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Bonaire – so many dives, so little time

That’s the tourist bureau’s slogan for Bonaire on their Dive Guide. Known for its shore dives where divers rent pickup trucks and tanks and drive to marked spots, suit up and just walk in from the shore and eventually slip under the  water and drop over the nearby sloping reef wall that runs along most of the island, I so far have all boat dives under my belt here. I will fit in a shore dive or two before we depart for the next island Curacao. Boat dives take you where fewer go and today’s east coast dives where very few go.

The effort takes more planning and experienced divemasters but the rewards are untouchable. The east coast of Bonaire faces the open ocean, the Caribbean which is wide open to the Atlantic so there’s swells and currents and sometimes more turbidity. But today we were treated to turtles large and larger, swimming, eating and sleeping, a green moray eel the length of two yard sticks, a nurse shark, barracuda not to mention all sorts of other less celebrity but nonetheless beautiful and interesting fish. Saw so many turtles that we were always looking one way or another at one, sometimes two at once. Also experienced harvesting the dreaded lionfish with three hunters along with us, they speared every one of these voracious out-of-town reef predators they saw and eventually cleaned them and will eat them for dinner. There is a concerted effort here to eradicate if possible the lionfish. And Bonaire’s reefs are really all about the corals, fans, sponges in amazing vivid colors. I hope my go pro captured some of the great moments of close encounters with our neighbors below the ocean’s surface.

I’m sure there is nightlife here but after a day of diving, it’s hard not to just fall below the sheets and hit the pillow.

 
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Aves de Barlovento

Anchored on the edge of the mangroves just beckoned for some exploration with the dinghy penetrating the waterways within the mangroves. And so Andrew and I set out this morning in this uninhabited/able mass of mangrove trees, birds, sand and muck, beautiful don’t get me wrong. We knew it would be shallow but outside this landless forest in the aqua blue calm ocean water were turtles swimming around going about there morning munchies. Once inside the passageways of the mangroves we meandered into shallows where we abandoned our motor, tilted it up and use our oars like canoe paddles and quietly proceeded. Hundreds of birds, thousands if I really started a count, flying all about, roosting, nesting, some with fuzzy chicks and I’m ashamed I can’t tell you what kind of birds. Then there was the unmistakable pelicans dive-bombing about and raising there gullets to slide another one down as if they were toasting – cheers. Around a corner there it was – PINK, long legs, really long neck curved at the top with a big beak – a pink flamingo, that icon at the entrance of so many zoos. There was only one pink one and we just watched, I filmed, patiently waiting for flight without causing it. Got it and I wish I could share it with you but the SAT phone doesn’t carry such megabytes for less than megabucks, so when I get home or should I say back because I feel quite home her on the INNcredible Sea Lodge I’ll share that footage of a pink flamingo in the wild.

Before rowing back out of the mangroves back to the boat, we beached it on a stretch of sand. Andrew went for a walk and came back with three conch, freshly picked from the waters in between some mangrove trees. We’ll be exploring the culinary possibilities of conch soon.

Back on board it was time to pull up chain and anchor and head off to the next fantasy island Aves de Sotavento some 20  miles west. And that meant it was time for the fat lady PUFF to get all poofed out.

 
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Gullible travels

Can you imagine if you lived on a very remote hidden island within a tribe isolated from the rest of the world most of your life? The village shaman would be busy diddling around everyday as the other men were hard at work hacking away at their tree trunks making their dugout boats as would be the women collecting the edibles, preparing them, etc. For almost a lifetime the hardworkers put up with the shenanigans of the shaman after all it is their tradition. But they had to wonder about what this shamanism was all about.

Then one day, one bright sunny morning, far out across the sea appears a tall bright golden billowing cloth with red radiating from its three corners and this brilliance riding in upon a pure white chariot of sorts cutting through the seas. The shaman takes everything as a sign but this was big, this was something and he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to show his stuff. The shaman declares an arrival, a coming, a fulfilling of the ancestors prophecy and rallies all villagers to come to the beach, to witness the spectacle, to partake in the fulfillment of prophecy. The sweaty men chipping away say ‘oh what the hell, let’s take a break’, the women are more supportive of the shaman and the children run with excitement down to the sand,

Meanwhile on the boat I’m daydreaming looking at the backside of PUFF and admiring her brilliance and wondering what if we came upon an island and they saw this magnificence coming toward them. And this magnificence had some significance that propelled the village into action. Upon our arrival would the white bearded man behind the curtain (PUFF) be fulfilling enough? What would they expect me to do or be? What did I have to offer? Well, I had some leftovers from Christmas when I was Santa in the fishing village of Anse le Raye. Actually I have about 200 lollipops, 30 packets of gummy bears and some other gummy fruits. Would this be enough? And what about after they suck the life out of those pops?

I could pull up anchor in the cloak of darkness that night and mysteriously vanish. But what if this  was just a rerun of a story passed down through the ages about when men showed up in big sailing ships arriving in fanfare and with treats but then proceeded to enslave them, rape them their women and their lands and eventually almost kill them off with their diseases? Maybe they already have a fire started with a big pot to boil and we’re headed for the pot. Oh my god, I looked up and there it was that island in the middle of nowhere but the sea. And on the shore awaits a small crowd of underdressed men, women and children. I’m in my shorts and a T-shirt. Should I change into something more exciting, more colorful, more inspiring? Naah, remember I got lollipops.

 
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Meet the fat lady Puff

Finding respite after 50 hours of sailing in a little sandspit within the Los Roques archipelago in the distant coastal waters of Venezuela, Andrew and I enjoy a good bottle of Cartuxa Portuguese wine, a pot of Colcannon and a movie. Mind you all this is at anchor with little or no shelter from the wind and swell but we woke refreshed after a good night’s sleep and set sail for the next of Venezuela’s islands, the Aves.

