1981 (5) - Paperback Trading Library

Yellow Tree with Chickens.  An art quilt.  12" x 16"

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

When we settled in at Tortola, I was thrilled to find a paperback trading library in Road Town.  For a fee of $5, or a donation of ten paperbacks, a person could become a member of the library.  A fee of 20 cents was charged each time a book was traded.  The library had, maybe, 3000 paperbacks, and the selection was very good.  Over a period of six months, I traded 65 paperbacks at the library, as well as another score or two with friends on other boats. 

I was rather distressed one day when I visited the offices where the library had been housed.  All the books were packed away in boxes!  The library had outgrown its home, had been put up for sale, and was purchased by the Mental Health Society.  I was assured the library would still be open to the public.  About a month later, it reopened in another part of town.  Directions to the location? 

Go to the roundabout on the far side of town, cut through the open market behind it, walk past the first building and turn right, jump the ditch, (watch out for the chickens!), and walk through the open doorway. 

Yellow Tree with Chickens.  Detail.
The yellow chicken is sitting on Snoopy's doghouse.

The only difference I discerned in using the new library was that, once you’d traded your books, you were asked if you’d like to make a donation to the Mental Health Society.  That was a hard one to refuse!

After the move, the library was in a real mess.  Books were stacked everywhere on tables and floor, partly because they didn’t have anyone to shelve them.  I talked to a lady there, and offered to put the paperbacks in order.  (My librarian genes kicking in.)  They’d just gotten new shelving.  I arranged the books alphabetically, by author.  I had the project finished after a couple weeks.  I would have hated to see the place close down because there wasn’t anyone to organize it.

Yellow Tree with Chickens.  Detail.
I wove two fabrics together to make the foliage.

I was at the paperback trading library one day when I met two heavyset women who were cleaning the room. 

They asked me,  “We been wondrin, is you a girl or a boy”?

“Girl,” I replied.

Between giggles, they said, “Well, we couldn’t tell; you ain’t got no titties or nothing”!  (I do so have titties….) 

I left the library and was walking along the path when a man came toward me from the other direction.  He looked me up and down, and then leered with a smile.  (At least someone could still tell I was a girl.)

1981 (4) - Ed Writes a Letter

Homer Bound.  An art quilt.  17" x 23"

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

June 4, 1981

Dear Mom and Dad,

Jeanie left saying she hadn’t written in two weeks, and that I had better get a letter out to you.  Well, since Monday is a holiday here, if this doesn’t get written tonight, and in tomorrow’s mail, it won’t get written at all.

Gloucester Sunset by Winslow Homer
The inspiration for my quilt, Homer Bound.

Things are progressing here.  I finally got all the forms and paperwork filled in to the effect that my work permit was issued, and my BVI visa extended until November.  So I guess I am now totally legal.  One hears horror stories of how nasty and incompetent the local officials are, but in my case, it appeared they were bending over backwards to be helpful.

Of course, the Labor people were somewhat embarrassed when they couldn’t find my file.  Mike had submitted a proposal requesting my work permit.  He got a letter in reply stating that it had been approved.  I made some copies, and went to the Labor office, saying I wanted to fill out the necessary forms.  That’s when they couldn’t find the file.  Come back tomorrow, they said.  I did, and they still hadn’t found it, but they gave me a phone number to call before I came in again.  I had to call twice more before they finally located the file.  So they knew who I was, and from there on in, they were most helpful in seeing that I filled in all the forms and got the necessary approvals in proper order.

The Immigration lady was unbelievable.  I had seen her last week, and she gave me some forms to fill in.  When I returned with them this week, she recognized me and called me to the head of the line, and took the paperwork from me.  Then while I waited in line, she processed them while she was ostensibly serving other people.  When my turn came, everything was ready.  I don’t know why she thought my time was so valuable, but I was certainly amazed.

Homer Bound.  Detail.

Work is going so-so.  Last week we actually ran out of work, so I didn’t go in on Friday.  Anyway, the workload has presumably picked up, and things may be better for a while.  But then last week, what with running to the government, and the hospital for the required medical exams, and the lack of work, I only earned $100 for the week.  Hardly worth the effort.

Yesterday I had a grand altercation with a cow!  There was a small herd grazing along the road by the little dock where I leave the dinghy.  In fact, one cow was grazing at the foot of the dock.  So when I approached on the way home, the cow ran out onto the dock to get out of my way.  Well, this cow soon ran out of dock.  Since the dinghy was tied at the very end, things were at an impasse.  Had I proceeded out onto the dock, I felt the cow would have jumped into the water, i.e., right into the dinghy!  So I parked myself up by the road and waited ten minutes while the cow got up enough courage to come off the dock, and scurry away along the road.  Only in Tortola…

Things are quiet when I get home from work, what with Jeanie not here.  And the day is lengthened by having to fix dinner and tend to the dishes.  But I am surviving.  Aside from finding the stove was out of fuel, and that the curtains in the bedroom have rotted and need to be replaced, the boat seems to be holding together.

