Woke up in the wee morning pitch-black hours in a total WTF moment. The wall clock fuzzily pointed to 2:30 and the pitch black of night confirmed it all. My ears registered Dave's gentle plod-plodding on the wooden floors of Banyan as he was getting himself ready for a "call-to-stations". As my brain cleared the sleepies away, I remembered that I too needed to get myself up and ready.

The plan was to leave at oh-three-hundred and use the rather calm, with hopefully enough wind to allow us to sail, conditions to sail ourselves to Antigua.

WindGuru was showing that there was RED winds coming by weeks' end, seas were going to be built up, and we wouldn't have a hope in you know what of getting ourselves from here to there until after that system passed. Since we have family incoming on April 03, it was a now-or possibly not get there in time-decision.

The earthy aroma of coffee wafted through the cabin as I offered up a hot cup to the Capt'N, while he busied himself with prepping the main, obtaining the chart-plotter fix, and I double checked life below to make sure we were secure for sea. I lifted out the life-jackets and I think we're drowsily ready to go.

Dropped the mooring ball lines is always easier than weighing anchor in the dark of night, with boats around you, and we waved goodbye to the fun that was St Barths, the comfortable home for a day that was Anse Colombier, and a special wave to newfound friends on Peregrine, as we quietly motored our way out.

What follows is an hour by hour time lapse of our passage.

Not much happening at 03:30. A sliver of a moon out there. A black sky littered with twinkling stars. And the engine purring away as we glided by the rocks and yellow buoys on the Northern End of the St Barths.



More of the same at 04:30. By now the main was up, gently helping us along. Seas were calm (predicted at about 1 meter). The moon was still out, the stars still gently twinkling.



I think I dozed off in the cockpit for the 05:30 photo. Oops, so much for good intentions.

At 06:30 the sun was starting to rise. Coffee time, a second one for the Capt'N, lucky guy !! There's always intense fascination in watching the colours of sky as the sun rises or sets. The palette of colours that Mother Nature puts on are simply astounding, and with the two years we have lived this cruising lifestyle, we never get tired of watching it all unfold, tirelessly, and each and every one as spectacular as the last.



By 07:30 the skies were starting to become a dazzling blue, the seas still gentle, as predicted, and we continued to motor-saili along, generating ourselves some water.



We played some (gasp!!) Candy Crush, both of us frustratingly stuck on our respective levels for what's been weeks on end. We read. We chatted. We dozed.

By 08:30, the jib had come out, but the engine remained on, there just wasn't enough wind to propel us along at the speed we needed in order to get there in daylight hours.

We thought about how some true-blue sailors would just sail whatever the conditions were, arriving at whatever time they got there. We knew that we could too, if we really wanted, and if that were to be the case, and anchoring in the dark were to have to happen, we would prefer to anchor in the openness and deep waters of Hermitage Bay than the shallow, and possibly crowded, Jolly Harbour.

We also discussed how much we like the radar for that purpose. In the mooring ball field that was Anse Colombier, there were some boats anchored with no anchor lights on. There were some moored boats with anchor lights on, and some with none. Technically in a designated mooring ball area, the anchor lights do not need to be on.

In our recent experiences of arriving/leaving in the dark, we have found it very helpful, all legalities aside, when all boats have an anchor light on. Just saying.



At 09:30 we were enjoying a delicious breakfast of sausage egg burritos, easy to cook up in these calm type of conditions. I'm grateful that for the most part, when the conditions are right, I can easily remain below and chef up some treats if and when the inclination calls to us.



Not much going on at 10:30, except for the Capt'N telling me a story about how, when he was in the Navy, the call to lunch would be at 11:15, on the nose. (You know those military types right?)

I think he was trying to tell me something, don't you ??



Just before lunch the winds cooperated, and the engines went off. Ahh the sweet sounds of silence without engine fumes in the cockpit and by 11:30 we were happily finishing our our chicken salad sandwiches (and to add to the junk food fix, some chips!!)



Sometime between this shot taken at 12:30



and this one at 13:30,



there was all sorts of excitement on Banyan.

Dave pointed and whooped a thrill of joy at having seen the beautiful hump of a whale. Moments that make time stand still as you see the glorious massive grey body arcing out of the water, and splashing back into it in a movement that is so gracefully perfected, you cannot help but smile in utter amazement.

We always boogle* the horizon for surrounding boat traffic, just in case someone is around that is not flashing up on our AIS. However, today, there weren't many fellow travellers with us.

Not to break with tradition, the Capt'N was the first to yell "Land-Ho".

Sure enough, by 14:30 Antigua was clearly visible on the horizon.



Somehow, when you sight the mass of land that is your intended destination, it feels like FOREVER before you really get there. In our case, the charts were estimating another 3 hours, or so. Lordy !!

There was some cloudy rain formations hanging over Antigua and we fervently hoped the rain would wait until after we got there, in the hopes of washing the very salty boat that we were.

At 15:00, the jib was rolled in as the winds had shifted and it was doing nothing to help us along and somewhere in there the engines came back to life. We had now been on the water for going on 12 hours!



The seas were a tad confused, the chop built up due to the currents, and the rain system that had just passed, and we had a bit of a bumpy ride. Another photo (just cause we were getting slightly excited), at 15:30.



At 16:00-ish, we were almost there, only 5 more nautical miles to go. In boat terms, that's another hour. Were we ever going to get there??



Customs closes at 16:00 so we knew we would not get there in time to check in. We found ourselves with two options - Hermitage Bay or Jolly Harbour. As we boogled* Hermitage Bay, we noticed a few boats already there, was there going to be room for us? We could always go check and if there wasn't just keep on going, If we went to Jolly, we'd have some extra sleep-in time in the morning before the 08:00 opening of the Customs Office. And after 14 hours on the go, even another half hour to go scope the place out seemed like too much, so Jolly Harbour it was.

Also, We'd heard that customs in Antigua was getting very serious about the clearance procedures. Some people have been enjoying shore time before clearing in (which is a huge no-no in any country) and as a result getting stuck with huge fines.

And so, finally, after 14 seemingly long hours, and at 17:00, Banyan dropped the hook in Jolly Harbour, suffering from a serious case of the salties,



and without a rain cloud to be seen on the horizon.

We tiredly began the task of opening the hatches to allow the fresh breeze through, putting our lines away, bringing up the Q flag, and finally opening that very cold arrival beer that we used to raise a toast to another successful passage.

*boogled* : Binocular Ogling