On to St. Martin

On to St. Martin

Tuesday November 28^th, 2023

After dropping our friends on shore in Charlotte Amalie, we readied Cotinga for a passage.  This mostly involved getting the engine off the dinghy, then lifting the dinghy onto the foredeck and tying it down.  We pulled up the anchor and motored out of the harbor.  Once the mainsail was hoisted we tried to settle down for 20-24 hours of motor-sailing to the east.  

Initially, there was a short period chop combined with some squall activity.  Thinking it over we decided that it might be best to make our way northeast to Virgin Gorda.  That would at least potentially give us a slightly better line toward St. Martin.  It was a delight to transit the Sir Francis Drake channel with mild winds and fairly flat seas. We spotted many locations that we had enjoyed in 2017 and reminisced about our earlier adventures. 

Turning slightly southeast after rounding the north side of Virgin Gorda, we spotted many small pale yellow butterflies crossing our path.  After a while, we realized that the insects were congregating by our boat.  I’m not sure if they were hoping to land on our vessel or if we were creating some wind pattern that was holding them near the boat.  It seemed almost as if we had an escort of dozens of butterflies.  As sunset drew close, they all vanished.

Nightfall marked the start of the more challenging part of the journey.  The winds were building slowly and the seas became much rougher.  It was a bright moonlit night, but compared daylight, it’s still more difficult to see the approaching waves, although much better than no moon! We seemed to be tossed about quite a bit.  Going below was increasingly challenging.  As the night progressed we were both more tired.  Mike wound up doing the lion’s share of the watches, as the Stugeron seasick meds were making me very sleepy.  

As we approached St. Martin, we started to see the occasional pair of floats (presumably from lobster pots) off the starboard side of the boat.  Then suddenly at about 3:30 am, the boat speed dropped right off! Mike looked off the stern and could see one of the floats trailing behind! He quickly turned off the autopilot, the wheel was very stiff and resisted turning.  Turning first one way and then the other, he successfully shook off the float and we continued on our way.  

It was after 4 am by the time we were anchored in Marigot bay off St. Martin.  It was time for a much deserved rest. 

Gloria

18.067 N 63.092 W

A squall over St Johns

Homes of the rich and famous ... Neckar Island, just north of Virgin Gorda ... owned by Richard Branson 

We say goodbye to the British Virgin Islands (far right) as we continue east south east across the Anagada Passage to St Martin

I have always longed to take pictures of the moon on nights like this, when it appears so bright. However, the reality is that there isn't enough light for handheld photos and a tripod isn't useful in this context on a boat. So last night I played around with increasing the ISO ... and I mean seriously cranking it up to 20,000. I can't decide if the resulting photo helps capture the "atmosphere" of sailing offshore in the moonlight, or if it's simply a bag of the proverbial ...

Perspective of a newbie on board Cotinga .....

Perspective of a newbie on board Cotinga .....

Tuesday 28 Nov 2023

Today, Pete, Jo and Simon fly out to Miami to spend the remaining couple of weeks of their trip in Florida. It has been great having them visit us. Gloria and I are going to try to beat our way eastwards to St Martin. It’s about 100 nm and the easterly trade winds are not as light as we had hope they would be, but it’s still the best window for the next week or so. We’ll let you know how that pans out in due course …! Here is Jo's blog entry ...

I’m Jo, wife of Pete one of the ‘novice sailors’ who did the passage. Waving him off into the unknown was a completely new experience for me, as well as him. Having only done some inshore/inland dinghy sailing myself in the past I had no real idea of what they would face on a long passage, but my overall feeling was one of confidence in the ability and huge amount of planning that I knew Mike, as skipper, had already done. They would be fine! 

