Been awhile since I stood a four to eight watch at sea. Been even longer since I have gotten a boat underway by myself in the pitch black of night to head out to sea. The girls all slept as I slipped us from the mooring in North Sound on Virgin Gorda and headed out the channel for Anegada Passage towards Anguilla. I smile just saying the names in my mind. They are lusciously foreign on the tongue, yet familiar in spirit.I rounded Necker Island before 430AM, and pointed the bow Southeast. Thanks to Richard Branson for keeping it lit like a Celebrity cruise ship, it makes missing the fringing reef easier in the dark.
The seas are calm, the infamous Caribbean two-step absent for now. The predominant swell this far East generally comes from the Northeast, from the deep Atlantic. The predominant winds from the East or Southeast generating waves. The two combined can make for a confused and uncomfortable ride many days, but not bad at all this morning. The winds are a little far SE for a fast sail, but light, less than 10 knots. We will motor sail the passage to make it before sunset, thank goodness for sound Volvo Penta engines.
A big rain squall passed to the South of our route just at daybreak. I forget how peaceful and awe inspiring sunrise at sea on a small boat with little but water around you can be. The puffy cumulus clouds skirting along the horizon appear low enough that you could reach up and grab them. The palette of pastels and gray splashed across the sky give promise to a new and spectacular day. Your ass soon adjusts to the motion and rhythm of the boat through the water. Easier now since you can visually place a horizon with the movement. I may never truly like the jerky nature of the catamaran bounce over waves after years on monohulls, including one football shaped buoy tender. However, she is stable, high in the water, dry and spacious…all reasons we picked this boat over a number of others.
Another change is the reliance on electronic toys and tools that has significantly decreased workload, but shifted attention from outside the cockpit, to inside. Just like in airplanes, you can really navigate yourself safely from A to B with a wristwatch, compass and paper chart. But the chartplotter, radar and autopilot sure make the short-handed boat watch easier, albeit with more light pollution. Dad always scoffed at pilots that kept their heads down fiddling with instruments and GPS nav stations instead of looking around for situational awareness and to appreciate the beauty of small plane flight. I feel the same way about sailing, and if the grounding of the Volvo racer Vestas Wind in the middle of the Indian Ocean proves anything, it is that a million dollars of electronic navigation equipment is useless if you cannot miss a reef that Magellan charted. Great article here on this issue. I prefer my visual and audible cues, but do appreciate that I can set the autopilot, confirm my position and course on the chartplotter and rest easy that radar will illuminate the unlit vessels or obstructions around me.
The sun rose off the port bow in my face bathing everything in warm yellow tones. The uncertainty of night at sea, alone on watch passes. I kept the crew and boat safe once again. And in that moment realized that I could not be happier than here, now with the woman I love snuggled contently in our berth on a boat at sea.
I marooned the sailswomen, Faye and Jen, on a white sand beach with numerous chaise lounge chairs and a bar less than twenty feet away. I think they might enjoy their punishment for subversive behavior too much. We hope to see them again soon for the next adventure, but am sure they needed the break from us.
We then ducked around the corner into Sopers Hole Marina for some needed laundry, cleaning (boat and body) and minor maintenance(just boat). Our boat liaison, David George, has been incredibly responsive and helpful with our minor equipment needs. He graciously brought his wife to do a boat cleaning while K and I ran to do laundry and provisioning.
Before we knew it, we needed to pick up Rita and Judy at the ferry. They seemed to have had a painless trip, and all the additional goodies and toys they brought were nice to have. Seems my clothes have been getting a bit big and loose. Hurray for clean living and drinking most meals. So, nice to have some things I haven’t fit into in some time.
We spent the night in the marina, getting a bit shafted on the last night of high season rates, but it made the transition smoother. Rita and Judy settled in easily, and we enjoyed a wonderful dinner at Lime and Fish in Westend.
We departed midday for a nice sail to Norman Island. The ladies had a refreshing snorkel at the caves, and we had sundowners at the Willy T. Got to witness an idiot try to vault himself over the rail from the third deck into the water, only to get caught up, flip over, split his head open on the metal deck, and fall into the water 25′ below. Luckily he wasn’t more seriously injured, but VISAR was called out to transport him back to Tortola for medical treatment. I bet his wife was pissed off to cut the trip short. Lesson for the day: don’t become a sixty year old with a beer belly and an alcohol induced sense of invincibility. GoPro has made everyone think they are Travis Pastrana.
