Obelisk Circumnavigation '08

Deshaies, Guadeloupe is a popular cruising stopover because of its convenient location on the NW corner of the island and because it has a customs office.  When we arrived, the anchorage was crowded but the picturesque town was almost empty.  We attempted to clear customs but could not seem to cross paths with a customs agent--the office is only open 45 minutes each weekday and not on a regular schedule! 

We needed to move the boat to the capital, Point-a-Pitre, to address several critical problems that had arisen.  Between Montserrat and Deshaies, we discovered that the port-side tang, or bracket, that secures the lower shrouds to the mast had cracked and was only hanging on by a thread--of the two original inches of stainless steel, less than 1/4" remained holding the shrouds in place.  Failure at that connection while sailing could have been spelled disaster for our mast.  Problems tend to come in groups and, true to form, we discovered this problem while investigating why our headsail furling system was sticking. 

Apprehensive about exposing the faulty piece of rigging to the stresses of sailing coupled with a temperamental furler, we decided to crank up the engine and motored the 50+ nautical miles, and 8 hours, to Point-a-Pitre.    It was the first time since leaving the Chesapeake that we had used our engine for anything other than anchoring.  Just outside the entrance to Point-a-Pitre, we hit a large squall whose heavy rain afforded the opportunity for a basic, but needed, shower.

Point-a-Pitre is the second-largest city in the Caribbean and that size made it fairly easy to find the necessary services.  We tracked down a rigging shop, run by the eminent sailor, Claude Theilier, which agreed to fabricate brand new tangs (both port and starboard) in a timely manner.  They took it one step past our expectations when they finished the pieces that afternoon and delivered them to a marina near us the following morning!  The new tangs fit without too much hassle--they were fabricated using metric measurements, while our mast is standard, so the holes had to be enlarges slightly. 

Afterwards, we turned our attention to our stubborn furling system and discovered that there were actually two problems.  We remedied the first problem, excessive halyard tension,  by slacking the halyard slightly which took pressure off the roller bearings at the top of the mast.  The second problem was a little more serious.  The top of the furling sheath had been damaged and a jagged piece of aluminum extrusion was chafing the halyard.  Following the manufacturer's advice, we used a hacksaw and metal file to remove and smooth the problem section--it seemed a bit unorthodox but we have had no problems since.

Repairs were expected to take much longer than they had, so we pulled up and headed south to a small group of islands known as The Saints.

Guadeloupe pictures:  http://s374.photobucket.com/albums/oo184/svobelisk/Guadeloupe/: 

Montserrat was not in our original itinerary.  We planned to sail directly from Charlestown, Nevis to Deshaies, Guadeloupe but, when the wind completely vanished abeam of Montserrat, we decided to stop for the night and investigate.  We were already south of the last harbor containing a customs house, so we dropped anchor and remained the night under our yellow quarantine flag.  Though we did not go ashore, the next morning, we got a clear view of the former capital, Plymouth.  In 1997, volcanic activity in the Soufriere Hills completely destroyed the thriving town of 30,000.  The area remains fenced off from the land side and there is a landing moratorium south the exclusion zone.   Almost as a reminder that it could happen again, a dense cloud of sulfur-smelling volcanic gasses spewed from the crater.

Sint Maarten and Saba were an appropriate introduction to the Caribbean lifestyle but, with just over a month to go until hurricane season (begins June 1), we headed farther south.  From Simpson Bay we sailed SSE between St. Barth's and St. Eustatius before turning SW over the nortern tip of St. Kitt's, our first stop.  We were a bit surprised to find the modern cruise ship terminal and customs area completely empty but soon heard that the busy season had ended in late March.  Perfect.  St. Maarten was catered almost entirely to tourists and it was refreshing to enjoy a town without hordes of cruise ship passengers.

We spent the first two nights at the commercial harbor before moving five miles south to the deserted White House Bay.  In colonial days, White House Bay and its neighbor, the aptly named Ballast Bay, served as the unloading areas for the ballast stones that empty trading ships from Europe carried in their keel for added stability.  Once the ship loaded her cargo, the extra weight was no longer needed and the stones were pitched in to the bays.  There we snorkeled on two wrecks, one modern tugboat and one 1730's British troop transport ship.  Unfortunately, the older ship was difficult to distinguish and we did not see any of the five cannon that surround the wreck. 

Basseterre, the capital, possessed a distinctly Caribbean attitude that we did not find in St. Maarten.  We explored the town and dined at a decidedly local restaurant where we became quick friends with the operator.  Unfortunately, she said, we missed the pig's tail soup by one day, but the curried chicken and stewed ribs were delicious too. 

