Hurricane Tomas - Mayreau

Arthur's house, Red Cross team with backpacks, Zenna in Windward Bay with reefs in background, Annie's pasta, Mark with some of Zenna's rescuers.


Phew! Think we have missed the worst of it. Left Zenna at two am and have been in shelters since. Moved Zenna at midday today to windward side. Bit hairy. Seems you were spared.

That was the text I sent to other yachts we know in Grenada at around 6pm on Saturday 30th October. We had been on high alert since lunchtime the previous day. We were in the Tobago Keys with Karen and John who had joined us for a few days sailing. The boat boys were asking us what we had heard about the weather. The latest report we had seen had forecast winds of 20-25 possibly 30 kts. Some weather sites weren’t reporting any strong winds. The main hurricane site had a 10% possibility of a tropical depression off the coast of South America growing into a tropical storm. It was weather we had experienced in Grenada and felt comfortable staying where we were.

A text from James and Jodie started to change our thinking. There was to be a special bulletin from the Grenada Net’s weather reporter Jonathan at four thirty pm. In all our time in Grenada there had never been a special bulletin. There were also dark clouds emerging from the east. The Keys no longer looked so attractive and we made our way to the nearest island of Mayreau. Choosing to anchor in Saline Bay rather than the more picturesque Saltwhistle Bay as it was more protected from the north and east.

We managed to get internet connection and started studying the weather sites, in particular NOA the US hurricane centre site. The 10% depression was now confirmed as tropical storm Tomas with winds of up to 75 kts. We started packing the boat up to reduce the windage making it less likely for us to drag anchor if the winds hit us. We shouted to a charter boat nearby who were oblivious that the storm warning had been put out. Other boats were also preparing themselves for some heavy weather. We all agreed to listen to channel 69 to communicate if needs be. Then we settled down to have pork with figs with potatoes and veggies and a nice bottle of French white.

We decided we needed to have a watch system during the night to keep an eye on the weather and the boat. John volunteered for the first watch at 10 – 12. Mark and Karen went off to sleep but I couldn’t and ended up reading my book for the next 2 hours. Coming out to check the weather at midnight I was presented with the horrifying news that Tropical Storm Tomas was now growing in strength and there was a hurricane warning for our island and those to the north and south as well. I was pretty anxious as it was, now my head was spinning. We had always said we would get off the boat if there was a hurricane, that was part of our hurricane plan. Unfortunately the hurricane plan also involved being tied up in the mangroves secured to trees and with multiple anchors out. There were no mangroves on Mayreau nor any of the adjoining islands and we felt it would be foolhardy to try to sail further south to where there were mangroves with a hurricane on the way.

I went in to wake up Mark. He groggily acknowledged what I was saying about getting off the boat but didn’t respond. Finally he came out of the cabin saying ‘Your right, we said we’d get off in a hurricane’. Karen and John took the news that we were going ashore in their stride and packed up their overnight bags. Meanwhile Mark and I started a major strip down of the boat and assembling all our valuables to take with us. I had a list for the hurricane grab bag which was a lot more useful than I expected and also meant we managed to eat quite well over the next couple of days, feeding other yachties and the locals who shared the hurricane centre with us. Every time I put something in the bag and left something else out, I kept thinking will I ever see that again. All our things are on the boat, clothes, paperwork, linen, crockery, kitchenware, bikes, scuba gear, even our ski boots and clothes.

At 2am we were packed up and went ashore to find Karen minding everything that had been brought ashore. Apart from a deserted electricity substation the island was dark. The charter boat had an American couple Martin and Sarah on board and they had already been to the top of the island to find the only place to shelter was a church but, given the amount of glass windows, they decided it was not going to be safe. Instead we found Arthur who was to be our host and guide for the next few days. He had come out of his house to check the wind and he opened up his house to us and found covers to lay on the mattresses he had on 4 beds. It was a rudimentary house, breeze blocks and where there were no windows he had boards nailed across but his generosity was unequivocal that morning. We were now 8 having being joined by Annie and Bilou a French couple from Martinique and we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. Karen again had no problem sleeping and everyone dozed a bit but we were all pretty wired.

I was glued to the computer trying to see what was happening with the storm. The local radio was blaring out Barry Manilow and other crooners as Arthur tuned in to get the official bulletins being given out. At daylight around 6am we decided we should try to get into the local school which Arthur explained was the official hurricane centre. We were a sorry bunch walking up the hill with our belongings. Mark and I had as much as all the others together. Fortunately they were all carrying things for us. From the top of the hill you could see the boats. Poor Zenna looked very lonely.