Happy Father’s Day!

Ed

1981 (3) - Gainfully Employed

Turtle Bay.  An art quilt.  23" x 25"

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

For the second year in a row, we anticipated leaving the islands and sailing Tropic Moon up to the States.  The window of opportunity, weather-wise, would be May and June.  The month of April passed without us knowing if we’d be making the passage, or if we’d settle in the British Virgin Islands for a year, with Ed working for Mike Masters at Nautool Machine, Ltd.

Though Mike would have preferred a trained machinist, he could see Ed’s potential.  He also needed immediate help in the shop.  After a trial week, both Mike and Ed decided it was a go.  From Ed’s point of view, it was a golden opportunity to learn machining because of the wide range of work Mike did for the boating industry.  And not only would Ed be learning, but getting money for it too!  Ed was paid on a project-by-project basis, rather than receiving a regular salary, and it worked out well for both Ed and Mike. 

That decided, Mike needed approval from the local government to hire Ed.  Mike first had to prove he needed assistance, and that there wasn't a local resident who could do the work Ed would be doing.  Once Mike got the verbal approval from the Labor Department to hire Ed, they started the paperwork to get the work permit.  Our visas had just expired, so Ed and I took a few days to sail to St. Thomas to apply for new visas.

Turtle Bay.  Detail.

While Ed's job at Nautool was in Road Town, we decided to continue living in Maya Cove, about ten miles from town.  Two men on other boats in the anchorage had jobs at a bare boat charter company in Road Town.  Both Tony and Martin had cars, and Ed commuted to work with them.  In a small anchorage like Maya Cove, everyone knew everyone else.  One couple, Ronnie and John, were expecting their first child.  One morning when the fellows were getting ready to head to work, Tony came by in his dinghy to pick up Ed, and then went to Travel to pick up Martin.  John called them over to his boat, and John and Ronnie also climbed into the dinghy.   Ronnie's water had broken during the night.  Martin was driving that day, so he dropped Tony off at the charter company, dropped Ed off at Nautool, and then took John and Ronnie on to the hospital.  They had a baby girl they named Kylie.

Ed was soon busy at Nautool.  One Friday toward the end of April, the Bomba Charger, one of the large ferryboats that ran between Tortola and St. Thomas, lost its propeller shaft.  This was a major emergency, and Mike and Ed worked all Friday night on the project.  Ed didn’t get back to Tropic Moon till 6:30 Saturday morning.  I wasn’t happy he’d worked all night, but I was somewhat mollified to learn that Mike had paid Ed $20/hour for the ten hours.  Ed earned $200 for the night, which was about what he got for a whole week of work!

I was missing my family.  Since we weren’t going to be sailing Tropic Moon to the States, I decided to fly home for the month of June.  My plan was to stay with my sister in Virginia, and see both my parents, and Ed’s parents, while I was stateside.

1981 (2) - Candide

Bees Waxing Eloquent.
I found a photo of an island bus and altered it in Photoshop.

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

We were anchored near several French boats in the Iles des Saintes.  One afternoon, after William and Katherine had left, some people from the yacht, Candide, came by in their dinghy with fish they'd just caught.  Despite my limited French, and their limited English, we understood we were welcome to some of the fish, as they had extra.  One of the men reached into his bucket and handed a fish up to me, where I was standing on deck.  I was a little squeamish about taking it, but thought - what the hell, it's just a fish.  I hadn't realized it was still alive….  When I took the fish in my hand and it began to wriggle, I let out a yelp and tossed it into the air.  The man leaned backwards and made a really neat catch but, in doing so, he fell out of the dinghy!  I was horribly embarrassed and tried to apologize, while their toddler set up quite a wail.  Ed handed down our bucket.  They placed a couple fish in it, and passed it back to us. 

Ed had the messy job of gutting and scaling the fish.  While the fish were tasty, we wondered if it had been worth all the trouble.  (We lived on a boat for fourteen years, and didn’t do any fishing ourselves….)  The next day I baked banana bread, and made an extra loaf to take over to Candide.  I learned they were on their way to Florida, via the Bahamas.

English Harbor, Antigua.  Internet Photo

On our way north, we saw the red-hulled Candide again in English Harbour, Antigua, when the crew motored past Tropic Moon in their dinghy.  We recognized each other, smiled and waved.  I was rather surprised when they showed up later that day with more fresh fish!  We had an invitation for dinner, so I explained we couldn't use the fish that night.  (There was no refrigeration or icebox on Tropic Moon.)  They asked if we had friends who might want them.  It was obvious these people had speared extra fish to bring over to us, so we hated to say no.  We decided to bring the fish along to our friends, who were house sitting, and had the use of a refrigerator.  Ed worked an hour cleaning the three fish, which he carried over in a bucket of seawater. 

We presented this offering to our hosts.

David said, "We hate fish."