Today, we slipped the mooring ball under sail, quietly vacating The Bight. Then, K and I dove the Rhone wreck site while the ladies snorkeled and floated around the boat. K liked the dive claiming it was enough of a wreck to be interesting and enough reef life to keep your attention moving. She chased a turtle or two and stuck her head up in the hull to see schools of grunts and glassy sweepers. Here is a link to a short Rhone dive video. Anchored off Cooper for the night.
Sorry this post is very travelogue-ish. Harder to be introspective with all of the logistics of the last 36 hours. I do understand however, why serious cruisers bypass, or quickly pass through the BVI, on their way south. Everything is 3-4 times more expensive than it needs to be and the crowds of bareboat amateurs are everywhere. It is nice seeing people experience sailing and the beauty of the tropics, but it has become a bit Disney-esque tourist trap. I realized it has been 17 years since my first trip here with a crew of USCGA cadets. Man, time flies…and somethings never change. We will head down island as soon as we can and hopefully our budget survives BVI.
Missing Utila in some ways. Glad we shanghaied a bit of the island to be our crew for a bit longer. Still not missing Reno, would like to have the pets with us; but the sun, salt and sea agree with my body and help my temperament immensely. No firm ideas about final plans…stay tuned.
The days of easy and free wifi are gone. Our memory of BVI as a place that has wifi at every mooring is just that, a memory. So in order to get some work done (and, of course, continue updating our regular readers) I was given a mission: procure a mobile hotspot.
We pulled up to the end of a dock at the Moorings facility. We didn’t know it at the time, but it happened to be their fuel dock. The dock manager graciously allowed us to stay, but asked that we be gone in an hour. We decide to divide and conquer. Roger stayed with the boat to wait for the maintenance guy who was coming to solve some minor issues. Our friends went to the store for further provisions (this usually means more rum and more cheese given our current diets). And I set off on my own to find a hotspot.
I first tried to find a Moorings office, to ask someone where the best place to look would be. Because we didn’t have access to the internet, I couldn’t employ my typical solution – Google. I set off through the Moorings facility, marveling at the size and number of catamarans they now have. Simply massive boats big enough to have full-size teak picnic sets on a deck above the cockpit. There were beautiful shining boats galore, but no office. So I kept on walking toward the grocery store. Surely, where there is one store there must be another, right?
Not really. There was just a grocery store, liquor store, and gas station. Fortunately for me, a group of police officers were on the sidewalk, apparently handing out tickets to jaywalkers (like our friends who had just scampered over to the store). As I approached, one officer asked me if I would like to cross the street. I said no and told him of my mission.
“I’m looking to purchase a mobile hotspot, do you know where I could do that?”
“I think you need to go to the Lime office, wouldn’t you?”
“Probably.” I continued to just stand there, expectantly.
“Do you know where that is?”
“No. Do you?”
He laughed and said, “of course.” He signaled to his compatriots, a younger man and woman also in uniform. It seemed that he was getting ready to leave.
“Can you tell me how to get there, please?”
“I’m giving you a ride.”
And with that, I climbed into the back of the kind officer’s car. With barely another word spoken, he chauffeured me to the door of the Lime office at which I successfully purchased the very mobile hotspot that made this post possible.
We can tell a lot of stories about diving, beaches, and rum drinks that differentiate life on a boat from life in Reno. For me though, it’s this kind of story that illustrates the biggest difference. I was completely out of my element, wandering lost on the street, searching for a tool that we need, and pressured by a time limit. I had absolutely no clue how I was going to succeed until a total stranger took pity on me. Without his help, I never would have pulled it off. (And without my distraction, our friends may have gotten a jaywalking ticket.)
This post has been months in the works, so bear with me. I wanted to provide some reflections on my time in Utila, with the perspective of being away for a week.
As K mentioned in an early post, you have to embrace the fact you are not in a “developed” country to truly love Utila. Yes, there are huge open gutters running along the streets and paths that in years past ran sewage to the bay (they have a sewage plant now); yes, there are dogs, kids, chickens and oblivious tourists wandering down the middle of the single lane roads competing for space with open tuk-tuk scooters, rusted bikes and the occasional delivery truck; yes, the restaurants open randomly in both days and hours, along with the all the other stores; and yes, the power lines do nearly drag the street once they have stretched out, until UPCO sends three guys with ladders and a truck winch to tighten them up. But you have reliable power, reliable internet, some incredibly cheap food, and nearly zero crime.
