Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
- Mark Twain
The sea hates a coward.
- Eugene O’Neill
A work associate, Owen Smith, in the consulting firm I worked for at the time, owned a 38 foot sailing boat that he kept in a marina in the Bahamas. Irene and I were invited to join with him and his wife Linda and daughter X on a two week Caribbean cruise. Up to this point in time my only sailing experience was on a small sunfish that I kept at the Water Rat club near Ash Bridges Bay in the Toronto harbour.
Sailing with friends in the Caribbean seemed like an ideal way to spend a few weeks and we accepted his invitation and flew down to Grand Bahama Island and boarded the boat. Here is a picture of Owen's boat. It had a roomy rear cockpit with a large steering wheel. The interior came equipped with a galley, dinning area and sleeping accommodation for six people.
 |
| Our home for two weeks. |
The next day we loaded our sailboat with provisions and sailed out under a sunny sky. Owen informed me that we were experiencing a 30 knot wind and I observed that it was raising 5 foot waves that the boat easily handled. Under Owen's guidance I soon acquired the basic skills to steer the boat and handle the sails. Flying fish and dolphins kept us company so the beginning of the trip was quite exciting. A major drawback for me was that when I went down below the rolling of the boat made me feel quite nauseated and I quickly went up on deck again and immediately felt better (For the rest of the trip I stayed on deck when we were sailing and only descended into the galley when we anchored). Small islands dotted the horizon and as it was approaching lunchtime we headed for one and entered a beautiful bay and anchored for a swim in the calm and clear waters followed by a light lunch.
Then we set sail for the island of Bimini
.
Here are some pictures of Happy Us in the boat and on the Beach
On the way to Bimini the sun was still shining brightly but the waves were getting much higher and when we finally sailed into the Bimini harbor I asked why it was so packed with boats when we saw virtually none on the ocean. The response from a cluster of fellow sailors was " Haven't you noticed how rough the seas are out there?" It was my first day out, so what did I know? Owen who had joined racing teams from North America to England and was unperturbed. In any case the brief stay in Bimini was idyllic aside from the flea bites on the beach that left us itching for several days.
During the evening two phone calls were received on our boat from two larger boats seeking help to find a pilot to guide them into the harbor. (A pilot seemed to be someone prepared, day or night, to take out on the ocean a small open boat with an outboard motor similar to the one we kept at our cottage). One call for help was from a 60 foot sailboat and the other from a very large ocean going yacht both arriving from Miami. The next day to thank us we were invited on board. We chose to visit the yacht. It was huge, with estate rooms, a wide spiral staircase leading down to a large living room, a helicopter pad complete with a helicopter on the back of the rear deck and a complete staff of sailors, cooks and kitchen staff. The hostess who greeted us as had taken this boat belonging to her family out of a marina in Florida. She looked very young, my guess was about sixteen, was formally dressed in a long gown and obviously reeking of money. Her younger brother and grandmother were accompanying her. Name dropping by her included Henry Kissinger and someone from the Ford family.You had the feeling that talking with us was just a friendly gesture to mingle with the lower class.
After leaving Bimini a few days were spent traveling on a calm, hot and windless glassy sea. Breeze-less we often had to turn on the engine to move the boat. Peaceful at first but then boring. and hot. Finally it was time to head back in the direction of the Grand Bahama island to take our flight back to Canada. The distance was about 105 km. The winds were up and the waves were getting higher but we had become accustomed to that and we were being entertained by the flying fish and playful dolphins. The flying fish are quite remarkable leaping from the crest of one wave to another and often flying over the boat.