Jill added, "But the cat will love them!" 

We hoped, after all Ed's work, that the cat enjoyed his meal.

1981 (1) - Iles des Saintes Encore

Acrylic Painting, 16" x 20",  Street Scene, in the Iles des Saintes.

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

After the holidays, we continued living in Maya Cove.  Staying in one place for a while meant more boat work, and Ed decided to have a new stainless steel bow pulpit made for Tropic Moon.  Ed went to Mike Masters, at Nautool Machine, Ltd.  Mike had fashioned our new propeller shaft, as well as constructing the support structure for Ulysses, our wind vane.  Ed lent a hand with the bow pulpit; he’d long had an interest in learning machining and welding.  Ed offered to work full-time for Mike, like for a year.  Mike turned Ed down because he wanted to hire a master machinist.  Mike flew up to Canada to interview some people.  Ed was disappointed but, in any case, we needed to make another run south.

The photo that provided inspiration for the painting.
I substituted flowers for the laundry on the fence.

In March 1980, when we were cruising down island, we met William and Katherine Slater.  They were vacationing at the Hotel Bois Joli in the Iles des Saintes.  (Perhaps you remember my writing of "quiche, Vivaldi and stars"?)  We had kept in touch with the Slaters, and were aware that they were returning to the Hotel Bois Joli for spring break this March.  In their last two letters, they’d mentioned they’d like to see us again.  We decided to make the passage down to the Saintes to rendezvous with them. 

View of the town.  Note small airport runway in the right of the picture.

We planned to sail direct from Tortola to the Saintes, and anticipated a long trip of about four days, since a good part of the passage would be beating to windward.  It was about 225 seagull miles in distance.  I guess you could say we lucked out (at least, in my opinion!), because we left Tortola early morning in a calm.  We decided to motor due east toward St. Maarten, to get as much easting as possible out of the way before the wind returned. 

Fourteen hours later ... when we were only two hours shy of St. Maarten, where we had decided to put in for the night rather than continue motoring, the wind finally picked up.  We raised the sails, fell off to starboard to fill them, and headed S-SE along the island chain, directly toward the Saintes.  We were becalmed again in the lee of Guadeloupe (we always got becalmed in the lee of that island), and spent a good part of our second night motoring.  We arrived in the Saintes, which are just south of Guadeloupe, at 9:00 a.m., only 50 hours and 250 miles after leaving Tortola.  As a matter of fact, the only tacking we did on the passage was in our approach to the Saintes. 

A poster I made from a photo taken from
the veranda at the Hotel Bois Joli.

We had anticipated having a day to settle in, and clean up the boat before William and Katherine arrived.  As we were dropping our anchor, the small hotel ferry passed us on its way to town - with them aboard.  All four of us waved and called out greetings.  I had horrid misgivings that we'd arrived at the end of their vacation, instead of the beginning, and imagined we'd have to wait till afternoon for them to return to the hotel to find out. But in less than an hour I heard a pounding on our hull and looked down from the deck to see William afloat below.  He came aboard.  We learned they'd just arrived that morning - and would stay for ten days.  William was so excited to see us that once they had finished picking up food in town for a picnic lunch, he left Katherine trailing behind, and hurried on foot over the hills back to the hotel.  He quickly changed, and swam out to the boat.  Katherine showed up about a half hour later. 

Street Scene.  Detail.

Our ten days together passed quickly.  Someone (usually William) went into town each day to buy food for lunch.  Picnic lunches on the beach included French bread, pate, tomatoes and bananas.  We all went into town on Mardi Gras Day to watch the island’s small parade.  Twice they came to Tropic Moon for dinner.  The first time, I fixed chicken cacciatore on macaroni, a salad, French bread, and an apple pie.  The second time I cooked French onion soup and eggplant quiche, with a salad, and banana bread for dessert.  Other nights, we enjoyed dinners with them at the hotel.  It was fun to share their vacation with them - sailing one of the hotel's sunfish around the bay, swimming, and studiously working on our tans.  William called it a fantasy time.  Both he and Katherine hated heading back to their university teaching jobs, and the winter weather around Toronto.

1980 (32) - Christmas in the Cove

Snoopy's got all the presents wrapped!

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE. 

We were happy to be heading back to Maya Cove for the holiday season.  Perhaps because boat people are far from family, and what used to be called home, everyone joined together in their celebrating.  We shared parties, dinners, and gallons of rum punch.

Christmas Eve, Dana and Evelyn, who lived in a house overlooking the anchorage, invited the Cove people up to their home for a party.  Their house was beautiful – and what a view!  The islands lining the Sir Francis Drake Channel stretched in both directions, surrounded by miles of unbroken sea.  The road up the hill to their house was so steep; Dana provided taxi service – in his Land Rover, with 4-wheel drive, in first gear.  I still held my breath! 