We had made tentative arrangements months ago about meeting up, although I was told to be prepared to be flexible! I flew out of Heathrow to Miami as planned, stayed over, flew out to the USVI as planned and enjoyed luxury in a hotel for a couple of nights. I am therefore absolutely amazed that by simply tracking Cotinga via Predict and the odd email exchange I was able to walk down to the waterfront just as they were arriving in the dinghy! What are the chances?Was great to see them even though they were all trying to find their landlegs in those first moments back on terra firma and Pete was slightly disoriented! 

My first dinghy ride over to Cotinga was a little bumpy but unbelievably I spotted my first ever sea turtle in the harbour. I hoped that was a good omen for the rest of the cruising that was planned. It was. 

Getting used to the inner workings of the boat was fine but I had to ask precise questions as they assumed it was all straightforward having been living on the boat for at least 2 weeks. It’s way more complicated than our VW campervan, particularly the head initially, but very homely and everything has its own place which I love. 

Cruising the islands of St Thomas and St John, swimming and snorkelling off the boat and simply living on Cotinga has been an amazing experience. I have swum with a couple of spotted eagle rays; ordered tacos in Coral Bay from a floating restaurant; been rained on by tropical showers; learnt more of the history of these islands and slavery; seen amazing wildlife both in the air and water yet have never tired in my 12 days onboard of the thrill of spotting a sea turtle! Just sad I didn’t manage to snorkel with one.  

This has been an experience/adventure that I feel so privileged to have been able to have. It is obvious how important teamwork and communication are on a boat to the smooth running of everything from sailing, sleeping, eating and regular daily chores. I offer a huge thank you to Mike & Gloria for giving me the chance to share part of their bigger adventure - and for the amazing food whilst on board!

Thank you. 

Jo

Squalls pass by Francis Bay, St John

Cloud Abstract

One final spectacular sunset at Christmas Cove

Moonrise at Christmas Cove

We are hoping an almost full moon will make our overnight passage to St Martin a little easier

Reflections from Simon

Reflections from Simon

Sunday 26th Nov 2023

Time to write my blog .. but what to write? 

I considered a simple A to B travelogue, or a comparison with my previous mountaineering experiences (harking back to an old hero, Eric Shipton, climber turned sailor). In my head I compared us to astronauts or reflected on the improvements in sailing technology over time. Would it feel like a pilgrimage; combining a journey through space/time with inner/spiritual (?) enlightement? My conclusion was that the greatest challenge and steepest climb was the "learning curve". There was soooo much to learn on this trip and I have to accept from the outset that I wasn't the best or most attentive student. While, at 63, I don't feel partially old it soon became clear that taking in lots of information, retaining and using it appropriately was to be a significant challenge. Probably not assisted by sleep deprivation (related to the 4 hour watch pattern), managing nausea (initially at least) and the fear of nausea and use of scopolomine patches to aid said sea sickness (medication that has numerous side effects). 

Anyways moving on ... 

Pete and myself (two novice crew) met with Mike (owner/skipper) and Dave (with many years of sailing experience, including racing yachts from his hometown of Richmond in San Francisco). 

We drove to Moorehead City Yacht Basin to join Sailing Vessel Cotinga .. a beautiful 46 foot, single hull yacht built by Morris circa 1999 (complete with stunning cabinets and fittings finished in cherry wood). Our plan .. to sail to St Thomas Island in the US Virgin islands; a distance of circa 1250 nautical miles on the High seas. A reassuring bit of data being that Cotinga had 8000 pounds of lead in her keel (a counterweight beneath the hull) which meant she was virtually impossible to capsize .. especially as the wind tends to spill from the sails as the boat keels over. We soon realized that Cotinga was a very well behaved Vessel inspiring great confidence matched only by my faith in our competent crew members. Over the next two days Mike worked through a check list of essential information: weather forecast sites with complex graphics of winds and currents etc, use of navigation devices and autopilot, emergency systems, life raft and rescue bag (including water, provisions, communication and way point beacon), use of two way radio and the call signs for different levels of concern and risk (mayday being the obvious, extreme call!). 