The school was locked but it wasn’t long before the caretaker was found and the place opened. It was a solid building with metal louvre windows. It looked a perfect shelter. We opted to set up our camp in the smaller of the two rooms on the basis that hurricanes damage smaller rooms less than large ones. Mark had slept for 2 hours but I hadn’t slept at all. There was talk of looking for somewhere to have breakfast and we found the Combination Cafe where we had a perfect omelette with toast, banana bread and tea. It felt so normal but our nerves were anything but. Everyone we spoke to from the waitress in the cafe, to the Red Cross workers up at the shelter were shaking their heads over the location of our boats. A few years earlier a huge tidal wave had come into the bay we were anchored in. If the wind came from the west again, the same thing might happen.

Talk back at the shelter was all about where Tomas was going. The NOA site was showing it moving north, which would have taken it away from us. Then it stalled and continued west, heading directly for us. If it went north the wind on our island would come from the west. At 1030 there was a discussion using the primary school blackboard and it became clear that the boats had to be moved. Mark was the first to decide swiftly followed by the others. I was nervous, Tomas was only a few hours away. Should we really be moving Zenna in these conditions. The weather was pretty calm but how long before it blew up? My concerns lasted all the way down the hill, but evaporated when I saw the waves breaking in the bay. An hour later we were on the other side of the island in Windward Bay, surrounded by reefs but in a much calmer spot sheltered from the westerly wind. A couple of local guys, Skipper John, and a chap called Gladio, had helped us negotiate the reefs. I’m not sure where they came from but they hopped onto the boat to help us go around. .

There was much discussion about where to anchor. I was concerned we didn’t have enough anchor chain to anchor too deep. I was also worried about the length of time it was taking to anchor. Mark was deploying 2 anchors on the chain and they were not picking up too well. We normally spend a while making sure the anchor is well dug in. That didn’t happen this time. It was now midday and the hurricane might only be an hour away. Skipper John and Gladio were both wearing hard hats, I jokingly said to him he was ok but what about hard hats for us. As we dingyed ashore the sirens were blaring calling everyone to the shelter. We headed back up the hill at a pace to get back before it hit. Martin and Sarah were hard on our heels but there was no sign of Annie and Bilou. Perhaps they had decided to stay on their boat Zoot like the other two French catamarans in Windward Bay.

The shelter was now filled with families, young people and a small army of Red Cross officials wearing their NGO issued yellow macs, hard hats, wellingtons and bright red back packs filled with survival gear. The back packs were clearly the fashion statement of the moment. People milled around inside and out. When was the hurricane due to hit? The Prime Minister of St Vincent and the Grenadines had been on the radio earlier in the day and his message was constantly replayed, cautioning vigilance, praying we might be spared from the worst of the hurricane. The weather was still calm where we were, but the tension, heightened by our lack of sleep, was oppressive. When Annie and Bilou finally made it back to the shelter a huge cheer went up.

The afternoon wore on and still nothing. Then word came that the hurricane had passed between St Vincent and St Lucia about 50 miles to the north of us at about one in the afternoon. Huge relief all round tinged by some concern that some hurricanes turn back on themselves. A further bulletin was expected at five o’clock when we should get the all clear to leave the shelter. Crates of Hairoun beer were bought for the guys who had helped move the boats and we all joined in emptying the crates. I had crashed for about half an hour mid afternoon on a foam mat on the floor. It was enough to relax me a bit. I have never been so tense in all my life. I never worried about the safety of us all but I was terrified something would happen to Zenna. Must be the closest I will come to worrying about a child.

Beers lead to rum punches concocted by Mark. I had tucked a half bottle of Jack Iron and one of White Jack into his rucksack – just in case. Then Annie discovered a kitchen out the back of the school and a huge pan was brought from somewhere. She had bags of pasta and we had salami and tomatoes left over from lunch which formed the sauce. Karen and Sarah somehow managed to find two bottles of French red at the Combination Cafe. A veritable feast finished off with bars of chocolate and a rum night cap. Arthur joined us for dinner. Biscuits and chocolate were passed around the shelter. The all clear had still not been given, so we prepared to spend a second night on shore. Matresses were brought to the shelter. Most locals returned to their homes apart from two young families who obviously felt more comfortable there than at home. We all collapsed early. Lack of sleep and the rum both playing their part.

