Rocking and Rolling

Well, we knew the passage from Martinique was going to be one of our more challenging ones so far, given the weather forecast of 20-25 knots of wind and up to 10’ seas, so we had a couple backup/bailout plans in place, because you just never know when it’s going to be worse than the forecast, something might break on the boat, one of us gets hurt or something. So we snuck down to the southern tip of the island, saw a couple other boats going for it, and we decided to give it a go too. With a double reef in the mainsail and just a scrap of jib showing, and everything tied down and stowed securely, we felt pretty well prepared for what looked like a few wild hours crossing the 25 mile stretch to St. Lucia.

It didn’t take long for the full force of the wind and waves to cause us to look at each other with eyebrows raised with a sort of “Gee, it really is kind of rough out here, huh?” look. Emmy likes to start out steering, so I busied myself making sure that the sails were set right, checking navigation and double checking to make sure everything on the boat was ready for some bouncing around. The seas were kind of confused, with huge swells coming in from the east (largest I’ve seen since bringing Avalon down from Connecticut in 2005), mixed in with cross swells and wind chop coming from the northeast, which made the ride kind of squirrelly.

About halfway across we could see a squall approaching, the forecast had alerted us to the likelihood of 30+ knot winds accompanying occasional squalls, so we put our foul weather jackets on and I took over steering just as the rain started. Almost immediately the wind whipped up and blew the rain sideways, making each drop that hit any unprotected skin feel like a needle…owww! The biggest gusts hit just as another sailboat was nearing us going in the opposite direction, which made it even more interesting, because visibility was reduced to maybe a couple hundred yards. We slacked the sheets a little and ran off with the wind, keeping a sharp eye out for the other boat, which passed us nearby.

The squall passed over us after about ten minutes and we were feeling pretty good, as the wind backed down a little and the rain stopped. The seas had built a little bit steeper though, and as I was steering through a trough I could see the next one start to steepen and turn a lovely shade of bright pale blue along its top, and realized it was getting ready to break…right on top of... us! I yelled, “Hold on!” to Emmy, and it came down, drenching us and filling the cockpit with fifty or so gallons of sea water . We sputtered and looked at each other for a moment, then checked to make sure the cockpit drains were working - a minute later the water was gone, but we both looked like drowned rats. Yuck.

But there was no time to shower, sit and chat, or even really towel off, as we had our hands full with Avalon hurtling southbound like a late night freight train - exhilarating is as good a word as any I suppose, there’s an undeniable excitement that comes with piloting a sailboat in conditions like these, offset by the realization that there are many things that could go wrong, so your senses tune up to a higher state of awareness, and adrenalin kicks your body into high gear.
St. Lucia ahead was starting to look a lot larger than Martinique behind us, which was a good thing, but we could also see another squall headed our way - oh well :-( Pretty much a carbon copy of the first one, it blew harder, rain pelted us, and the seas got just a little nastier. Thankfully it too blew over fairly quickly, but another wave crashed on top of us too…okay, enough of that!

As we neared the coast of St. Lucia the seas thankfully began to lay down a little, but the wind kept on blowing like stink - at least we were going to get there quickly! When we got within a couple miles of Rodney Bay we could see the huge masts of the “Club Med,” a sailing cruise ship anchored in the harbor, followed shortly afterwards by dozens and dozens of masts…we’re getting close now! Once behind the lee of Pigeon Island, which forms the northern part of the harbor, we dropped our sails and motored into the bay, found a spot off the nice white sand beach and dropped the anchor. Hot showers and hot rum toddies for everybody!

So, looking back, was it a good or dumb idea to make the jump when we did? I had checked and rechecked the weather, and the actual crossing was pretty much what I had expected. It was forecast to worsen over the next few days, so we would have been stuck in Martinique for 4-5 days. Avalon (and crew) proved to be up to the challenge. That said, I’m not anxious to jump right out there and do it again today! It’s a good feeling though to know you can do it if you have to.

And then my wife took off!