighten, or I'd never have seen him. Looks a bit like a fishing boat crossing our bow. When I loose sight of him, I cross over to starboard and find him coming right at us with a spotlight shining on the hull. Uh, oh....what's this? Four men, in an inflatable, wearing life jackets with a big spotlight...OH - French Marine Police. I have to admit it was only the fact that we'd seen the boat before when we were down here...and that they were wearing life jackets that clued me in. Of course they wanted to know who we were, where we were coming from and our boat name, which is small and on the port stern of the boat, so they wouldn't have been able to see it. I hadn't raised the Q flag or the French courtesy flag on the boat yet - and I'm sure the fact that we were just standing off-shore floating for over an hour which triggered them, but they let us pass, and I advised we would be checking in in Marigot this morning. Their English was limited, and my French is still non-existent, but we understood each other just fine, and when I said we would see them later this morning, they laughed and took off. Of course this encounter woke Jim up, and dawn is now nearly upon us. We make our way to the anchorage in Marigot and drop the hook in 3 meters. We are here - we did it! A full nights passage, and even though MOST of this trip was in the dark, I feel so much more confident than our outbound journey from here 3 weeks ago. We are officially cruisers now!