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...