A trip to Fort Macon helped used get acquainted with the boats small dingy with its outboard motor. The dingy would be stored at the bow for the long passage but used all the time whilst we were cruising in the USVI. It required practice in towing, removing and replacing the motor from the dingy and stowing the dingy on the rear stays. The latter task creating much entertainment as Pete and I tried to work out what to do sans instruction. I think we did reasonably well, only requiring a few tweaks to our rope work! Whilst cruising I had the pleasure of steering the dingy on a number of occasions (thanks Mike) and it was one of the few skills where I developed a reasonable sense of competence. 

Over the next few days we studied and discussed options and timings for setting sail. This was probably the hardest part of all the decision making throughout the trip. We had a long journey ahead which we expected to take up to 10 days. The forecast was mixed and increasingly unreliable as it got further from the present day. Also our situation was made worse by a restriction limiting us to 250 Mike's from land that had been imposed by Mike's insurance. We needed to cross the Gulf Stream (likely to be rough seas) but then risked getting stuck in areas of low wind. As we had insufficient fuel to use our motor for the whole journey it was necessary to chose the most efficient route that would maximize our ability to sail, or at least get wind assistance. Running out of fuel could be a disaster given the potential nil-wind forecast.! 

In all honesty I did not contribute much to these discussions given my lack of knowledge: too many chefs can spoil a meal without the pan washers interference! Mike got support from Dave and Pete but ultimately the decision would be his. This was a huge responsibility but I never felt any doubt about Mike's decision making and never felt any sense of jeopardy. 

On 6th November we set sail and started the Gulf Stream crossing. As predicted the waves were large and very disorganized causing the boat to slide down the swell or slam into the bottom of a trough. Learning to move around the boat was a major issue; especially when combined with an urge to reduce my building sense of nausea. Staying upright was a significant problem but seemed manageable while gazing out at the horizon. Moving down into the galley was horrific .. my body was unaccustomed to moving in so many directions and at so many angles within such a small space of time. The unknown tiny stabilizing muscles weren't up to the task and neither was my stomach! 

Being a tall man didn't help, as I found myself banging my head into doorways or against cupboards as I failed to co-ordinate my actions. Frustratingly I was the only person on board to be sick but, fortunately, though I don't understand why. Luckily I did start to master the art of movement and nausea management after the first day (and the meds may have assisted) though I remained anxious about being sea sick for some days and avoided "close" work for a some time. 

My biggest fear before the trip was that I would not be able to sleep due to the motion of the boat but happily sleeping seemed to be okay so long as I did not engage in unnecessary activity on the way to my bunk. Mike had given a lot of thought to the rota for being on "watch" during the trip: 2 hours on watch 2 hours supporting the watch and 4 hours for sleep and other necessary activity. Supporting the watch was generally straight forward .. basically following instructions, cooking meals (not always easy when getting boiling water into a cup can be hard!) and getting a nap if conditions allowed (as they did for much of the middle period when seas were calm and we were motor-sailing). Being on primary watch was a huge responsibility although there was always an experienced crew member present. The sense of exposure was immense. During the day you felt as if you were sat in the middle of huge undulating disc of various shades of blue and changing temperament. At night the stars kept you company and the night skies were incredible. Watching constellations rise and fall accompanied by numerous shooting stars was incredible. 

I never felt to be an imminent danger although we sailed through one day with regular updates from the coast guard regarding a "man overboard " situation which highlighted the potential danger. Fortunately we constantly wore life jackets and were attached to the boat with a leash .. this also taking some time to learn to manage competently. Being on watch required paying attention to the sails and / or the boats engine, speed and heading. Maintaining an awareness of possible dangers and responding to changes in weather and wind direction. Looking out for other vessels was fairly straight forward: for about seven days of the middle section there were very few vessels indicated on the radar and I probably had visual contact with two .. largely on the horizon. Interestingly I found it hard to distinguish lights on the horizon with stars the were rising or setting. I guess that coming from a cloudy and hilly place I only see stars once they are in the sky so this was an unusual perspective. Navigating/ steering was normally good fun. Keeping the boat close to the heading while maximizing the use of wind in calm conditions was a matter of regular micro adjustments normally to the heading set in the auto-pilot. In more feisty condition steering became more active and was done by hand: trying to hold a course in relation to a distant cloud while steering the most comfortable course through waves and swell provided my favorite conditions .. so long as the conditions remained consistent. 