So, getting past the yuppie, pretentious entitled first world snobbery of the middle-class American is the first thing you have to do to enjoy Utila. I am sure it is easier for the young and the backpackers, they don’t usually have the benefit(?) of years of momentum in the suburbs with 50 hour/week jobs, taxes, bills and social obligations. I am not suggesting that you cannot have both a pretty ticky tack McMansion and BMW and an open mind about travel and foreign cultures; I am saying that this was my first long-term immersion into a foreign country, living by their rules without expecting the safety net of modern America to fix my problems. It took a serious commitment before I left to create an expectation level, then destroy it all together and leave myself open to whatever the island provided. And boy did Utila succeed on so many levels.
First and foremost, the locals and expats are wonderful, generous and kind. It is often said that the quality of the people may be the biggest factor in enjoyment of your travels; and Utilians are amazing. They are happy to greet you with a “Good morning” as you bike down the street to work. They quickly remember your name, or at least which dive shop you are associated with. They have seen so many backpackers and tourists come and go that they really seem to appreciate when someone has been on island longer than a month and seems to start acting like a resident of their little community. The institutional knowledge and coconut telegraph of the locals and expats is incredible. From which day the freshest veggies show up on the ferry, to who to see for a broken bike cassette, to finding fresh fish at a local home on the cays for lunch. Living there day in and day out creates a vast library of knowledge that when collected and used, makes life on the island pretty easy and enjoyable. I think the people we met and that embraced us into their daily routines were the absolute best part of my trip. We owe so many people our gratitude for making our trip fun, safe and unique that it would take an entire post alone.
Next for me was the simple beauty in the things around you. Yes, each day’s sunset was generally spectacular. The ocean and beachfront vistas could be breathtaking and the diving is amazing. But look close and you see the shaky leg lizards in their blue and green finery racing along the dirt paths, you see the hundreds of egrets and pelicans in the lagoon all nesting in one big tree sticking up out of the murky water, you may see an eagle ray’s wing tips flapping the water of the flats as you pedal along the beach to work, or you may just notice that the breeze perfectly cools you as you rock luxuriously in the hammock sipping a cold Imperial beer. Without the noise of distraction, whether it be work, family, television or the myriad of things we fill our days with at home, the wonder all around becomes apparent. Although we generally do notice it, most of the time in our real lives we ignore it for more “important” options. Guess I’m tired of the distractions when the real world can be so entertaining and invigorating. I have no idea what is happening on TV shows, don’t really care about the latest gossip or political b.s., and marginally care that I cannot hear all the Giants games on the radio or streaming. Ok, the later would only enhance the boat lifestyle, so I am working on my Sirius radio reception issue.
We made some hopefully lifelong friends. I have never been great at regularly maintaining relationships with acquaintances or co-workers. Good friends or very interesting people I will travel the world to visit and see again and again. But Utila made it clear that the quality of people in your life is extremely important and one must expend the necessary energy to ensure to make those relationships productive and enjoyable.
Now the not so good, and the list is short. You can easily get sucked into the 20-something backpacker lifestyle of diving all day, grabbing a baleada for late afternoon snack and proceed to drinking the evening away. The conversation and antics are usually enjoyable, but you can easily piss away $25 a night in partying (a well-employed divemaster makes about $20/day) and have a decision to make around 1AM about whether you stay up all night to continue the fun, or find your bed, or maybe the nearest bed, for some sleep before the 7AM dive boat. Life on Utila for expats isn’t much more cut and tried, because they either dabble unsuccessfully in the backpacker lifestyle, seeming a little creepy for hanging around the bars at midnight; or ostracize themselves in their homes, going out irregularly and then only with other expats for sundowners or dinner; or they jump in with both feet and will be the first ones at the bar when it ones at noon, and completely hammered by 7pm when the “youth” are just about to get started. Seems like it would be tough to keep a set of boundaries and parameters without some of the “trappings” of adult life to keep you from having too much fun on a regular basis.