There was a toilet block a few yards away from the school house. At 5am we awoke to hear the wind howling outside. A trip to the loo tore the door out of your hands. What was worse the wind had gone round to the east so all the yachts in Windward bay were now exposed. There was still another hour before daylight. Even if we walked over to the church to look down at the bay we wouldn’t see anything. We took comfort from the fact that the bay was surrounded by reefs which would break any swell coming in from the east. But the wind sounded fierce. We wondered if it was being accelerated up to the top of the hill. We dressed and were about to leave the school when there was frenzied knocking outside. A lady called Sarah was shouting, ‘there’s a yacht on the beach’. We rushed over to the church desperately hoping Zenna was ok. But no there she was hazardously close to the shore.

Mark says I lost it at that point. I only remember thinking we had to act fast. I said I was going to get Arthur and Mark went back to the school to get the keys to the dingy and Zenna. Sarah came with me. She was trying to rouse people to help on the way down. We got up Skipper John and a couple of Red Cross volunteers appeared. It all seemed to take an age. All the time we couldn’t see the boat and didn’t know whether she was still upright. Finally it was deemed there was enough of a team to stage a recovery. Mark went off with Skipper John and Sarah lead me along the beach to where Zenna sat on her keel pitching and rolling. By the time we arrived there were already two men on board and Mark and John were close by in the dingy. Zenna was so close two volunteers tried to walk out to her only to disappear in the surf. Her draught is 2.2 meters and we were lucky that the beach she had dragged onto was really steep and the surrounding reefs were keeping the swell low so the waves were relatively flat.

Nonetheless, even with the engine on full and a second anchor deployed she wasn’t budging. By now there were eight men on board and all were busy winching, pulling and grinding trying to pull her off. Eventually they decided to unfurl our huge genoa sail at the front on the boat. As it came out the ladies on the shore with me were gasping. When would you ever need a sail that big they wanted to know. The truth is we rarely get it all out as it overpowers the boat except in very light winds. The genoa strategy worked and the sail heeled the yacht over enough to lift her off the sand and the engine kicked in and drove her forward. It was a wonderful sight to see her back afloat again.

Now they had the challenge of re-anchoring her in building winds. Sarah and the ladies went back up the hill. Arthur, Martin the charterer, who had also come down the hill, and I sheltered in a fisherman’s hut. A huge gust hit the bay. The water went white with foam. We couldn’t see the yachts let alone see how they were coping with anchoring. Later I checked the descriptions for white water with foam and we reckon it must have been blowing 50-60kts. I don’t like to think what might have happened if Zenna had still been aground when that gust hit. Maybe it was a gust like that that dragged her anchor in the first place.

Karen and John were as relieved as we were to get back on board and put the whole episode behind us. They somehow managed to drag all our gear back down the hill. At 5pm we went for sundowners and dinner at the Combination Cafe with Martin and Sarah. Annie and Bilou’s funds didn’t run to eating out but they provided the nightcap, a vicious rum from Martinique, which Bilou made into Ti Punch. Bearly drinkable on its own but quite delicious with some peach juice added. Rum punch drinkers beware. It was a touching farewell the following day as we all went our own ways from Mayreau. We will always remember the selflessness of all the islanders. Sharing their houses and school and taking such good care of us and in the end rescuing Zenna so efficiently.

My text the previous day had been premature. Our hurricane experience had been tense but uneventful. Our drama came only after the hurricane passed. We were let off lightly. The only damage appears to be to her lead keel which has had all its 2 week-old antifouling paint removed and a small section of the rudder which has suffered similarly. I felt I had tempted fate with my text and then my insistence we get back to the hurricane shelter without bedding the anchor in properly. Mark lost no time in agreeing the whole thing was my fault...

Water Matters - Grenada

In England we filled the boat tanks up with fresh water about once a week. Proud of the fact we made it last so long. Even though we used the shore showers each day and the laundry – our washing machine was still strapped to the underneath of the saloon table at the time.

Nowadays we top up every fortnight including all our showering, laundry and cleaning jobs. We are lucky as we have 3 large tanks which hold around 1200 litres which is about twice as much water as most yachts.

Not really sure how things have changed but showers are a case of wetting down, soaping up and rinsing off with water only running when absolutely necessary. We shower in the evenings only as showering in the morning is pointless as you are sweaty in minutes; rarely use the shower on the stern of the boat after a swim and most importantly I only wash my hair every three or four days.