Matt and I took found a "bus," which turned out to be a private 45 minute cab ride for the equivalent of $.75 US, north to St. Paul.  The driver dropped us next to the Prime Minister's house--distinguishable only by the flag in the front yard--and we set out through hundreds of acres of sugar cane on our way to Mt. Limuiga's crater.  The cane fields have not been farmed since the last British company pulled out of the country in 1995 but the cane continues to thrive.  The sweet, pithy stalks made ideal snacks on our way back down.   The cane gave way abruptly to dense forest of gigantic banyan and mango trees, while an invasive species, the Ververt monkey, scurried around the forest floor.   When we reached the top, though the peak was obscured by dense clouds, the crater did not disappoint. 

Catching a bus to had been easy in the morning, why shouldn't it be easy in the afternoon?  Unfortunately, we did not consider that nearly nothing operates on a Sunday afternoon in the Caribbean.  We made it back to Basseterre but could not find a bus back to White House Bay at the southern tip of the island, 8 miles away.  Walking was the only option and we made it back to the boat just after sunset.   

We must thank Mike and June Kelly, whom we met in White House Bay when they recognized our boat from Sarah Creek on the Chesapeake, for giving us all the leftover food they did not plan on using during their voyage back to the States--it was a welcomed change of pace.

From White House Bay, St. Kitt's, we sailed across the narrow channel to the other member of the Federation, Nevis.  Moorings were compulsory and we picked up one just off of Sunshine's Bar, home of the "famous" Killer Bee cocktail.  We gave one a shot but didn't go back for seconds!    We spent a couple days exploring, visited the Alexander Hamilton birthplace and museum and filled up our water tanks from the renowned Admiral Lord Nelson Springs, before dropping the mooring bridal and heading south again.

St. Kitt's and Nevis pictures:  http://s374.photobucket.com/albums/oo184/svobelisk/St_Kitts_and_Nevis/

There are no beaches, no marina, no true harbor; Saba does not have a good place to land a dingy.  This tiny, five square mile, volcanic island rises 2854 feet, straight out of the sea, 25 nautical miles south of Sint Maarten.  It remains quaint and local because it lacks the typical resort setting, but that's just what we welcomed after the commotion at St. Maarten.  While Bailey Edwards visited, we sailed around the island without making landfall, but what we saw from a distance convinced us the island needed further investigation. 

There are no protected anchorages and the surrounding waters have been designated a marine park, so we were made to pick up a mooring.  Luckily, the Saba Marine Park Authority recognizes the value of the pristine environment and provides moorings, at no cost, to protect the surrounding reefs from the terrors of anchor chain. 

We chose a mooring at the north end of Well's Bay, near Torrens' Point, where we were told there was fantastic snorkeling.  Unfortunately, the bay is on the opposite side of the island from the customs office--Saba is part of the Netherlands Antilles, to which St. Maarten also belongs, so we did not need to clear customs again, just announce our arrival.  To accomplish that task, we needed to land out dingy at Ladder Bay, immediately south of Well's Bay, climb "The Ladder" up to "The Road" and head down the back side to the customs office.  We landed on a rocky shore through the surf, which was easy enough, but the reverse action nearly swamped us!  Then we faced "The Ladder," 524 huge steps, carved into the mountainside, leading up to "The Road."  Before a breakwater was constructed on the opposite side of the island for cargo ships, freight had to be lugged up the Ladder on workers' backs.  After reaching the top, carrying only a backpack, I had great respect for anyone completing the same route with 100+ pounds of cargo on his back!

We tripped down "The Road," as it's known locally since it's the only one on the island, to check in with customs.  There we met JoBean at the Saba Marine Park Authority office who gave us detailed information about the diving and hiking opportunities available.  We planned on a three-day stay, so we decided the Rob would dive for two days while Matt and I hiked, and we would spend the third day snorkeling at Torrens' Point. 

Rob's account of his dives was incredible--he was ecstatic, even as an experienced diver.  Nor did the hiking disappoint.  We began the first day by hiking to the top of Mt. Scenery, a dormant volcano and the island's central peak.  The progression of flora and fauna from sea level to the summit was astounding--the bottom was arid and overrun with goats, while the top was situated in a rain forest, thick with vegetation and teeming with exotic birdlife.   Later that day, we walked down the other side of the island to the tide pools, which were formed when lava flowed into the sea.  We found the outer pools awash with the pounding surf and the calmer areas filled with hundreds of sea urchins and colorful fish. 

The highlight of the trip, at least for Matt and I, was the day spent snorkeling in the waters off Torrens' Point.  We had never seen water so clear or so many varieties of coral and fish in the same area.  After puzzling over the grinding sound audible only when underwater, Rob informed us that it was the sound of the brightly colored Parrot fish aggressively munching on the coral.  As we headed back to the dingy, two huge turtles lumbered by giving us a curious look before heading out to deeper water.