My least capable moments occurred during "squalls" when wind speed and direction could shift dramatically and my experience/ knowledge/ intelligence could be sorely tested. I may never forget an occasion when the boat was hit by a sudden series of strong gusts heeled over heavily to the starboard side .. bucking and slamming into waves. Now .. anyone who knows Mike will attest to his fine skills as an educator and mentor. On this occasion his instructions contained a degree of urgency and clarity that will remain with me ... " steer the boat Simon .. steer the**** boat ... left hand down Simon .. no .. not that left hand the other left hand .. get a grip .. it's just like driving a car". I can laugh at this now though was devastated by my incompetence in the moment. To be fair to Mike I had steered the boat in a complete circle. To be fair to me .. it's not really like steering a car when there are so many powerful forces acting on the boat and there can be (seemingly) log lags in the yacht responding to changes in input, especially when moving slowly through the water. On top of that the wheel is not like a car given it's 4 foot diameter! On a serious note, Mike and Dave were patient and forgiving teachers and supported Pete and myself through our learning journey. Dave clearly had a wealth of experience and would frequently ask Mike for details about Cotinga which helped in our understanding. 

Mike had an intuitive sense about the performance of his boat and would constantly find ways to push the best performance from her. This was critical to the safety of the trip and to our ability to reach St Thomas Island with a reasonable reserve of fuel under the circumstances. 

As for me .. perhaps I have developed some abilities but wouldn't say that I have a great sense of mastery in many of the tasks associated with the passage. My confidence has improved and I can say that I was definitely pleased to have undertaken the trip .. l might even consider repeating the experience! 

I must thank my friends on the passage as well as Jo and Gloria, who joined us in St Thomas. To have 10 days on board a beautiful vessel with good people is a great privilege. To completely escape the stresses and strains of a dangerous and hostile world facing wars and conflicts was a luxury that few can access. I am grateful for that opportunity. 

Simon

Sightseeing in Saint John. Pete, Jo, Simon, Gloria, Mike (photo: Pete Leeming)

Mike driving the dinghy (far right ... tiny speck!) past the Norwegian Vivi in Charlotte Amalie harbor, Saint Thomas (photo: Jo Leeming)

An excited Mike as we spot land for the first time in 9 days (photo: Pete Leeming)

Pete's Reflections

Pete's Reflections

Friday 24th Nov 2023

It is our tradition to have all our guests write a blog. Below is Pete's blog. I will also post some photos from our stay at Lameshur Bay.

Mike asked Simon and myself to help crew Cotinga on the passage from N Carolina to the US Virgin Islands. So where do I start? - perhaps first by stating that neither Simon nor myself are seasoned sailors which meant, whilst I thought it was going to be a great trip, the fact I hadn't experienced anything like this before, meant I did have some worries about sea sickness, whether the boat would deal with all the conditions we might face and indeed whether I would deal with everything we'd need to face!

After much debating around forecasts, we set off on the 6th Dec from Morehead City NC and immediately my world shrank to the 5m² of the cockpit - where we'd be for the next 10 days. A little bit like the Life of Pi but without the animals. It's odd to think that's the entire limit of your world but you soon grow accustomed to it.