About 25 people were at the party.  Dana and Evelyn served drinks, and everyone else brought food.  Gerry, on Travel, and I, each made two quiches so there would be some for everyone.  There were other main dishes, salads, and deserts.  It was a lively, friendly evening.  When we got together with boat people, we seemed to share a sense of fellowship I never experienced at any land-based cocktail party.

Tropic Moon's Christmas Tree

I had decided we should have a Christmas tree on Tropic Moon, and crocheted one out of green yarn.  It stands about two feet tall.  I decorated it with strings of seed beads, and hung small shells and other beads.  I used techniques I’d learned at a sculpture crochet workshop I’d taken in Ann Arbor.

Christmas week involved lots of visiting back and forth among the boats.  A couple we’d met at the party – Ray and Mary Jo on Runaway – came by one day.  They had two kingfish they’d just bought from a fisherman, and invited us for dinner.  They marinated the fillets, wrapped them in foil with sautéed onion and garlic, and then cooked them on their grill.  Yum!

Our Christmas tree on the cockpit table.  Ulysses is at the stern.

On New Year’s Day, Runaway and another sailboat, Catspaw, rafted their boats together, and held an “Open Boat.”  Gail and Walt on Catspaw served Hot Rum Toddies, and Runaway provided colder drinks.  We munched on Christmas pastries and Mary Jo’s home baked bread.  When evening came, the cocktail party types headed home.  Ed helped Ray set up the aerial for his color TV.  Those of us left on the boats settled in for some serious football watching, as St. Thomas was broadcasting the Rose Bowl. 

Everyone quickly learned I’d gone to grad school at University of Michigan.  I had the gang cheering for the Wolverines - all except for one fellow named Chuck who had attended college somewhere in the state of Washington.  Chuck got very quiet during the second half of the game.  During the proceedings, Gail emerged from her galley with a large pot of steaming chili and another pot of cooked macaroni.  Mary Jo came up with loaf after loaf of delicious beer bread, the good food sustaining us through the excitement of the game.  Having Michigan finally win the Rose Bowl was, for me, the perfect ending to a special holiday season.

Kermit and Friends

1980 (31) - Kathy and Bill

Kathy took this photo from the dinghy,
as Ed was taking our friends back to shore.

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

Our haul out at the beginning of December was utterly pleasant compared with the one in June, since Ed was able to work on the boat this time.  We found another hole in the hull – we sanded through solid rust.  A welder put in a new plate of steel.  Our antifouling paint had failed not long after our last haul out, so we put on two coasts of antifouling this time.  We were launched again after only one week.  We sailed directly to Caneel Bay on St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands.

Kathy and Bill arrived the next day.  Good friends from Ann Arbor, Michigan, they’d decided to meet up with us in the islands.  For some reason (go figure…), they opted to stay at a luxurious resort, rather than rough it on Tropic Moon.  Their room at the Caneel Bay Resort overlooked the bay where we anchored.  They treated us to dinner one night at the hotel’s restaurant.  It felt like we’d only been apart for a couple weeks, rather than a couple years, as we quickly got reacquainted.  For the four of us to get in step for the week together, Kathy and Bill slowed down the pace of their lifestyle, and we speeded up ours.

Caneel Bay, St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands.  Internet photo.

We swam, and snorkeled, and one day we hiked into the town of Cruz Bay.  We took Kathy and Bill on two sails.  The first was to Leinster Bay, where we hiked to the Annaberg Sugar Mill.  The second sail was to Great St. James Island, at the east end of St. Thomas, with a snorkeling stop at Christmas Cove.  While they enjoyed the sailing, Bill preferred to be in the water.  There was some great snorkeling in the little bays between Caneel and Hawksnest Bay. 

Caneel Bay Sunset

We were returning from our second day sail, and were off Caneel Bay, when the Coast Guard ship hailed us.  We were approached by a launch with three crew.  As they came alongside, one man said, “Prepare to receive a boarding party.”  The Coast Guard can only cite you for violations while you’re “operating a vessel,” which was why they boarded us while we were underway. 

Two men climbed on Tropic Moon.  It was mostly an inspection, though I'm sure they had their eye out for drugs.  While we didn’t get written citations, we did get written warnings.  The two charges cited were that our horn wasn’t operable, and that we didn’t have a sticker (10” x 12”) declaring that it was a $5000 fine to dump oil overboard.  One man gave us an oil sticker to post.

Annaberg Sugar Mill.  Postcard.

Right after we were boarded, it started to rain.  Ed and one guy were below, leaving the other guard on deck with Bill, Kathy and me.  Bill was at the wheel, but the wind was fluky, and he was having problems.  I told the Coast Guard fellow we’d been planning on going in to the bay to anchor.  He gave his permission, so I started the engine and we motored in. 