On New Year’s Eve I ended up dancing with a rastaman (as you do) with locks down to the floor. The next day sitting in the cockpit I kept getting wafts of rasta hair smell. I thought it was something on me that smelt, then realised that it was the old chamois Mark used for washing down the boat. Now when I get that smell I know it’s time for a hair wash.

The salt water pump in the galley sink also gets a good work out as it’s used for rinsing plates and vegetables and cleaning out used cans, etc. I can even clean all the windows on the boat with a damp cloth as I wait until it has rained to wash them down. Fortunately the washing machine uses hardly any water so I do do 3 loads each week. I’ve discovered it’s easier to stop the clothes from smelling than trying to get rid of the smell once it’s taken hold.

One day Mark was trying to work out where a bad smell was coming from in the boat. He looked in all the lockers, had the floorboards up but could find nothing. Turned out it was the shorts he was wearing that were the culprit.

With all this in mind we do worry when we go out just how yachty we smell. You get used to wearing some grubby clothes on board. Partly because you do lots of dirty jobs, but also because you are in a perpetually sweaty state. Mark was working on the VHF radio recently, which is above the chart table. I came across to help him do something and wondered why a bucket of water had been thrown across the table – in fact it was just the 3 pints of sweat that had poured off him. He now works with a towel down on the floor and another for mopping up his face and arms where the sweat rolls off.

Any thoughts of me getting away with something more feminine should be dispelled. I have a flannel next to me at all times, particularly cooking, cleaning and shopping. My back often looks like a ’Sure’ ad with beads of sweat running down it (minus the tick). Out and about if I don’t have my flannel when I go into shops I end up dripping on the check out. At a Chinese restaurant the other night the owner came out with a fan to try to cool me down. Then again in my case it may just be my age.

Occasionally we find ourselves off the boat without being washed and perfumed and hope we aren’t too offensive. See the photos of us doing a trailer trash impersonation in the mangroves recently when we were sussing out a hurricane hole for Zenna.

So it is a real treat getting dressed up to go off the boat wearing aftershave and perfume (which is kept in the fridge to stop it going off in the heat). For Mark’s birthday this year I treated him to a room at a local resort. We spent almost the entire 24 hours enjoying the cool of the aircon and not having to worry about dripping everywhere.

And one of the best moments and highlights of the last year was a visit to the volcanic hot springs in Soufriere, St Lucia. We sat for half an hour in the soft warm water. First bath for ten months. Heavenly.

PS Anyone wondering about the caulking of the decks. Very slow progress thanks to the daily downpours. Think we have done about 1/3 of one side and ½ the cockpit. So plans to go to Trinidad and Tobago abandoned and we will stay here in Grenada until October. Surely we’ll be finished by then...

Back in Grenada - Home from home

Chillin in Grenada, True Blue Bay Marina, My birthday breakfast, Barefoot bar Hog Island

We arrived in Grenada over 2 months ago. Got the boat ready for our 3 week trip to the UK and returned on 13 May a whole month ago. Quite the locals now – even bump into people in the supermarket when we are out shopping. We have had a bit of work done on the boat so have met quite a few locals as well as the cruising community which is largely resident in Grenada now that the hurricane season is here. A few new cruising friends as well as some old ones from our times in Portugal and Spain. Even ran into a couple Jules and Ken holidaying on the island who turned out to have had Mr Goodchild as the best man at their wedding.

We are relaxing into a very unenergetic lifestyle – mostly driven by the 30 degree heat and the 90% humidity. Our big project at the moment is replacing the black caulking in our teak decks which is reaching meltdown. Quite literally the black is melting in the heat leaving challenging stains on clothing and feet which then gets trampled through the boat. The caulking that isn’t melting is turning to dust and scattering around the deck leaving behind whole areas of wood exposed. So action is urgently required to sort this out.

So far we have busied ourselves with other jobs, fixing taps in the galley, mending rowlocks on the dingy, replacing headlining in the airing cupboard that had fallen down, even doing a dry run of our hurricane plan (yes we do finally have one) in order to avoid getting on with our sticky deck problem. But no more – last week we got out the chisels to get rid of the remaining black stuff and the tape and sikaflex to replace it. It’s painstaking, back breaking, time consuming work. And so far we have only done a piece 18 inches by 6 inches. The boat it 49 ft by 13ft – gulp!