As we crossed over the edge of the continental shelf it was also odd watching the depth meter go from several hundred feet to blank  - knowing there was 17,000ft+ beneath us. Similarly looking at our position mid trip - more than 400 miles to the nearest land was also a little unnerving! But by that time, I'd learnt that Cotinga was such a lovely yacht, built for this kind of travel and I'd become really confident in her sailing capabilities - so much so that I felt really secure despite my initial worries. We crossed the gulf stream on the first day and it was quite rough. I did feel a little nauseas but after that the scopoderm patches seemed to do what they're supposed to and there were no further problems. Having said that it was a few days more before Simon and I could cope with cooking dinners down below!!

We'd spent the days prior to our departure pouring over forecasts to find a suitable window to leave in. Ultimately the continually changing forecasts for 2/3 days time during the passage became what felt like a game of chess with the weather - we agreed a strategy, set off, the weather then plays a counter move, we respond, the weather serves up another surprise, we re-plan etc etc. We spent much time on the forecasts, what to do and endless calculations on how much diesel we had left as light winds turned out to be more of a problem then strong. We did manage to spot dolphins (or were they porpoises?), flying fish, frigate birds and boobys - they provided special rare moments that were enhanced by the lack of any other visible life for large parts of the journey.

I've read a few books by sailor/adventurers - Robin Knox Johnson, Ellen McCarther, Thor Heyerdhal (Kon Tiki), even Moby Dick and read a bit about  the early Atlantic  navigators. Whilst I'm not quite in their league I do have a slightly better understanding of what they faced and the size of their achievements.

Most importantly, Mike stressed beforehand that you need a crew that get on and can work as a team as the most important requirement. I think we did that.

Thank you Mike for giving me this fantastic opportunity and good luck to Gloria and yourself for the rest of your journey!

Pete

A beautiful sunset on our first evening at Lameshur Bay. The yawl behind belongs to a local couple who were out sailing with friends in a similar boat.

Zoomed in on the sunset

A similar view during daylight hours. We snorkeled off the point of land in the near background and it was beautiful - a wide variety of fish and relatively healthy coral

On a hike out to the same point of land we saw lots of wildlife ... of the insect type

Paper wasps building a nest

This spider was about an inch across (including legs)

Cruising the US Virgin Islands

Cruising the US Virgin Islands

Friday 17th - Wednesday 22nd November

Charlotte Amalie, the capital of St Thomas, is a bustling noisy town. It’s a pretty good anchorage with easy access to shore by dinghy. We used our time here to get the boat ready for cruising, re-filling fuel and water, and stocking up on provisions for the week ahead. By Saturday we were keen to get going on our mini-cruise because the winds were strong and veering round to the south, making the anchorage uncomfortable. We headed up to Christmas Cove for an overnight stop before starting a clockwise circuit of St John. 

Most of St John is a National Park and it is beautiful. When we last visited in 2017-8 it had just been hit by hurricanes Irma and Maria and was pretty beaten up. Over the past few days we spent time in Hawksnest, Trunk and Francis Bays, all on the north coast, all of them lovely. Anchoring is not allowed, but the National Park Service provide moorings for $26/night (or half of that with a National Park Senior Pass) which are easy to pick up, well maintained and reduce anchoring damage to to seabed. We ave hiked into Cruz Bay, done a little snorkeling and plenty of swimming from the boat. From Francis Bay we walked along to the Annaberg Sugar Mill ruins, which we had visited in 2017-8 with Tasha. It’s interesting to read about the history of sugar production, all based on slavery. This plantation was an intense operation, generating 300-500 gallons of sugar cane juice per hour for evaporation. It was hard and dangerous work, and as you might imagine, the slaves were treated very poorly. It wasn’t until 1848 that the slaves on St John were emancipated. We got sample some local baking, Johnny cakes and coconut bread, as well as chewing on some sugar cane, which was very juicy!