Finally, I opened my eyes to a serious concern, and this one is not unique to Utila, or in fact a criticism of Utilans. But, we as a species have decided that the world is our garbage heap or toilet bowl without any concern for the ramifications. Two cases in point: (1) the amount of plastic covering every square inch of the windward shores of most land masses; and (2) the irreparable damage our sewage is doing to the reefs and organisms of the world’s waters. I cannot blame any one place or people for the plastic issue. Utila has beach cleanup days 6-8 times a year, however they too use their share of plastics without a recycle system in place. But the fact is that Utila is one of the most western islands in the Caribbean, thereby “catching” all the plastic and trash dumped from every island, boat or cruise ship upstream. It ends up on the beaches.
The driftwood and coral bits aren’t the problem, it is all the plastic. I pulled a dozen plastic bags off coral heads or sea fans. Kerry and I found hundreds of flipflops, water bottles, liquid containers of every type, and anything plastic you can imagine. I actually grabbed two flops off a beach to fix my lose fin straps that were cutting my booties. We are a one-use species because of consumer driven marketing and production. It is disgusting and absolutely destroying our environment. I’ll pick up trash as much as the next tree-hugger because you aren’t likely to convince big petroleum or plastic consumers to change their ways; but until we find an efficient and easy way to collect and reuse the plastic waste we make, the world will be cluttered and trashed with plastic. A shame really, because all it takes is commitment and dedication to a belief that the world, particularly our oceans, are NOT mankind’s trash dump. If anyone has a serious and innovative manner for reusing plastic in remote locations on a large scale, I am interesting in hearing and investing in it.
The second problem is more straight forward and obvious. Nearly 50% of the reefs in the oceans have been destroyed by bleaching or other impacts due to interactions with human waste or runoff. Entire reef systems around Pacific islands have decimated due to erosion from deforestation or lack of proper sewage facilities. The pH levels in human waste kill most of the organisms around the reefs, or change the coral itself. This has devastating effects on the health of the reef. Utila has lost all of its apex predators on the reef. There are a handful of nurse sharks like Nick, but there are no “sharky sharks” as my friend Faye would say. No reef sharks or other predators to keep the parrot fish and snapper in check. Those fish graze the algae off the reef, without which, there is less CO2 breakdown in the system, causing further problems. We had the opportunity to dive and talk with some incredible post-grad researchers doing studies of the Utila reefs. They expressed astonishment about the changes in the reef observed over the past 10 years of studies. The practical impact is that the reef as it is today will disappear within our lifetimes, and with it the dive industry on Utila, and then the improved way of life vanishes because there are no more US or Canadian dollars to fund the new power facilities or sewage plants or internet. I know it is hard to think on that scale while you are stuck in traffic trying to get to your kid’s soccer game or riding the train home from work to watch the season finale of Walking Dead. I am finding it very disconcerting, maybe at a relatively old age, that generally the first world middle class tends to be so narrowly focused on our own problems and pressing needs leaving the bigger picture for the fanatics, the environmentalists, dreamers, romantics or the naïve.
I guess I have to thank Utila for opening my eyes to a new reality, another path with purposeful choices. That might be the greatest thing about the island, if you are willing to open your eyes, ears, mind and heart; you will quickly forget why you ever wanted to be just like everyone else in your subdivision, office, church or see on TV; and why you might want to be something completely different slowly grabs hold of your mind. Guess it is time to act on that thought.
Enough soap-box, the sordid tales of Admiral and his siren wenches sailing the pirate waters of the Leeward Islands will now continue on its regularly scheduled channel.
We have boarded the good boat S/V Allergic to Cities and have set sail from Tortola for the surrounding islands and anchorages. We picked up the boat on Monday, and the remaining crew for the first part of our voyage joined us after an adventure getting from Utila to Tortola via Belize, Cancun, Miami and the USVI. It is a story all by itself.
We spent the day provisioning, running errands and finalizing some details before untying on Tuesday for a run across the Sir Francis Drake Channel to Norman Island for some scuba diving with reef sharks on Santa Monica mount. Luckily Jen got a little video of the sharks for us to show you all, I’ll try to upload to Youtube soon. The water clarity is incredible as well.
After scuba, we stormed the Willy-T for some sundowners and predictably ran off all the families, children and respectable yachties. Thank God, who can drink and carouse with all those judgmental stares. There may or may not have been some skinny-dipping/diving from the third deck of the Willy-T floating restaurant and bar.
We are now off to Cooper and Virgin Gorda. I promised the crew some wreck diving, and they get rather mutinous when they don’t get their way. So I need to weigh anchor and move our current home to the dive buoy. Oh, life is terrible, just terrible. But no use complaining. 🙂