Apart from caulking, we do have a rough idea now of what we plan to do over the next 12 months. This has stood the test of sharing it with a few other cruisers over the past 2 weeks. Prior to that we kept changing our minds depending on what the last person had said. Basically it goes like this

June/July – Grenada
August – Grenada/Carriacou
September/October – Tobago/Trinidad/Grenada
November – Grenadines, St Vincent, St Lucia, Martinique, Dominica, Guadeloupe
December – Antigua, Barbuda, St Barts, St Martin, Anguilla, BVIs
January – BVIs, USVI, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Turks and Caicos
February – Cuba
March – Mexico, Belize, Honduras
April – Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama
May – Into Pacific and Galapagos

Exact itinery and dates tbc but it’s an outline of the route to get us to the Panama Canal and the Pacific next year. Right now leaving Grenada after Carnival at the beginning of August is already looking challenging if we don’t speed up our caulking...

St Vincent and Mustique

Australia Day 26 Jan 2010

Photos of some places we've been lately and by request from many of you a picture of Marks pony tail!

We woke up at around 7.30am as usual but there was no leisurely newspaper read or lazy breakfast.

We had been into the Grenadines sail makers the day before and Ravi had said he could do the repairs we needed to our main sail. On the way over the Atlantic we had put lagging around the rigging but we still had a lot of chaffing on the sail around the batten pockets and one of the battens had actually broken when the sail got trapped behind one of the stays.

Our crew had been gung ho in the early stages of the crossing and we had been flying along doing 8 – 10 knots and covered 190 miles on one day. However, once we noticed the wear on the sails we reefed in the main and reduced speed to around 6 – 8 knots with an average of 145 miles per day. But the damage had been done, so today we had to get the main off the boat and into the sail maker for repairs. Sounds easy. Not with just the two of us and the wind blowing up to 25kts on occasion. Once we’d managed to wrestle the sail off the mast and boom, we then had to fold it on the deck before bagging it and getting it in the dingy to take ashore. You need to bear in mind that our main sail is 5m x 17m (or 15ft x 50ft in old money) of old heavy duty fabric. There were times I thought I was going to be thrown in the water when the wind caught the sail.

We were also taking a deck cushion in to see if it could be cut down to fit our cockpit. We had asked at a couple of charter companies over Christmas, if they had any old cushions they were getting rid of as our bums were getting pretty sore sitting on teak with only Ikea cushions for padding. A chap called John West was in the process of changing cushions on a catamaran and said we could help ourselves if any of the old ones were any good. We staggered away with armfuls. When he realized we were walking back to the dingy dock he insisted on driving us back. Top bloke. We later went back for more cushions with a small gesture of beers and mince pies as a thank you but he had left for the day. Fortunately we caught up with him later at the local yacht club where we managed to buy him a whisky or two but also discovered his team was furious with him for giving away the cushions. Despite the beers and mince pies they had wanted to sell them. They are great cushions and hopefully Chris who is doing the alterations will do a good job getting them to fit our boat.

As well as the sail maker and cushion lady, we did the usual run round – baker, couple of local supermarkets (glorified corner stores), fruit and veg stall in someone’s front garden, plus a gauntlet run through the local fruit and veggie market run by the Rasta crowd, a stint in the internet café and the purchase of some tickets for the Bequia music festival this weekend. In fact the music festival is the reason we are in Bequia for so long. It had better be good - although all the omens are not propitious. Over New Year we made a reservation at a small French restaurant advertising live music from a special guest – the guest never showed. Last week we were in Mustique and spent an extra night on the island just to be there for the Jump Up at Basil’s Bar. We reserved a table and got all dressed up, paid a fortune for a BBQ buffet only to discover that the Jump Up band had missed the plane and there was some kid trying to do a disco instead. More of a lie down than a Jump Up.

So after a pretty full morning, we had a leisurely lunch back on board and a kip. Mark then went off fishing for the afternoon while I had a swim off the back of the boat. In the evening we had the obligatory BBQ of home-made hamburgers complete with beetroot. Washed down with the cask wine we brought over from Portugal and a large OP Bundy rum and coke. Although Mark had hoisted his huge Aussie flag earlier in the day it had not flushed out any other Australians. There was a boat in the bay with an Australian flag but there didn’t seem to be anyone on board.

All a long way from Australia Day last year spent walking around Sydney Harbour with throngs of Australian families decked out from head to toe literally - I saw one complete family with shoes in the Aussie flag material. All the boats on the harbor seemed to be competing for some prize or other for who represented the best dressed vessel. The media were out in force waiting for a fly past or parachute jump over the harbor – we never found out what it was. Unlike most of the people there, we hadn’t brought a picnic so we eventually headed to Queen Street for our own BBQ at home.