After several days of fine living, we started to run short of food and drink. We weren’t going to go hungry but we had completely run out of fresh fruit and vegetables, and were dangerously low on beer. Realizing that tomorrow would be Thanksgiving we focussed our plans for today on getting to a grocery store. We left Francis Bay and continued eastwards along the north coast of St John, passing close to the British Virgin Islands, before sailing back westwards along the south coast and into the harbor of Coral Bay. This delightful town is outside of the National Park and has a community of live-aboard boaters. We dropped anchor, took the dinghy into shore and then walked to the local supermarket, which was surprisingly good, if somewhat expensive. We decided to lunch at the local floating taco restaurant “Lime and Salt” … which turned out to be an eye opening experience! We opted to get takeaway, but if you want to stay for cocktails and lunch you must swim up to one of several floating seats that surround the restaurant, about 6 feet away from the main structure. The drinks and meals are pushed across the divide on floating trays. There are a couple of “ferries” that shuttle customers from the dinghy dock to within swimming distance of the restaurant. It was absolutely buzzing! There isn’t room for 5 people to sit and eat lunch in the “Dainty Dog” (our new dinghy), so we ordered 10 tacos and took them back to Cotinga. In fact we need to do two trips whenever we go anywhere in the dinghy with five of us. The tacos were amazing! Having eaten our fill, we pulled up the anchor and continued round the wild and beautiful south coast to Lameshur Bay. We haven’t been here for long, but my first impression is that this is the most beautiful location we have been to thus far in the USVI. It’s quiet, well protected from the swell and absolutely beautiful. 

Mike

18.315N, -64.722W

Chickens run around everywhere in the USVI

Similarly, there are plenty of Iguanas. I spent quite a while trying to photograph this wonderful specimen and this was the best of the set, where "he" was lit up in the sunlight (plus fill-in flash) and his head was distinct from all the leaves and branches.

A less colorful iguana, shown off against the backdrop of a yellow wall.

This lady was a volunteer with the US Park Service and gave us some traditional baked goods - johnny cake and coconut bread - at the Annaberg Sugar Plantation. There is no enhancement of color or saturation in this portrait. Her clothing, jewelry and head scarf were really as glowing and beautiful as they appear. She was the perfect model! 

Pete and Jo sit on the edge of the floating "Lime and Salt" bar / restaurant as we await our order of tacos. this place was amazing ... like no business venture I have seen anywhere else! 

The view from our mooring in Lameshur Bay ... drop dead gorgeous. 

What is it Like on a big Passage?

What is it Like on a big Passage?

Sunday 19th Nov 2023

I watch quite a few YouTube videos of sailors, and I’m envious of those that find long passages to be periods of quiet calm and meditation. To me they mostly feel somewhat monotonous, at times stressful and always tiring! 

As far as I am concerned the most important aspect of trip planning is having the right people. I have been very fortunate to have sailed with wonderful people who are easy to get along with and fun to hang out with. Dave, Pete and Simon are great friends and were terrific people to spend time with on the passage. 

We followed a watch schedule of 2-hours ON, followed by 2-hours in SUPPORT and then 4-hours OFF. In this way we always had a minimum of two people in the cockpit, and if everything was quiet, the support person could just doze, whilst the on-watch person monitored the situation. In contrast to 2017, we ran the watch schedule 24-7, not to ensure we had coverage during the day, but rather the opposite, to encourage everyone who wasn’t needed to get some extra sleep. I think we all felt this worked well. Pete, Dave and Simon all managed to sleep reasonably well, but I really struggled to put together much in the way of decent sleep. I don’t know if it is the constant worry of what will come next, but I didn’t seem to be able to fall asleep easily and I don’t think I slept more than an hour or two at a time for the entire passage. This is not what your body needs and it left me feeling exhausted.

