A Christmas Night Passage To St. Martin
27 December 2009 | Simpson Bay Lagoon
kurt flock, warm, sunny, slight breeze
[The photo above was taken Christmas day just before we left for St. Martin. The Bitter End is a spectacular resort area, attracting an amazing array of yachts, including mega motor and sailing vessels like the ones shown.]
[New photo gallery uploaded 12/28/09:A Little Night Crossing]
We're just finishing breakfast at the Piece of Cake Gelateria, a funky little place a short walk from the dinghy dock at the Simpson Bay Marina. Kate just lives for this stuff - a light egg / mozzarella crepes with bacon, a cappuccino, and a refreshing pineapple orange juice. The free wifi is allowing us to catch up with email, etc. We're in familiar territory. We've been here a few times before when we had our Island Packet and when we've chartered with Sunsail on St. Martin. While it's nice exploring new places, there's something comforting about returning to places you've been. It's a welcome break after our crossing from the BVI's, and somehow, not to take anything away from the Caribbean 1500, this almost feels like the start of our cruising adventure.
On Christmas eve we downloaded some GRIB weather files and reviewed forecasts with some of our Caribbean 1500 friends who also were planning to jump from Virgin Gorda to St. Martin. The forecast called for some very unusual atmospheric rotations with west winds that would provide a push to the east. You have to pick a good weather window when you head west to east this time of year. Normally you experience strong easterlies with waves on the nose. It can be a very uncomfortable beat to windward. This forecast looked promising, but it was only noon or so when we decided to go. That didn't leave a lot of time to organize an orderly departure. We'd try to pull out of Gorda Sound by 5:30 or 6:00 p.m., and by 6:00 we were only 90% prepared. At about 6:15, we called off our departure. There were still too many things to, and the weather was a bit iffy, so we stood down. It was a good call. During the night, we experienced squally conditions in Gorda Sound. The winds clocked around 360 degrees, providing for a time that westerly push. One guy in the Sound said he'd been there two months, and he'd never seen the winds behave as they did that night. So we spent Christmas day at the Bitter End Resort on and prepared for a crossing Christmas evening. Two of the boats we were hanging out with made the same call.
Since I cleared left Leverick Bay a half hour before sunset and headed for St. Martin with full main and Yankee up. We were traveling with North Star and Ceol Mor, both couples with two kids aboard. We waved goodbye to Gorda Sound and rounded through the Necker Passage, past the "invisibles", the only remaining hazard before St. Martin. We felt very good about the weather. It was a gorgeous sunset, and the winds were 12-14 knots from the south. The seas appeared settled. We anticipated a good passage.
We were not disappointed. The temperature was perfect, and for several hours we reached along with the motor under full sail. Normally we reef down for any night sailing, but the conditions tonight we had our canvas flying. A waxing moon lit the seas. The breeze was a steady 10-14 knots. Winds and surface waves from the south helped settle the north swells. The seas weren't terribly confused, so the table was set for a very pleasant passage. Merry Christmas to us.
Normally, Kate and I will hand off the watch during night passages. There's a bit of adrenaline going as you leave, and both of us wanted to experience the sunset and moon rise. At some point however, it's prudent to begin a watch rotation so each of us gets some sleep. We're cinched up in our pfd's and tethered to u-bolts in the cockpit, as is Sophie. Kate knocked Sophie out with a half tab of Dramamine, so she was sleeping like a baby. By 11:00 p.m. we started a two hour watch rotation. Rather than leave the cockpit, whoever was off duty would sleep curled up on the cockpit floor. It's actually more comfortable than it sounds.
I took over the helm at 1:00 a.m. and spent a couple of hours listening to Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young sing Wooden Ships, Southern Cross, and some other great stuff. Also listened to In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida twice. Hey, whatever it takes to stay awake, right?! Kate came on at 3:00 a.m., and we agreed to switch off every hour until morning. Problem was, I puttered away with charts and position plots for the next hour, and before I knew it, I was back at the helm and Kate was back asleep. Oh well. I resolved then to let her sleep until we arrived at St. Martin. I've pulled long watches before, and it's not big deal, particularly when it's just one night.
Somewhere about 4:00 a.m., I noticed that North Star's nav lights were veering north. I figured correctly that they had a change of plans during the night and had decided to head for Anguilla. We maintained our course for St. Martin. The sails started to flog from lack of wind - that's right, lack of wind. So I furled the Yankee and a bit of the main. No sense listening to sails slack'n pop through the night. So it turned out exactly as the updated forecast predicted, a quiet motor sail crossing with the winds dying off to inconsequential about 4:00 a.m. By this time, I was following the glow in the eastern sky which I knew was from the lights on St. Martin. At this point, you don't need a chart plotter, gps, or even a chart. The only thing is to watch out for the odd cruise ship that could run over your ass during the night - if you're not paying any attention at all.
The seas were busy. There were numerous other vessels heading east and west among the islands, but none came too close for comfort. I was in heaven. The stars were twinkling. The breeze was a soft kiss. Our Yanmar was purring. No problems of any sort, and we were just hours away from Simpson Bay Lagoon and baguettes and crepes and French cappuccinos! Does it get any better?!
Kate rousted herself around 6:30 a.m., a bit groggy, but happy that what can be a hairy passage was nearing an end. We watched the sun rise over St. Barths, her favorite place on the planet. It would have to wait a few days. We plan a date on St. Martin with a Panda generator guy, because the new board I installed worked for about 1.3 hours, and the generator shut down again. I think it's a bad capacitor, but at this point, I'm gonna leave that one to the trained experts. We've also decided to add solar panels on the boat to help keep the batteries charged up. St. Martin has some of the best marine supply and service provides in the Caribbean, so we'll just order up what we need and hang out between St. Barths and St. Martin until we have everything done we want done.
We arrived at Simpson Bay at 7:30 a.m. Ceol Mor was right behind us, so we launched our dinghy and I picked up Jim, and we went in to clear customs together. We were clearing in on the Dutch side of the island. I prefer this to the French side at Marigot. We both opted to pay the $70 or so that allowed us to enter and anchor in Simpson Bay Lagoon. The fee included a $40 bridge passage charge (they raise the bridge so you can get in and out), and a $30 fee that would allow us to remain anchored in the Lagoon for up to a week. This was plenty of time as we still plan on being on St. Barths a day or two before New Year's Eve.
We waited as an incredible parade of mega yachts left the lagoon. Once the outbound traffic cleared the bridge, they lowered it to relieve backed up traffic. A half hour later, they raised it for the inbound boat traffic. We were third in line, and I took photos of Ceol Mor as they entered the lagoon for their first time. Five minutes later we were in the lagoon, and I ran Myananda aground! It was a mud bottom, so it wasn't a big deal. I reversed the engine and pulled off the mud. The lagoon is notoriously shallow. We ended up anchoring in 8' of water. We have a 6' draft. Not only can you see your anchor on the bottom, but you can see most of the scope you let out as well.
And so it goes. We made it from the BVI's to St. Martin. Our Christmas departure and uneventful passage was as nice a present as we would wish. We think often about our friends and family back home though. There are moments when we feel we should be back there sharing time with everyone, especially during the holidays, but we know everyone understands we're doing something special, something we've worked toward for a long time. We'll catch up when we return, and in the meantime, we hope everyone stays healthy and alive! Keep us in your thoughts. We'll do likewise.