Lisbon

Reflections on 2009

Sitting here on the side of the boat with the laptop perched precariously on my knee, the power cable linked to an extension cable plugged into a socket powered by the generator, I realise just how much I’ve come to accept how even simple tasks are never straight forward on a boat.

Mooring Moments

It’s hard to remember just how green we were in Dover when we first got on Zenna. Mark keeps telling the story of our second day when he was asked by the Dover Marina staff to move the boat to a new berth. He wasn’t even sure how to start the engine, let along get such a big boat away from the dock and moored alongside another much smaller pontoon. Somehow we managed. There have been some pretty interesting mooring experiences since.

We were in Gosport getting the rigging renewed. The boat had no mast as it was off whilst the steel stays were being replaced. It had been a particularly busy day and we had arranged for a diver to come to the boat to check the engine water inlet which seemed to be blocked. We were late and the boat was not where we told the diver it would be. We raced onto the boat, noticing an unusual ripple on the water around the pontoon. I grabbed the mooring lines whilst Mark started the engine. As we pulled away I thought how slick we were getting… As I coiled the lines, Mark noticed a snaking black cable tighten on the yacht’s bow. We had forgotten to disconnect the shore power. I jumped off and grabbed the cable. Pulling it out of the water I realized it had snapped and I was standing on the dock with a live power cable dripping with water in my hand. Fortunately the power socket had tripped and I gingerly retrieved what I could of the cable and climbed back on board. However by this point, the swirling water had pushed us hard against the opposite pontoon and we were pinned by the current as the fierce Gosport tide started to flow out of the marina. The whole situation was not helped as we had only 2 fenders out on the side pinned to the dock, neither in a position to stop us grating against the pontoon. I stood there trying to hold off an 18 tonne boat with little effect except sore shoulders the following day. Poor Zenna still bears the scars today on her port side.

It was the day we started our Lessons Learnt and what would we do differently next time sessions.

Paths Crossing

Cruising around you find yourself running into some people time and again and others not at all. In the boatyard in Lisbon, we got to know Hieko on board Pinta. His crew didn’t drink and you would find him walking the boatyard with a couple of beers in hand looking for company – although his preferred drink was gin and tonic. Whilst we were there, he left the boatyard after 2 years of being on the hard to a great fanfare following a BBQ put on by the boatyard the night before.See pictures. A couple of months later, we were out on a day sail with my brother, Kirsty and her sister Mhairi (Varrie in case you are wondering) who were visiting us in Gibraltar when Pinta came towards us going in the opposite direction towards the North African coast. We had a brief radio chat only to establish they were leaving and heading off down the coast of Africa. However, a few days later we ran into them again outside the chandlery, back in Gib to refuel as the tax free fuel was such a bargain. We ended up with them in a bar run by some Turks who previously lived in Germany and were now living in Spain.

However, the weirdest path crossing came from the couple we got to know best in the boatyard. Sabine and Addie who were getting work done on their sleek US built yacht Annie. When we arrived in the boat yard I was worried about how long we would be there. It was pretty desolate, dusty, hot, patrolled by howling dogs at night and filled with the dirt and noise of the workers during the day. Sergio had assured us our work could be done in 2 weeks which only meant one weekend on the hard. So as we sat in the slings being hauled out of the water and Sabine said hello and welcomed us to the yard, I was horrified when she told me they had been there for 11 months…

If the fanfare for Pinta leaving the boatyard was loud the one for Annie was raucous with all the workers standing on top of the boats they were working on bowing ‘we’re not worthy’ as Addie gingerly started their engine and left the shallow estuary heading for the main Lisbon channel. We had exchanged email addresses and promised to keep in touch and knew we were both heading towards the Canary Islands. 6 weeks later we had picked up our crew in Gib and were heading off on the start of our transatlantic crossing. About 4 days into the passage we spotted a boat off our stern. The first we had seen since we left Gib. Mark got the binoculars out and somehow made out it was Annie. The chance of seeing any boat at sea is remote, let alone someone you know. We managed to make radio contact and both headed for Isla Graciosa on the north east of the Canaries for some serious catching up. As we pulled into the little marina who should be sitting on the opposite hammerhead but Pinta.

Small world, even smaller oceans...