Haul Away

Leaving Kingstown Moritz thought we needed to practice some ‘wear ship’ (similar to jibing). No motor this morning – just sail power, and it worked brilliantly. All yards (booms) had to be hauled to the correct angle using the braces (twelve ropes) and secured … sails were unfurled and trimmed (more ropes) – these ones had to be ‘sweated’ … a complicated technique and well-named. Grabbing the rope at shoulder height you would thrust it seaward, then vigourously haul back and down as far possible, and while keeping it taught, push the rope down towards the pin while someone else pulled the line as tight as possible. This would be repeated until there was no movement left. At first, just staying on one’s feet was the primary goal, but slowly, slowly we improved.

Gradually we edged closer to Bequia where plans for a snorkeling stop were rapidly changed due to strengthening wind …. the sails we had just furled were hoisted again. Argh! Mooring for the night was at Mustique … famous island preferred by Princess Margaret, and of late Mick Jagger with his waterfront bar Basil’s. A short wander inland (all uphill) led past pristine houses and gardens. Glen spotted an unusual rock in the shrubbery, but when it moved, turned out to be a large tortoise. Several more were grazing on grassy areas under the palm trees … and one, who found himself on the road and was endeavouring to climb a particularly high curb was in danger of being run over – so we rescued him. Met up with some ship mates at Mick’s bar and were smugly pleased to see all the posh dinner guests lining up to have their photos taken with Eye of the Wind in the background. We should have charged them … especially as the moorage fees were $550 for the night!!! The bay was quite open so the resultant swells made for uncomfortable sleeping.

Sudden squals and gusts to 38 knots the next day meant LOTS more hauling (who needs a gym membership!) but moorage that night was lovely and calm. Pretty town, colourful houses, white sandy beaches, but we were bushed and didn’t go ashore … in fact we were in bed by 9:00 pm!

Once again around 4am woken by pounding feet, engine being started and anchor chain clanking — we had dragged anchor. This time it took two tries and a move further out. Good thing the luxury yacht beside us also dragged her anchor in the same direction. Woke to find one of the red and white inter-island ferries moored almost on top of us (most thoughtful of them). Hauling up the anchor while avoiding drifting into them was intense… and the bowsprit came pretty close as the ferry crew looked on with interest … the main concern being tangled anchor lines. But, captain and crew were magnificent and we were soon on our way.

Cumberland Bay (on main island of St. Vincent) was probably the most tropical and peaceful moorage of the trip. Palm-fringed beach … locals in rowing boats coming out to greet us with wares or recommending the local bar. The one guy with a motorized dinghy took our shore-line to secure.

The bar certainly was ‘rustic’ … mostly held together with shiplap, sheets of corregated iron and bailing wire … but it oozed character … especially the outhouse ’round the back! Packs of dogs everywhere – but they didn’t bother anyone. Eight or nine French rental catamarans cluttered up the shore and disgorged a stream of well-dressed passengers who took photos, briefly wandered the beach and promptly returned to party on board. A fairly decent-sized river flowed into the bay with a breakwater and some unusual-looking trees covered in pink and white blossoms … Wait a minute! The white bits turned out to be dozens of pure white cattle egrets perched like decorative candles.