I decided to try anchoring Tropic Moon myself, since I’d watched Ed do it hundreds of times.  I left Bill at the wheel, while I went forward to take down the genoa and the mainsail.  Then I had Bill motor to what looked like a good spot.  I signaled him to idle in neutral, with the bow pointing into the wind, and I dumped the anchor overboard and fed out the chain and rope.  The next step was for Bill to put the engine in reverse, to see if the anchor was holding.  The whole operation went very smoothly.  Kathy was duly impressed!  It was the first time I’d ever taken down the sails, or anchored the boat, and one of the first times I’d done something without Ed’s supervision.

Caneel Bay Beach Lounge.  Internet photo.

After Bill and Kathy headed back to winter in Michigan, we returned to the British Virgin Islands.  We had a great sail from Caneel Bay back to Road Town.  We had all sails up, including the genny.  We hit 10 knots a few times, but were mostly doing 8-9 knots – really flying!  (Our normal speed was 5-6 knots.)  What a difference a clean bottom makes….  We covered the 23 miles in a little over three hours. 

1980 (30) - St. Barths

Dunescape.  An art quilt.  43" x 53"

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

An overnight sail from Antigua took us north to the island of St. Barths.  So many cruising people we met praised St. Barths to the sky.  Since we’d found it pleasant during a previous three-day visit, we decided to spend a few more days there.  Whatever mystique this small French island held for others continued to elude us.  But then, if everyone had the same favorite island, there would be a rather lopsided distribution of boats through the Caribbean.  I’ve seen more than one puzzled expression when I list Antigua as my favorite.

St. Barths.  Postcard.  

One morning we rowed in to Gustavia, St. Barths only town.  In about an hour, we’d seen all there was to see in the shops.  Ed then proposed we hike across the island.  While that idea would normally intimidate me, I’d seen, on the chart, that St. Barths was very narrow in the middle (only 1-1/2 miles across).  The hills didn’t look too imposing, so we headed up one of the roads leaving town.  The winding road wove back and forth up the hill, so cars wouldn’t have too steep a climb.  While we meandered our way upward, we would glance back to see the picturesque Gustavia, with its red-roofed buildings, forming three sides of the rectangular harbor basin. 

Once in the hills, we began watching for the miniature airport we’d seen pictured on one of my postcards.  We knew we were getting close when a small plane literally flew through the trees ahead of us.  When we came to the opening, we were at the top of a steep hill.  We gazed down to see a short runway running from the bottom of the hill, to the sea beyond.  While standing there, we heard a “whoosh” behind us and turned to see a small plane climbing the hill.  We ducked as it went overhead.  It swept down the hill, touched down on the runway and came to a stop, just yards before it would have plopped into the sea.  We saw several landings, mostly thanks to one two-seater that was doing practice touchdowns.  And I ducked every single time, as the planes seemed to top the hill at such a low altitude.

Low-flying aircraft.  Internet photo

Since I liked to have incentive to go along with my exercise, and I’d read in our cruising book that there were restaurants ringing the bay below us, I told Ed I’d continue on in exchange for a lunch out.  We walked down the hill (with nervous glances over my shoulder for low-flying craft).  We continued along a road with the runway on one side, and fields, and an above-ground cemetery on the other side.  We returned to sea level at Baie St. Jean.  We left the road to walk on the beach for its entire length, checking out all the restaurants and reading the posted menus.  We settled on one called the “Beach Club” and enjoyed delicious fish dinners.  After the exercise, and the filling lunch, I wanted to be instantaneously transported back to the boat and my bunk for a nap.  Unfortunately, the only choice was to hike back.  Since we had less cause to dawdle, we were relaxing on Tropic Moon by mid-afternoon.

Dunescape.  Detail.  I used yarns, lace, and feathers in this quilt.

Our four days in St. Barths were followed by a week in St. Maarten, where we visited with Sunnie.  Adhering to our time schedule (yes, we actually had one), we headed “home” to the British Virgin Islands.  An overnight sail returned us to Tortola in time for our haul out at Nanny Cay Boatyard on December 1^st.

1980 (29) - Nevis to Antigua

Scrimshaw pendant by Jill White.  Just over one inch tall.

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

In daylight we found ourselves anchored well out from the town of Charlestown, but as we only intended to stay long enough to repair our gear and rest up, we didn't bother moving in closer to shore.  We had stopped at Nevis the previous year when we had our problems on the passage from St. Maarten to Antigua.  I told Ed, since fate kept dropping me off at Nevis, sometime I really ought to go ashore and see the island.  (I never did.)  While Ed did repairs, I spent the first day cleaning up the boat, drying out clothes, and cooking.  I had trouble eating on the trip because of the heavy motion; I had subsisted on chocolate cookies.  Not having had a regular meal in three days, I was half-starved.  I made a mushroom quiche for lunch, chicken cacciatore for dinner, and snacked on everything in sight the rest of the day.

