Cruising the Leewards
01 March 2000 | Marigot Bay, St. Martin
Hello everyone! We've been enjoying Caribbean cruising at its best. Since leaving the Saintes, we've continued to wander around the Leeward Islands, spending time in Guadeloupe, Antigua, St. Barths and now we're back at St. Martin. Our sailmaker from Quantum Sails, Bill O'Malley, is here for the Heineken week regatta, one of the largest and most presitigous of the Caribbean winter season. He is tactician aboard the Santa Cruz 70-something, *Donnybrook*, and offered to have a look at our sails while he was in the neighborhood. We've now put 7,000 miles on the Spectra main and jib, and were glad of the opportunity to have a professional check how they are holding up in preparation for the Atlantic crossing in a few months. That motivated us to get here for the regatta, and we're looking forward to watching some of the racing. I'm most interested in seeing the Tall Ships - they race right around the island on Sunday after a parade in the morning.
Our trip from Antigua to St. Barths on Saturday was the best sailing we've had since arriving here in November. We've spent all our time in the Caribbean this year in big seas and 20-30 knot winds, all too often going to windward. But we left Falmouth Harbour, Antigua at about 4:00 PM on Saturday with a forecast for 12-15 from the northeast, and that's exactly what we had. We had almost forgotten what a joy sailing in a moderate breeze and calm seas can be. We were reaching under the full main and jib, averaging a bit over 8 knots, under a star-spangled sky and then a bright half moon, without a single squall. *Hawk* was throwing up phosphorescent fireflies in her wake, and I spent a lot of time sitting on the bow pulpit watching the black velvety water open in front of us. One of the first times this season when being in front of the mast didn't entail a soaking. Absolutely ideal.
On Wednesday, Bill managed to disentangle himself from all of his responsibilities on *Donnybrook* (in addition to tactician he's second helmsman as well as sailmaker - he arrived with three sails for that boat) and reached us about 4:30. He had a quick look at the main where some stitching tore out on a reinforcing patch and confirmed for us that it wasn't anything serious. Then we dropped the chain in the dinghy leaving it to guard our anchor and headed out.
We sail, Bill races. The sails are, to him, flexible membranes which can be manipulated in a dozen different ways to reach an ideal shape which translates into "fast." We had every one of our sails up for twenty minutes or so, and in every case Bill crawled beneath, sighted up the sail, examined the shape and then made suggestions.
"If you tighten those checkstays more, the staysail will set up much better. See, you've not lost anything on the main by doing that and you've really increased the efficiency of the staysail." "The draft in the main has moved aft a bit. Nothing compared to what a Dacron sail would have done after 7,000 miles, but if you were racing I'd suggest you get the sail recut. You're not planning to stop in Annapolis on your way to Scotland, are you?" "If you sheet that storm sail to the toe rail, you'll be able to get it a whole lot flatter which is what you want if you're ever going to close reach into 40-45 knots." After he'd finished, each sail looked as if it had come to attention, like a sloppy soldier sucking in his belly and straightening his spine for company inspection. Our knotmeter showed improvements with every string we pulled.
All too quickly, our precious time with Bill came to an end. As we took him back in to the dock he laughed. "This is the furthest I've ever come for sea trials!" *Hawk* seemed quite disappointed when we returned without him.
Fair winds and full sails, Beth and Evans