It was not nice in the anchorage today: the winds were in the 20kt+ region and it wasn’t even possible to dinghy into the town to “clear out” with customs for much of the time.
Getting to St Croix took a little more planning than we’ve been used to. It’s about a 20 hour trip at pessimistic speeds, but 18 if the wind is right. We need to make sure we get there in the light so we can see the reefs surrounding the island; we need to set a slightly longer course than our usual straight line to avoid shallow banks in the pitch dark – there’s no real moon to speak of; and we needed to make sail changes to suit the wind.
I was on the 1-4 watch. I had a John Grisham to listen to but the soporific effects of Stugeron were marked. It was hard to keep awake – quite unlike my previous experience. It was quite dark: there was starlight and a light on the horizon from St Martin, but, unlike Greece, there was a feeling of being totally alone. There were no large boats showing up with their “AIS signatures” and nothing on the radar except the occasional squall.
Jamie accompanied Dad at around midnight to look at the stars and share the watch experience. Alex was wakened for the dawn watch.
On the way into Christiansted Harbour, we had a visit from a pod of about 30 Atlantic dolphins. They sported around the boat, leaping, daring crossing in front of the bows, turning on their sides to watch us – fantastic. They decreased their numbers till there were only about 7 diehards. We had their company for about 20 magical minutes, the longest visit so far.
By the way, if there are any helm designers who read this blog – consider the need for shorter people to rest their feet while on watch – I feel like a child on a large dining chair and my body feels pummelled at the end of 3 hours.
Getting to St Croix took a little more planning than we’ve been used to. It’s about a 20 hour trip at pessimistic speeds, but 18 if the wind is right. We need to make sure we get there in the light so we can see the reefs surrounding the island; we need to set a slightly longer course than our usual straight line to avoid shallow banks in the pitch dark – there’s no real moon to speak of; and we needed to make sail changes to suit the wind.
I was on the 1-4 watch. I had a John Grisham to listen to but the soporific effects of Stugeron were marked. It was hard to keep awake – quite unlike my previous experience. It was quite dark: there was starlight and a light on the horizon from St Martin, but, unlike Greece, there was a feeling of being totally alone. There were no large boats showing up with their “AIS signatures” and nothing on the radar except the occasional squall.
Jamie accompanied Dad at around midnight to look at the stars and share the watch experience. Alex was wakened for the dawn watch.
On the way into Christiansted Harbour, we had a visit from a pod of about 30 Atlantic dolphins. They sported around the boat, leaping, daring crossing in front of the bows, turning on their sides to watch us – fantastic. They decreased their numbers till there were only about 7 diehards. We had their company for about 20 magical minutes, the longest visit so far.
By the way, if there are any helm designers who read this blog – consider the need for shorter people to rest their feet while on watch – I feel like a child on a large dining chair and my body feels pummelled at the end of 3 hours.
Top pic: Brimstone Hill Fort from the sea
Bottom pic: Chris explaining how a preventer works
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