I took to studying the chart, and measured the distance between our anchorage on Nevis, and English Harbour on Antigua.  It was 50 seagull miles (that's in, "as the seagull flies," since I doubted they had crows in the Caribbean).  We would be continuing on a windward beat.  I'd worked out a formula for determining how many miles Tropic Moon would have to sail to cover a certain number of seagull miles, when traveling to windward.  I took the number of sea gull miles, in this case 50, and multiplied it by 2-1/2, which gave me 125 Tropic Moon miles.  Dividing 125 miles by our average 5 miles/hour, that would give us a sailing time of 25 hours from Nevis to Antigua. 

I presented my figures to the captain, who, in truth, did scoff a bit, but who agreed to an overnight sail, with a departure time of 2:00 p.m. the next day.  We had the anchor up, and were leaving the harbor on Nevis at 2:30 p.m.  We anchored the following afternoon in English Harbour at 3:30 p.m., 25 hours later.  Actually, I was a little surprised myself that it worked out that well.  We covered 134 miles, motoring for the last few hours through the strong currents off Antigua's southern coast.  Our "two day" trip from Tortola to Antigua ended up being four days and three nights of sailing, with a two-day stop at Nevis, and a distance covered of almost 400 miles.

The people on Aspen Leaf (back in Maya Cove), had asked us to keep an eye out for friends of theirs, on a boat called Different Drummer.  Bruce and Roxie weren’t sure where we’d see them, but thought it was about the time when Different Drummer would be moving from St. Maarten, where they spent the summer, to Antigua, where they were planning on spending the winter.  We entered English Harbour about a half hour behind a smaller sailboat we’d noticed traveling ahead of us.  When we anchored in the outer bay to await the Customs and Immigration Officers, we saw that the little boat was Different Drummer.  They also had their yellow quarantine flag raised to request clearance.  As the Customs dinghy wasn’t operating, the Customs officers were hitching around the harbor.  When they were finished on Different Drummer, David brought them over to Tropic Moon.  I introduced myself, mentioned the Aspen Leaf people, and invited them over for drinks the next night.

David and Jill White were from England.  They’d sailed Different Drummer, which was only 28 feet long, across the Atlantic.  They hoped to stay in the Caribbean, and were partially supporting themselves with Jill’s scrimshaw work.  Jill had studied the craft with a Portuguese artist they’d met when passing through the Azores.  Scrimshaw is fine etching done on the ivory of whales’ teeth.  It’s an old and beautiful craft that reached its peak during the 18^th and 19^th centuries at the hands of the men who crewed and worked America’s whaling ships.  David cut the cross sectional slices from the large teeth and polished them.  Jill carved extremely detailed designs with a very fine knife, and colored in the pictures with inks.  I purchased a pretty pendant showing one of the native fishing sloops popular in the islands.  (See photo above.)

We spent a week in English Harbour, visiting with people, and watching the ongoing restoration of Nelson’s Dockyard.  One day we took the bus into St. John to do some shopping.  We devoted a couple days to sanding and varnishing what seems to be (when we’re working on it), an endless amount of teak woodwork.  That project finished, it was time to head north again.

1980 (28) - Tortola to Nevis

Two Toucans.  An art quilt.  The bodies are from
a black velvet bolero jacket.  The flowers are
cut from thrift store blouses.

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

We had decided to get the rougher upwind part of our trip out of the way first, by sailing directly from Tortola to Antigua.  That would leave us with more pleasant reaches or downwind sails when heading back north to St. Barths, St. Maarten and then west to Tortola.  Ulysses really proved his worth on the upwind part of the trip.  We spent almost no time at the wheel.  That left us with not much to do on our watches except keeping a lookout for other ships.  I would find myself talking to Ulysses, urging him to keep up the good work.  I much preferred sitting around slightly bored, rather than putting out the effort of steering the boat through the heavy seas.

Two Toucans.  Detail.

Leaving Tortola, we beat upwind for two days and nights.  On the third day figured we were about 50 miles off Nevis, and would put in there that night.  During the afternoon, on one of my watches, the halyard on the mizzen sail broke and the top of the sail came loose.  Ed came up on deck and managed to get the sail down.  He tried to lower the wire halyard too, but it got caught on something.  While Ed was working on the end of the mizzen boom, leaning out over the stern, he looked down into the water and noticed we had company.  A large fish was traveling along in the vortex formed behind our stern.  The sleek fish, about 7-8 feet long, looked green through the water.  Ed was peering down at the fish and joked, "Dinner!"  I told Ed, "Don't fall off; he's probably looking at you and thinking the same thing."  The fish stayed with us for several hours. 

Ed went back to work on the mizzen.  He rigged a temporary topping lift so he could use the topping lift rope as a temporary halyard for the mizzen sail.  He got the mizzen up again.  With the extra wires and ropes hanging from it, and with a sloppy double reef in the mainsail because of the strong winds, we looked a rather shabby affair.

Two Toucans.  Detail.

