Saturday February 24

Our first jaunt will be to Trellis Bay on Beef Island, next to Tortola.

By the time I rise, Kim and Bob have been to the farmer’s market and the 8:15 a.m. briefing. I am groggy and disgruntled. I would have slept longer, but the boat’s rocking and noises have made sleep impossible. Initially my eyes will not focus or remain open. Bob has brewed a carafe of strong coffee. After several sips I am fully awake. Today's breakfast is simple, yet ample. Yogurt, fresh fruit, farmer's market cake, and more brew satisfy my hunger. Ian feels like he slept well, but is tired. Kim hasn't slept well because "Bob's kind of a bed hog". Only Bob has slept well.

Kim ad Bob must attend one more orientation. Ian and I wash dishes and prepare ourselves for the voyage. We must bring all we need during the trip up top. Bob has cautioned that during a cruise, the hull is an uncomfortable place. I pack a book, water, snacks, and my camera. Sunscreen, shades, and a hat will also be essential. For extra protection I wear knee-length nylon shorts and an elbow-length sun-blocking jersey.

Our First Sail

We will motor out of the crowded harbor. Bob turns a key on the control panel and the Eucalyptus quietly chugs to life. Someone on dock unwinds and tosses up the thick rope holding us. As we move away from the dock, Bob and I untie the fenders from the railing and stow them. Before we are fully underway we must let the dinghy out so it trails at a safe distance. For the first time I notice our dinghy. I have imagined it as a clunky metal rowboat. Instead it is a small rubber raft with an outboard motor. We will use it to motor between the Eucalyptus and land.

Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/peahayes/423060554/

Bob helps. I am shocked at the intense force of the dinghy straining to be free. Without Bob's help I might have lost it. Bob shows me how to anchor the line by winding it around a cleat. The first three loops are simple. The fourth loop is twisted just so. It is obvious when the loop is twisted correctly. However, during our early sails I seldom do it correctly the first time.

Kim and Bob raise the mainsail and let out the jib. Once we are clear of the harbor and heading east, Bob cuts the motor and we are sailing. The moment is magical. We hear no sound but the wind and waves. The Eucalyptus rocks naturally with the swells.

Reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jib

Ian and I learn plenty the first day. We learn to keep rope neatly wound and never to let it trail in the water. We also learn that rope is "line", not "rope". We learn to hang onto anything solid when moving about on deck. We learn which parts of the deck not to hold onto. My favorite lesson is how to tack. When tacking, the skipper turns the bow through the wind so that the wind changes from one side of the boat to the other. Essentially, we turn at a 90-degree angle to the direction in which we are currently sailing.

Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/peahayes/424375834/ Reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tack_%28sailing%29

The first time we tack, Kim is the skipper. Ian and I crew while Bob choreographs. We will swing the jib from one side of the Eucalyptus to the other. One line holds the jib in its original position. One person carefully unwinds that line from its cleat onto her winch, just two times around. The second person will use a second line to haul the jib across the bow and anchor it in place. That person winds the second line twice around his winch. The skipper announces "Ready about", and the crew replies "Ready".

When the skipper is ready to tack she announces "Helm's a-lee". The first person frees her line. The second person rapidly reels his line in by hand. The jib moves across the bow. When reeling by hand becomes difficult, the second person fully threads his winch and cranks it to finish swinging the jib. When the skipper judges the jib to be sufficiently taut, the tack is complete. Tacking for the first time is exhilarating. A lot happens quickly. Our first tack is not masterful, but over the week we improve.

Trouble

Once crewing activities have dwindled, I stretch out on deck to read. After a few pages I hear shrill beeping. I observe the cockpit, but no one beckons. Shrill beeping continues. Curiosity eventually draws me back to the cockpit. We are in some trouble. The engine won't start. We have rounded Beef Island and are close to Trellis Bay. A more skillful skipper could sail into the Bay, but we must motor in.

Bob has already called the Footloose yacht rental company for help. Time passes but no one comes. He calls again, politely, but more insistent. Not one to wait idly, he phones his friend Henry in New York. Henry suggests that Bob try a long-time sailor buddy who would know more. The veteran skipper answers Bob’s call, helping him troubleshoot from afar. The skipper thinks the problem could be a dead battery.

Gazing through binoculars we have counted two free mooring balls. If the motor is not fixed soon, other yachts will claim them. Numerous sails close in from the horizon. A sailboat behind us politely awaits our move. Giving up on us, it motors in to claim a mooring ball. Suddenly the Footloose people speed up. A technician climbs aboard and pokes around. While he troubleshoots, I go for a swim (see http://www.flickr.com/photos/67126329@N00/428682991/). With my snorkel mask I can see the underside of the Eucalyptus. The propeller is surprisingly small, but the keel is impressive. The technician discovers a problem with the solenoid, which he fixes. The engine chugs to life. As the technician returns to his boat, Bob gratefully offers him a drink, perhaps some soda or a beer. The technician politely declines, saying, "I'm still on the job".

Using the dinghy Kim and Ian motor over to the last mooring ball. Bob carefully maneuvers the Eucalyptus towards them. Kim hands the ball up to me. I try to thread a line through a handle on the ball but am too slow. The force of the vessel’s momentum yanks the ball from my hands. Comically, we drift on by without mooring. Bob advises us to use a tool next time. As we near Kim and Ian once again, I hand Kim a long hooked pole. She successfully attaches the line and we are moored.

A Somewhat Relaxing Evening

After changing into dry clothes, we motor ashore for drinks and dinner. A tail-wagging dog greets us at the dock. De Loose Mongoose restaurant is loud with reveling patrons. A waitress seats us by ourselves on the beach. For months Kim and Bob have been looking forward to "Painkillers", much to my bafflement. “What pain?” I have been wondering. But the Painkiller is merely a cocktail that is extremely popular in the islands. I opt for the non-fruity Bushwhacker.

We order our food and settle into our drinks. Ian has been quiet all day. Later we learn that Dramamine makes him lethargic. Bob is also quiet. My drink tastes exquisite and makes me animated. Kim and I discuss social and economic injustice in America's inner cities. Although we are glad to be here, we feel the prick of self-reproach. While we eat and converse, Bob disappears several times. Later, we learn that he has been heaving his guts out in the men's room. Back on the Eucalyptus, Bob lays on the deck to sleep off his illness.

The hold is cooler tonight. Fresher air circulates with the help of fans. I think I will be able to sleep. I predict that Kim will sleep better, having extra space in her bed. I hope that Ian will sleep better, too.

Prev: Arrival Next: Virgin Gorda