Owen's daughter suddenly received on the wireless an urgent warning for all ships to immediately leave the ocean for a safe harbor because we were about to find ourselves in the middle of a hurricane. We were half way between Bimini and Bahama Island so what were we to do? The hurricane would hit long before we reached any safe harbour. We took down the sails and lowered the keel as the sunny skies darkened as though at 3PM night was arriving. Owen had experienced rough sailing before so he had a sense for what had to be done without delay. He and I clipped on our harnesses to the helms railing and the women ordered to go below and the hatches closed. A boat is not a place for a democracy. One person is in charge. I sometimes found this hard to accept and there were occasions when his decisions weren't the best, but that is the way it had to be.
Howling winds soon raised mountainous waves in no definable pattern. We later learned that the winds included blasts of up to 100 knots ( 185 kph) and it was clear that these waves towered high above the boat's 45 foot mast. You may have heard the reports about Hurricane Ivan in the Caribbean in 2005 when winds like this produced swells close to 100 feet high.
Steering and controlling the boat then became a process of plunging down in the troughs and holding the boat steady facing the rising hills in front rather than letting the boat flounder and possibly being rolled over in the troughs. The boat seemed so small surrounded by these seemingly angry and towering waves. We repetitively uttered four letter words and Holly Jeez!! as we confronted the latest contortion of these mountains breaking over us. Up and down the hills we traveled in this way in a driving rain with every so often a wave slapping the boat and Owen and I disappearing under a flood of water until this sturdy boat popped up again like a cork. Was I frightened? No, because all my attention was focused on fighting the storm and it appeared that this sturdy boat wasn't breaking up. There was no time for panic.
As for Irene and Linda, they hung on for dear life in their bunks, and later said they willed themselves into a coma. The wind dictated our direction and we were averaging about 12 kph without sales and with the wind on our back. X was downstairs trying to reach someone on our radio.Finally after several hours she reached a shore weather station who gave us our position and suggested that since we weren't taking on any water we had no choice but to ride the storm out. We would surely break up on the rocks if we attempted to approach the shoreline. The person at the weather station also added that they were about to go out in a tugboat in the storm to get a line on a tanker in distress and would try to stay in touch with us as well. About half an hour later he phoned and said his tugboat was in distress, its interior a wreck and they were taking on water. He was calling in for help. In the meantime the storm raged on and our battle continued.
Finally it was nearing midnight and after nine hours of battling without a letup we were exhausted. A large tanker unloading platform loomed ahead. It was used to unload large ships anchored about a mile or so offshore with pipe lines leading to tanks on the shore. In this storm there were of course no ships but the platform was there and we figured if we could get in a position downwind from it we could turn on our boat's engine and point ourselves toward the harbor. The entrance was narrow, about 100 feet wide, with on either side high man-made rocky cliffs to shelter the inner harbor from the winds. With the high winds and the waves crashing against the rocky shoreline any attempt to enter the narrows would involve avoiding the cliffs on either side and a surfing exercise. Owen was patient and we spent at least an hour in the storm trying to position the boat in the right direction to surf through the narrows. Finally he said "lets go!" and off we went buried in the surf and once through with a sigh shouted "we've made it!" but just then through the surf we saw rocks ahead and a second move to the right was maneuvered just in time and we found ourselves in a sheltered lagoon with the winds above the rocks shaking the mast as the boat glided up to a wharf and we tied up. Not a word was spoken and no one appeared from down below for the better part of an hour. As agnostics no thanks were offered to the Gods. Finally we drifted off to our bunks and slept soundly until mid morning.
As we sat the next morning with our coffee the tugboat captain arrived just to tell us of his night in the storm and to share surviving. He told us of the wreckage in his boat with the fridge and stove breaking loose and the mess throughout the cabin.
The storm has dissipated and Owen decided we had to sail up to our marina about twenty miles up the coast to end the voyage. The waves were still high and Irene and Linda wanted no more of the sea and called for a cab to join us there when we arrived.
Looking back on it we were fortunate to have taken this voyage with Owen, a seasoned and disciplined sailor (and RAF pilot) who never lost his cool throughout this saga.
When I read about people who dream about sailing around the world in a small boat I quietly say to myself "good luck".