After sixty hours of sailing, we started the engine to motorsail to Nevis.  Ed was speeding up the engine; I leaned over the stern to make sure water was coming out of the exhaust pipe.  Instead, I saw billowing black smoke.  I made some incoherent noises, which Ed correctly interpreted to mean, "throttle down."  Then he went below to look for the problem.  A hose on the cooling system had popped off, and the bilge was filling with water.  Ed shut down the engine, so the pipe would cool, and he could reattach the hose.  By then we had taken down our sails, so we had no forward motion, and the sun was dropping in the sky. 

We finally restarted the engine and finished motoring to Nevis, but it was after dark when we arrived.  We found ourselves approaching a harbor we didn't know well, and approaching it from an unfamiliar direction.  I dug out our spot light - which we'd never had cause to use.  I had it plugged in and ready when we came closer in to shore.  We had our depth sounder on, and were constantly checking it to insure we were staying in sufficiently deep waters.  We headed for the lights of Charlestown.  When the depth sounder read 25 feet and, using the spotlight, we were able to make out a couple other boats, we dropped our anchor.  We left our stern light on overnight, just in case there were other late night arrivals.

1980 (27) - Party Time

All That Jazz.  A small art quilt.

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

While we were in Maya Cove at the end of October, preparing for our down-island trip, a party was being planned for November 1^st – the night before we were scheduled to leave.  Roger (from Born Free) was organizing a dinner that was intended as a Bon Voyage party for Ben and Janet, on Amiga, and Bruce and Roxie, on Aspen Leaf.  Both couples were leaving their boats in Maya Cove, and flying to the States for the winter months.  Since we happened to be leaving for Antigua the next morning, we got included in the goodbyes.  To stretch one party a little further, it also became a “welcome home” for Evelyn and Dana.  Their boat, Andante, was anchored in Maya Cove, but they lived in a beautiful home high on the hillside overlooking the harbor.  They had just returned (by plane) from a month visiting boat friends on the island of Fiji in the western Pacific.

During the afternoon, I made my usual passage food – high-energy chocolate cookies.  The recipe included cocoa powder, peanut butter, oats, raisins, nuts, and sugar.  I subsisted on these cookies during rough passages.  While Ed was spooning them on waxed paper, I started in on some gingerbread.  I decided to bake the gingerbread in paper cupcake cups, for individual servings.  The cookies hadn’t smelled while cooking, but the gingerbread in the oven really put out quite an aroma! 

People were running around in their dinghies, planning for the evening’s party.  The folks from Aspen Leaf had been on Amiga – which was anchored right behind us.  Bruce and Roxie came by to tell me I was driving Janet crazy with the smell of gingerbread.  The cupcakes had just come out of the oven, so I offered them some.  Roxie said no, because of her diet, and Bruce said no, probably out of politeness.  I think he was sorry later when he saw me handing out cupcakes.  I rowed our dinghy to take two cupcakes to Amiga for Janet and Ben.  Two more went to George and Ruth on Easterly, and another couple cupcakes for Jerry and Martin on Travel.  It was fun to share my baking and see people enjoy it.

The Virgin Queen is still going strong!  Internet photo.

The party that night was held at the Virgin Queen in Road Town.  About twenty people were at the dinner; we met several people for the first time.  We were introduced to Fritz Seyfarth, who sailed single-handed.  He wrote sailing articles for magazines, and had published a book called Tales of the Caribbean.  Ben and Janet had told us about him.  They claimed he lived with a black cloud over his head, like a cartoon character.  Fritz was certainly the only person we’d met who’d been run down by a freighter and was still around to talk about it!

I found the book on amazon...

Fritz had been sailing from Florida to the Virgin Islands, and was off the Bahamas.  It was daylight, and he was down below fixing his breakfast when a freighter ran into him.  He knew they saw him, because someone on the stern was looking down as the ship went past.  They may not have known they hit him; in any case, they didn’t stop.  Fritz put out a mayday call, but didn’t think anyone heard him.  He was fortunate some people who knew him picked up his call in St. Thomas.  They sent the Coast Guard out looking for him.  His boat, Tumbleweed, had been badly damaged.  When a squall came through, his mast feel.  He lost the antenna to his radio, and wasn’t able to send out any more messages for help.  His wooden hull had been damaged.  He spent the next three days pumping out the boat, trying to keep it afloat.  He was close to abandoning Tumbleweed, and taking to his dinghy, when the Coast Guard found him.  They towed the boat down to St. Thomas.  Fritz still has Tumbleweed.  He’s had it hauled, and done lots of work on it, but it still leaks so much, it frequently needs pumping to stay afloat.

People at the dinner asked when we were leaving for Antigua.  I said, six a.m., unless we’re too hung over to go!  I was up at six the next morning, but it was raining, and there wasn’t any wind, so I just crawled back into bed.  We did leave at 7:30 a.m., and Jerry on Travel, Fritz on Tumbleweed, and Roger from Born Free, were all on deck to wave us off.

