MY Fifty Shades *

The captain and first mate studied the weather and scrutinized the charts.  A course was proposed to leave the endless beach of western Barbuda and sail one hundred-eighty nautical miles west to St. Croix-USVI in time to spend Christmas with the kids. The float plan included a few days stop over in St. Martin-FWI to get a baguette fix for the captain and prescription snorkel mask for the first mate. 

 

Exit Strategy pulled up her anchor just as night fell and the captain took the first watch.  Three hours later when the first mate stirred from her bunk, she found the sails full and all was well.  The captain reviewed the vessel’s heading with her and a look at the radar screen showed no other vessels or nasty weather in the way.  Then he retired below deck to settle down in his bunk. The last thing he did was turn off the lights in the cabin.
 

Without those lights, it became VERY dark.  There was no moon light cast upon the waters although this passage was taking place about a week before the full moon. The first mate noted that the sky was thickly clouded and nary a star showed through.  It was EXTREMELY dark.  It was so dark that the first mate could not even see her own feet!  She was wearing a day-glow green shirt, but it looked grey.  The white fiberglass in the cockpit took on a lighter shade of grey.
 

The first mate reviewed the screen again and fell into her night watch routine. First, she clipped the tether attached to her PFD’s safety harness to the starboard side and scanned the horizon for other vessels or hazards by naked eye. Then she used the binoculars to study the starboard side horizon again.  Nothing was found, so she moved to the port side and did the same search.  No worries there, either. Afterward, she looked astern to see if any navigational lights appeared and found none.  She checked the instrument panel and everything was A-OK.
 

Suddenly, the sky lit up well forward of the port side.  The first mate determined that the lightning was a great distance away because it had not shown up on the radar screen.  Nevertheless, she continued with her night watch routine and she began to pray.  All the while, the first mate scanned the sea in a 360’ pattern.  Her focus was so intense that she began to discern varying shades of the night. The rolling waves took on the look of huge muscled, dark grey creatures scurrying across the water always in a westerly direction.  The waves crested near and far in curious swirls of light grey. The dark clouds shifted and ballooned into monstrous proportions. The blackish grey line at the horizon remained a constant.
 

The light show continued, developing into streaks of lightning now occasionally appearing well forward of the starboard side, and finally well behind Exit Strategy on the starboard side.  The vessel was making way easily and on course with no squalls or light rain crossing her path.  The first mate felt secure at the helm as she resumed her watch routine of looking for lights and hazards, reviewing the monitors, and praying.
 

About an hour before the captain was due to take over the watch and relieve the first mate, scant glows of lights from St. Barts, St. Martin, and Anguilla began to appear at the horizon and the lightning show ended.  Exit Strategy’s sails took on new definition in yet a lighter shade of grey, still full and moving the boat at a good pace.  Now, nearing a more populated area, a number of red, green, and white navigational lights were spotted. A few were small fishing vessels while others flashed in patterns to indicate safe passages along the coastal waters of the islands.
 

The captain awoke and joined the first mate in the cockpit.  He was pleasantly surprised that they were that close to their planned “pit stop” in Grand Case, St. Martin. They reviewed the radar and GPS monitors together and determined that everything was fine. Then the first mate handed over the binoculars and kissed the captain “Good night”.  She went below and snuggled into her bunk. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, a more intricate collage of shades of grey was revealed.
     

*All photos taken from Google Images

BARBUDA



Exit Strategy and its crew were looking forward to visiting Barbuda (pronounced Bar-BEW-da), Antigua’s little sister island.  Time ran short last spring when we cruised Antigua, but this year the winds were in our favor.  So northward we sailed from Dominica, passing the lush farmlands visible along the leeward side of Guadeloupe.  We saw multiple rainbows along the way as we maneuvered through isolated light showers, reminding us of God’s covenant with His faithful people.  Yes, it was rain that produced those rainbows, but nothing we couldn’t handle in mainly 15-20 knot winds.  We were reefed and ready.



The northern 5.5 miles of Eleven Mile Beach

The southern half of the beach

We made landfall in Antigua’s Jolly Harbor where we cleared customs and immigration because we were unclear about the procedure for getting permission to cruise Barbuda. I had requested permission via e-mail a week before arriving (as indicated in a recent sailing publication) and finally got permission via e-mail after returning from the Antigua office. 



Barbuda is only twenty-five miles north of Antigua, but it is so flat that you can’t see it until you are just a few miles out.  Even then, the “bumps” of land or trees or buildings can be mistaken for a cloud or vessel on the horizon.  But no-  it’s Barbuda!  As we drew nearer, we could make out varying shades of Caribbean blue under a thin strip of white sand with a clear sky above.

 

                                                        

Viewed from our boat: Codrington is at the horizon past the lagoon.

An estimated seventy-five percent of Barbuda’s coast is rimmed with reefs.  Our guide book described the western shore south of Low Bay as easier to safely navigate, so we headed there to drop the hook.  This side of the island is called Eleven Mile Beach and we walked about half of it on different days. The sand is pinkish along the surf from bits of pulverized coral. There were no docks, but nature was kind enough to bury some sturdy driftwood every so often onto which a dinghy could be secured.  There was one restaurant that would open for dinner IF you went in and found the owner in time for him to go to town to get food to prepare and the chef.  An exclusive beach resort that delivered guests via helicopter was north of our anchorage. It posted a “Guests ONLY Beyond This Point” sign on the beach.  We skipped that resort and preferred to frequent the Oasis Snack Bar, an up-cycled shipping container, on the beach about one-hundred paces away. 

Animals graze untethered just off the main road in town.

 

We went into the main town of Codrington by way of water taxi that motored us from the thin strip of Eleven Mile Beach across the lagoon.  The town was easy to walk about and the people were extremely friendly.  Barbudans are a closely knit community and they knew all about us in town because word had spread after our conversations with the bar tender on Eleven Mile Beach.  The other big news item of the week was about a local butcher who had been arrested after stealing and slaughtering a steer…





A tractor shot for my farming family

             

 

Sorrel makes a refreshing sweet red drink. 

 
It would be so easy to lose track of time here with miles of pristine beach to explore.  One could easily decide to stay indefinitely or at least until your provisions ran out.

Nighty night, Barbuda.