The last full day on the island, Rob dove and Matt and I hiked the North Coast Trail, through rainforest, around cliffs and to the abandoned sulphur mine.  Shrugging at the sign reading "Enter at Your Own Risk," we hunched over and went in, one headlamp between us.  Halfway back, the bats woke up!  There was not much room in the shaft and they screeched by our heads a little too close for comfort.  We had seen enough, it was time to head back out into the daylight. 

We dropped the mooring and headed back to St. Maarten, sorry to leave behind the picturesque island but excited to collect Willie, who had been in the States at his sister's wedding.  We're working on a short list of repairs and then we'll head south to the soverign federation of St. Kitts and Nevis.

Saba Pictures:  http://s374.photobucket.com/albums/oo184/svobelisk/Saba/

846 nautical miles SSE of Bermuda lies St. Maarten, a small island in the northeast Caribbean that is shared between France and the Netherlands.   It’s northeasterly location made it a natural choice for our landfall and a little more exciting, we felt, than either the US or British Virgin Islands.  After consulting our pilot charts and getting the latest weather forecast, we departed St. George Harbour with high spirits at 3:15pm Wednesday, April 1, 2009.  Everything looked great: the winds were going to be light but from the NE to E, which would mean that we might not even have to tack, and no major weather systems were forecast.  As we left Bermuda in our wake everything looked just as it should…until the wind died.  For twenty-four hours, we drifted in circles with the sails furled, in sight of the island.  Facing a long passage, we did not want to waste diesel, just in case it became necessary to motor later.  So, we drifted, the boat pitched and rolled, halyards banged incessantly and it felt like trying to sleep

When the wind did pick back up, it was not from the predicted—or desired—direction, it came from the SSE and it blew from that direction for the next eight days, without change.  An old adage says that “a gentleman never sails to weather,â€� so we must not be considered gentlemen because we’ve been hard on the wind ever since leaving the Chesapeake Bay!  Tacks were long, sometimes lasting days and covering hundreds of nautical miles, but the wind blew 15kts consistently and, at least, we were moving. 

We crew fell into a routine and time passed rather quickly.  Sunrise and sunset were the two big events of the day, unless we threw in a tack, which was no big task but provided a change of pace and something to focus on, if only for a few minutes. 

Every day, fish hit our lures and we managed to boat four dolphins and one bonito—we ate fish every meal for nearly a week.  In Bermuda, Rob learned a recipe for fish seviche, a method of cooking fish and other seafood without heat, using acids from citrus fruit and vinegar, and we put it to the test.  We placed raw dolphin steaks into Ziploc bags with lemon juice, vinegar, onions, garlic and assorted other spices, then set the mix aside for several hours.  The result is delicious, tender fish steak ‘cooked’ o perfection.  Of course, we cooked our fair share the traditional way as well. 

At 4:45am on April 10, Matt spotted the light on Sombrero, a rock half-way between Anegada, BVI and Anguilla, an island just north of St. Maarten.  As the sun rose, the low profile of Anguilla crept up on the horizon, followed soon after by the peaks of St. Maarten.  Everyone was glad to see land and ready for several things, in no particular order: some solid ground, a cold beer and a shower.  By noon, we dropped anchor in Simpson Bay and headed in to clear customs, where our friend, Bailey, was waiting patiently. 

St. Maarten is a “mega yachtâ€� destination and we found it much busier and commercialized than sleepy St. George.  All around were sailboats up to 160’ and power yachts approaching 300.’Despite the spotless vessels and professional crews, we were one of the finest looking boats in Simpson Bay. 

After customs, we each went our separate ways to explore, run errands and have a little time alone.  However, by coincidence, we all met at the St. Maarten Yacht Club (more of a bar on the water as there aren’t and boats there) to watch the 5:30pm Town Bridge opening, when the mega yachts parade in and out of the lagoon.  That first ice-cold Presidente beer was much needed and savored!     

Five days after sailing out of the Severn River under fair skies and light breezes, Obelisk lines up on Town Cut, the narrow entrance to St. George Harbour in Bermuda.  The incredible vigilant Bermuda Harbour Radio operator directed us to the Customs Office, located on the Northeast corner of Ordnance Island.  We had completed the first of many passages in our circumnavigation safely.