1980 (26) - Ulysses

The metal structure to hold Ulysses

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

During the summer months, Ed had put his time to good use designing and building a self-steering system for the boat.  He had priced the type he was interested in at $3000, and that's when he decided to make his own.  He got together with Mike Masters, the machinist who had made our new propeller shaft.  They built and welded together the steel framework that bolted on to the stern.  Mike cut the gears Ed had designed, and Ed made a wind vane from blue sailcloth, for the top of the apparatus, as well as building a small rudder that hung down into the water behind our main rudder.  I christened the contraption Ulysses, named after the Greek fellow who had lived the Odyssey in Homer's epic work.  My dictionary defined odyssey as:  "a long wandering usually marked by many changes of fortune."  I thought that sounded rather appropriate.... 

Ulysses, our wind vane, hard at work.  The other contraption was
our Seagull dinghy engine.  You can just see a dolphin in the water.

Ulysses turned out to be a gem when we were beating to windward, and something of a help when we were on a reach, or sailing downwind.  To use the self-steering, we'd adjust Tropic Moon's sails, tie off the wheel, then tighten a nut on Ulysses, and he'd take over.  His small "sail" pointed into the wind, and moved with each wind change, changing the angle of the small rudder.  That was enough to change Tropic Moon's course; the sails would refill when they started to luff.  Ulysses was better than a third crew member.  We didn't have to feed him, and he made very little noise (just a little squeaking now and then).

We were tied to a dock (Newport, RI).  Ulysses was pointed off to the side, into the wind.

With the end of Hurricane Season, we started thinking about doing some more-active cruising, and decided to spend the month of November traveling down island.  We were in the mood for a change of scene, and longer sails than you could find in the Virgins Islands.  Plus, we wanted to give Ulysses a good sea trial. 

My last shot featuring Ulysses.  Taken in Gibraltar, many years later.

1980 (25) - Maya Cove

Tropic Moon anchored in Maya Cove, Tortola, British Virgin Islands

To go to the beginning of this book, Tropic Moon: Memories, click HERE.

We sailed back to the British Virgins and settled in at a gorgeous anchorage on Tortola called Maya Cove.  What we found there was a “boat suburbia."  About a dozen cruising boats were there, more or less permanently, and we were welcomed into a friendly community.  It reminded me of the suburbs because two of the men had jobs in Road Town, and commuted together to work, as well as dropping off three of the "boat kids" at their school.  The women kept the "cars" (dinghies), and watched for their husbands at lunchtime and at night so they could go to the dock to pick them up. 

Maya Cove was surrounded by land on three sides, with a very long reef forming the fourth side.  Entering the Cove at one end of the reef, we tucked ourselves in at the other end, near to where the reef met the land. When the wind blew from either the north or east, as it usually did, we'd be behind all the other boats.  If the wind blew from the southwest, all the boats would swing on anchor, and we'd be at the head of the pack.  Sitting in the cockpit, we could either look at the other boats, or look out across the reef to where we had a view of the Sir Francis Drake Channel and the islands lining the far side.  Our view included the end of Virgin Gorda, Round Rock, Ginger Island, Cooper Island, Salt Island, Dead Man's Chest, Peter Island, a wee bit of Norman Island, and Flanagan Island.  Even the names of the islands were picturesque! 

View across the Sir Francis Drake Channel, British Virgin Islands

Cruising has a lot to do with boats and sailing and seeing different places, but it’s also about the people - brief acquaintanceship, getting together for a drink and swapping cruising tales; really hitting it off with someone and spending what time you have together, knowing you probably won't meet again; friendships that are formed in a short time but grow with other encounters and develop into lasting relationships.  Several other sailboats were calling Maya Cove "home," and we made lots of new friends. 

Besides seeing Jerry and Martin on Travel, we got acquainted with Born Free’s crew – Roger, Norma, and their 14-year-old daughter, Diana.  Roger was an artist and had set up business in the British Virgin Islands, selling his paintings to charterers and other tourists.  Among the other residents of Maya Cove were George and Ruth on Easterly.  They were the old timers in the harbor, probably well into their sixties.  They were from Maine, and had been living in the Caribbean for ten years.  Whereas we spent a couple months at an island, if George and Ruth liked a place, they stayed for a couple years.  They still did quite a bit of sailing, especially when one or more of their ten grandchildren decided to pay them a visit.

Maya Cove - Internet Photo

We invited another couple, Ben and Janet, from Amiga, over for drinks one night.  Ben was excited to learn he and Ed were both Dartmouth College alumni.  He proceeded to name every other Dartmouth alumnus he’d met in the islands.  It turned out to be quite a few!  Ben had graduated fifteen years ahead of Ed.  He and Janet had been cruising for about seven years.  They were getting tired of the lifestyle, and had left Amiga and flew home the previous winter.  They decided they weren’t ready to go “cold turkey,” and just move back to the States.  They were dividing their time between land and sea.  Ben and Janet were in the process of getting ready to leave Amiga again for the winter, for six months of visiting and winter skiing.