We put a lot off thought into food for the passage and had several meals cooked in advance and frozen down in a fridge at the marina. These required little preparation other than warming up. We also had some freeze dried meals that simply needed hot water adding, and we did do this on the first night. We ate chicken marengo, peanut chicken stew, curry, beef and cabbage, pasta and sauce, …. For breakfast we mostly ate muesli and fruit, bagels, or eggs in some form, and for lunch, cheese and salami, crackers, lentils and tortillas …. We ate well! The person who was in SUPPORT at the relevant time was in charge of cooking and clearing up that meal. We had a one hour “team time” in the morning, intended as an opportunity to discuss how things were going, but in reality it mostly served to move the schedule by one hour a day so everyone’s watch schedule advanced and we all got to see sunrises, sunsets and different parts of the day. Some schedules are better than others at night, and this would all equal out over several days.

Some of the times conditions were rough. The sail out to the Gulf Stream was “lively” and Simon was a little seasick. Simon, Pete and I all wore scopolamine patches for the duration of the passage. Some additional ondansetron, prescribed by my doctor, helped settle Simon down and he had no further problems. The Gulf Stream itself was very bumpy, with steep, short period waves form various directions. We ended up hand steering quite a large section of this. I also recall uncomfortable conditions before we made our final turn south, when we ran into some squalls that kicked up nasty seas. We also encountered dead-calm and glassy, mirror-like seas. At these points we had no choice but to motor-sail. 

As the calms followed us along our path, we began to get concerned about our diesel supplies. On the one hand, we had been warned by our weather forecasters not to fall behind schedule or we might miss the chance to catch trade winds as the windless high pressure moved south. On the other hand the faster we motored the more fuel we used. As the journey went on, this became a constant source of stress. At one point, we thought we had reached the trades then lost them in a series of squalls. We were seriously concerned about spending days bobbing around in windless seas. I even contemplated heading to Bermuda to pick up more diesel. We ditched this idea when it became clear that this would result in us navigating 11 foot seas. We were also reassured by more weather input that suggested the squalls were localized and we should pick up trade winds on the far side. From there on we motored at very low revs (1500 rpm) and monitored fuel levels with a dipstick. We all longed to reach the point where we felt confident we had enough fuel to finish. Eventually, about 150 nm from St Thomas, we finally picked up solid NE-E winds around 15 knots that allowed us to have a fabulous beam reach sail for the final 24 hours. We carried 145 gallons of diesel and ended up using about 120 gallons ... not exactly environmentally friendly.

One of the best parts of passage-making is getting there! We first saw land in the early afternoon of our 9th day and passed the northern islands of the USVI shortly after sunset. We chose a slightly longer path to our desired anchorage, to avoid navigating a narrow tidal cut, and sailed around some islands using our electronic instruments. We tried to find a mooring ball in Christmas Cove, but were unable to find an empty one, so we dropped anchor. I have become pretty familiar with anchoring in the dark and find the radar very helpful (day or night) in determining how close you are to other boats. We felt the anchor was securely set and we were in a calm well protected location. I think it was about midnight that we had a quick beer before hitting the sack. The following morning Dave inspired us to take a swim off the boat, which was absolutely marvelous!

My photos are time-stamped, but in reality I cannot differentiate most days of the passage. It’s partly due to the effects of scopolamine patch, but the days just blend into one another. Its takes some time to absorb the fact that you have made it and to square away your thoughts of the trip. One question that comes up is “would you do it again?”. I can say for myself that this is the last time I will bring the boat south to the Caribbean. We may keep it down here a while; at some point we will sail back to New England (which can be done in much easier hops between islands), but I’m not planning to do the Caribbean 1500 again!

Mike

Sunset Day 3

Sunrise Day 4

Glassy seas as we motor towards the elusive trade winds

Dave enjoying a quiet moment at the bow in dead calm conditions

Puffy clouds in the late afternoon of Day 4

A dramatic sunrise on Day 6

Yes! ... we find north easterly winds on Day 6 ..., but not so fast, they evaporate in the squalls ahead

We would have passed on the beautiful sunrise just to have decent winds!

A brown booby Day 9

The amazing crew ... Simon, Pete and Dave ... late afternoon Day 9