The adventure began midday Wednesday, March 18, 2009 with a champagne toast among family and friends at Scotchy�s Place.  With Herbert, Louis and Peter Winfield following in the Boston Whaler and taking pictures, we set the mainsail and sailed out of the Severn only to discover that our GPS/chartplotter was not receiving a signal from the antenna.  It had worked the day before, just prior to installing our new solar panel, so it was surprising and a little concerning.  Troubleshooting the system revealed that, when running the wire for our new solar panel, one of the antenna wires had been nicked with wire clippers, severing the link with the GPS computer.  Once diagnosed, the fix required only that we cut out the damaged section of antenna cable and resplice the connection.  The problem resolved, the chase boat waved its final goodbyes and we were on our own. 

We spent the balance of the afternoon and evening beating into a Southeast breeze and the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay.  At 9:15pm, with Willie at the helm, Obelisk passed the line between Capes Henry and Charles and stuck her nose into the Atlantic.  Because someone always needs to be the crew member responsible for the boat and sailing continues through the night, we set up our watch schedule beginning at 7pm and rotating every three hours afterwards.  Split between four crew members, the three hour watch system is flawed because it ensures that each person stands watch at the same time each night.  On future passages, we will devise a better system which will ensure that everyone gets a different watch each night.

The first night passed without significant excitement, save the thrill of finally being on our way!  On the 4-7am watch, we dropped off the continental shelf, going from roughly 300 feet to over two-thousand feet of water in the span of ten minutes.  Behind us, our wake caught fire with the glow of millions of tiny phosphorescent creatures disturbed by our hull.

During the day Thursday, the wind diminished and began to fill to the West.  To take advantage of the light air and new direction, we bent our new Sperry Sails spinnaker for the first time.  While it was great for us to finally see our new chute and marvel at how large it is compared to our old one, the wind completely died forcing us to douse it.

Early Friday morning, the clicker on our fishing reel screamed fish-on!  The strike occurred at 8 knots, so the first concern was slacking the sheets to take power out of the sails and slow the boat.  We had had one strike the previous day, but the fish had broken out 100lb leader!  The fish fought for twenty minutes before Rob used the gaff to bring it on board.   We set to cleaning the 15lb mahi mahi, our mouth watering at the prospect of fresh fish for the next three days.

As dead calms following fresh breezes often portend, the wind piped up from a different direction.  Within the hour, it had freshened to 25 knots with gusts well over thirty from the Northwest--the forecasted shift had finally materialized.  We made 7.5 knots under double reefed main and genny.  After a meal of seared mahi mahi steaks, we furled the genny and were able to continue making 6.5 knots under double-reefed main alone.  However, the imbalance in the sail configuration created significant weather helm, a condition achieved when the boat is out of balance due to too much power in one of the sails.  The weather helm was sufficient to overpower our autopilot.  We needed to balance the boat, but the wind had freshened too much to fly our staysail, a sail flown from the innerstay.  Luckily, we had another option.  Peter Winfield, Jesse�s godfather, had given the Obelisk the Stormfok, a tiny storm headsail off his own sailboat.  The sturdy, hanked-on sail fits into a backpack and would provide just the right amount of sail.  Handling the small sail proved to be a snap and soon we were flying the Stormfok.  Not only did the sail balance the boat and remove the weather helm, it gave us an extra knot-and-a-half.  We spent the rest of the night on a broad reach, in fifteen-foot swells, doing 8 knots over the water!

Subsiding breezes, just after dawn, caused us to trade the small Stormfok for larger staysail and shake one reef out of the main.  The wind gradually filled to the Northeast and East, with no appreciable drop in force, and we passed another windy, rainy and cold night without much excitement. 

Rain continued Sunday and visibility dropped to under three miles.  The wind had shifted to due East, which made it impossible for us to sail around the extensive reefs off the North tip of the island.  Some 50 nautical miles off Bermuda, we made the decision to fall off and sail under the South end of the island, instead of throwing in an uncomfortable tack to weather in order to give proper berth to the formidable reefs.  The adjustment meant that we would not be able to make landfall at St. George Harbour before nightfall.  We had no intention of shooting the unfamiliar and treacherous cut in high winds and at night!  To kill time we planned to lay-to to the Southeast of Gibb�s Hill light and wait for daylight.  The wind diminished overnight and we were able to make around 2.5 knots towards our destination. 

Bright and early, at 7am, Bermuda Harbour Radio hailed the Obelisk on VHF 16 and relayed instructions for entering the Harbour.  Since the cut is so narrow, BHR requires their permission to enter the cut  dafter they have ensured it is clear of large boat traffic.   BHR directed us to the customs dock on the NE end of Ordnance Island.  Customs required that we declare and surrender our spear and flare guns, but was otherwise quick and accommodating.  By 12:15pm, we were anchored in the harbor and set to the formidable task of drying out after the wet passage. 

Now, we�re looking forward to a week of working on a small list of concerns and enjoying Bermuda.