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Report Two from the Otter: Bermuda
to Aruba
Sunday,February14,1999
150 miles SW of Nevis, headed for Aruba
Conditions: wind, ENE, 10 knots; seas, 1-2’
Dear Friends and E-mail family,
Otter is on a broad reach. Finally, the perfect sailing day, which
gives me time to catch up on my journal and write a report to readers of the
Milford Mirror, to be posted in Aruba.
My last message to the Mirror was shortly after I arrived in
Bermuda in November; I was grateful to be there after a hellish eight-day
run from Block Island.
From Bermuda, I spent eight days on a port tack with the wind between 15
and 30 knots. There was the occasional rainsquall, with gusting to 35.
Raising, lowering, reefing, and shaking out reefs. But no really bad weather
like leg one.
The following are catch-up entries in the "Log of the Otter."
Brec
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Saturday, December 19 – Thursday, December 24 --
At noon the 19th I cast off and started out of town, out the
narrow entrance to St. Georges that I was so happy to see four weeks before.
I pass the last channel buoy and turn right. The wind is from the
northeast, gray and lumpy, and I’m starting to feel seasick again. I take
some Sturgeron and it helps.
Christmas Eve, 1998 --
I spend Christmas Eve by thoroughly washing and shaving. A project in a
bouncy boat - dressing up and holding my own Christmas Eve service aloud. The
whales sang along with the bass line. The service lasted over an hour.
Christmas Day, 1998
At sea. I reefed down and chugged along at 2-1/2 to 3 knots. I don’t want
to be bothered with sail changes today. It’s a holiday. Even out here.
I imagine friends and family and how their day is going: When are they
opening presents? When are they sitting to dinner? What are they eating?
I look out at the waves that have been rolling on for eternity-- the water
temporarily receives the wave energy that flows through it. I feel that energy
temporarily flowing through me, connecting me with all those I love.
I read in a book on single-hand sailors that Bito Dumas said, "One
must always say goodbye to all things. Ports, towns, human contacts, and pass
on. I went on again and again with a little spark glowing inside me."
Sunday, December 27 --
5:00 a.m. I wake up early and my GPS position puts me near enough
to the islands that I should see land.
7:15 a.m. I stand in the bright, early morning sun. Perfect deep
blue sky, puffy clouds on the horizon. Then, under the layer of clouds, like a
magic land from a fairy tale, the misty outline of Jost Van Dyke and Tortola
just show.
They are large and very high. I’m transfixed and finally start whooping
and yelling. Little silver fish spatter out of the water as if startled. I
turn around and off the stern is a rainbow! A perfect conclusion to a
storybook passage.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
December 27, 1998 – February 12, 1999:
Provisioning, Island-hopping, and Family Visits
I spend a few days in St. Thomas doing minor repairs and reprovisioning.
I discover their new Super K-Mart. I’ve read that everything in French
Polynesia is expensive, so I buy cases of tuna fish.
I was in the Virgin Islands when I was 18 in 1965. The growth in many
areas has made it unrecognizable. Does paradise have five international
banks and a branch of Ernst Young?
Sailed Otter to Jost Van Dyke and spent New Year’s Eve at Foxy’s
Bar. The third-best party in the world, according to Newsweek. After
getting covered with champagne and glitter at midnight under palm trees, I
had to clear dancers out of my dinghy on the beach in order to get back to
the boat.
After New Year’s Eve, Jost Van Dyke is low-key and more like what I’d
remembered the islands to be. I spent a week there, hiking, watercoloring,
and doing the endless boat chores.
The islands have always attracted paradise seekers, not just me, and I
ran into a number of them, looking for the perfect place to set up utopian
communities.
I also had a beer with a yacht broker in Roadtown who claims to have met
the most unique single-handed sailor ever. The sailor was going around the
world in a 20-foot boat and not going to write a book about it!
The January visits from family in St. Croix were all too short. Sandy
joined me again and we sailed from Virgin Gorda to St. Maarten. Even though
it’s only 80 miles, it took us a full two days slogging and tacking into
25 knot plus winds. Sandy’s assessment of long distance (for her) sailing
is that it’s totally boring.
In St. Maarten, we visited and had dinner with friends from Milford Boat
Works who were chartering a boat named Thongboy. Sandy flew back from
St. Maarten and the boat felt empty. Adjusting to not seeing each other for
six months was difficult.
Short stops in St. Bart’s and St. Kitt’s, then to Nevis, the
birthplace of Alexander Hamilton. I anchored off Charlestown to prepare and
provision for the jump to Aruba. I spent two days at the same anchorage
where Horatio Nelson came when he was courting his Nevesian wife, Fanny
Nesbett.
On the sail from St. Kitts to Nevis, I had an inspiration for the name of
my inflatable. I’ve always thought Tender To or T/T to be
not really a name, so Otter is now followed by the Runcible Spoon.
(Runcible gets deflated and lashed on deck when offshore).
The following are underway notes from Nevis to Aruba.
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Saturday, February 13 –
Left Nevis for Aruba.
Sunday, February 14 --
A perfect sailing day. Caught up on journal notes.
Monday, February 15 --
The wind died for most of the day. I motored over seas so flat to the
horizon that it was odd. My first time seeing a flat ocean.
The rays of sunlight dropping through the deep blue water near the boat
like a watery pipe organ. The plankton silvery and giving the endless depth of
blue a glittery look.
Tuesday, February 16 --
The wind picked up and I was soon double-reefed with a scrap of jib. Gray
clouds came up and rain showers all day.
Wednesday, February 17 --
Gray with occasional sun. I’m under 20 sq. feet of jib and going 5-1/2
knots. Dead down-wind waves are up to nine feet and cresting. I realize I’m
going to make landfall at midnight on Thursday unless I slow down.
I roll in the jib further and release a stout bucket at the end of 100’
of half-inch nylon rope in a bight across the stern. That slows us to about
two knots and slows the surfing.
Still blowing 25+ knots. I nap all day knowing I’ll be up all night as we
approach Aruba.
Thursday, February 18 –
12:01 a.m. I see the glow of Curacao to my left and Aruba to my
right on the back horizon. No moon.
3:00 a.m. I pull in the bucket, put out the jib, and pick up speed
again.
6:30 a.m. Coming around the southeast point of Aruba was
disappointing: the oil refineries there were just like New Jersey complete
with a strong sulfur smell blowing across the water. I thought, "This is
going to be awful."
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February 19, 1999
Aruba
Dear Friends and E-mail Family,
Fortunately, Oranjestad is very different, very beautiful, extremely
upscale and friendly.
I cleared customs and tied up at the Seaport Marina by noon, then took a
long, well-earned sleep. I’ll be in Aruba about one week, then on to
Panama. The weather schedule calls for starting for the Galapagos as early
in April as possible.
Brec
End of Report Two
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