To sail the 55 miles we needed enough speed over ground to go those 55 miles within daylight. It’s always smart to find your next place of anchor with good light especially out here in the land of reef and sandbars, mangroves and coral heads. The wind was DDW (dead down wind aka at our backs) calling for a spinnaker. We just flew our spinnaker for the first time ever the day before so we were eager and confident to fly her again. Up she went with slight modifications from the day before and how beautiful she is, flying high, all puffed out, brilliant yellow-gold with three corners radiating red and in the morning sun – magnificent. If the apparent wind was 8, our speed was nearly 6; if the wind freshened to 10, our speed was popping 7.  That’s 40 tons moving through the sea powered by a 50 foot by 25 foot of fine cloth – that’s what is amazing to see and feel. Like our Gennaker “Big Blue”, our now out-of-the-bag new spinnaker needs a name. As I sit admiring her all sorts of possibilities pass through my brain and I’m sure more will come but one keeps coming around and for now I’m settling on “Puff”. Later today as we doused the spinnaker, just before a squall, and we both were stuffing this big sail in its bag, actually cramming it, through the large hatch into the sail locker, Andrew said we should call it the “Fat Lady” because it made him think of stuffing a fat lady into a small dress.

Well, that fat lady Puff gave INNcredible head for 45 nauti miles today and we thank her kindly.

Now we lay at anchor, nicely tucked in on the lee side of a long spit of sand and mangroves stuffed with roosting birds within the Aves Barlovento.

Lest I not forget, today started off with a zzziiiinng, actually two zings, shortly after we set sail early this morning. And the first line was flying out faster than we could begin to reel. And just as I got that line at a stand off, the other line set off a running. Andrew jumped on that and started reeling in furiously. Andrew’s line was 50 lb. test and mine only 20 and with the bigger fish still not giving me any chance of bringing it in. As Andrew’s big fish was approaching the boat, the dilemma came with both of our hands full reeling in who was going to get the net to bring in the fish. I walked over holding my rod in total tension, making no progress but not loosing any more line, so I could at least hold the other rod while Andrew got the net. By this time the big fish was at the back of the boat and it was really big. It wouldn’t even come close to fitting in the net, this barracuda was 3-4 feet long and mad. Andrew darted to get the gaff. Down on the lowest step of the transom Andrew took a swing with the gaff but it bounced off and the fish went wild. “Gaff it hard or lose it”, I said; so he whacked it good and yanked it on board and threw it on the beautiful teak sole (floor). I gave him my rod in hopes that he might bring this monster of a fish on while I tended to the blood bath and the 3+ foot heavy mean-looking and wiggling mad barracuda. How I managed to subdue Boris the barracuda I will spare you the details but Andrew looked over several times and looked away just as quick as I wielded my machete to address the moment. After all the excitement passed, the scene of the surgery washed down, we enjoyed coconut/panko breaded Barracuda burgers with Andrew’s secret sauce and all the trimmings. The other bigger half of the fillets went into the freezer. My neighbor Tom, who offered me much fishing advice and lent me some of his personal gear, would be proud of us – thank you Tom.

 
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PINK, what can I say I saw it and it was PINK.

Anchored on the edge of the mangroves just beckoned for some exploration with the dinghy penetrating the waterways within the mangroves. And so Andrew and I set out this morning in this uninhabited/able mass of mangrove trees, birds, sand and muck, beautiful don’t get me wrong. We knew it would be shallow but outside this landless forest in the aqua blue calm ocean water were turtles swimming around going about there morning munchies. Once inside the passageways of the mangroves we meandered into shallows where we abandoned our motor, tilted it up and use our oars like canoe paddles and quietly proceeded. Hundreds of birds, thousands if I really started a count, flying all about, roosting, nesting, some with fuzzy chicks and I’m ashamed I can’t tell you what kind of birds. Then there was the unmistakable pelicans dive-bombing about and raising there gullets to slide another one down as if they were toasting – cheers. Around a corner there it was – PINK, long legs, really long neck curved at the top with a big beak – a pink flamingo, that icon at the entrance of so many zoos. There was only one pink one and we just watched, I filmed, patiently waiting for flight without causing it. Got it and I wish I could share it with you but the SAT phone doesn’t carry such megabytes for less than megabucks, so when I get home or should I say back because I feel quite home her on the INNcredible Sea Lodge I’ll share that footage of a pink flamingo in the wild.

Before rowing back out of the mangroves back to the boat, we beached it on a stretch of sand. Andrew went for a walk and came back with three conch, freshly picked from the waters in between some mangrove trees. We’ll be exploring the culinary possibilities of conch soon.

Back on board it was time to pull up chain and anchor and head off to the next fantasy island Aves de Sotavento some 20  miles west. And that meant it was time for the fat lady PUFF to get all poofed out and take us for a ride.

 
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Mush, Mush – thank god it’s not that cold here.

I want to say things like ‘On the road again’, we’re ‘Rocking and Rolling’ because we’re back at it sailing on those BIG open seas 24/7. This time we’re crossing the Caribbean from Grenada to Bonaire about 400 miles. Later today we might just slip into the Los Roques archipelago of Venezuela just for a peek and drop our hook for the night – we’ll see. Had big hopes of visiting the islands of Venezuela but so many folks just had the same response as soon as I brought up the subject – don’t go there right now. My gut feeling is a few bad events have mushroomed into a blanket hysteria of fear. Maybe if I had an old boat, maybe if I was carrying a machine gun and a bazooka, maybe if I followed my intuition, I’d go see for myself. Maybe I should. So maybe I’ll just take a peek.

But I’m really looking forward to a little Dutch/Caribe mix on Bonaire and Curacao. What’s way cool is we’ll be in Curacao for Carnival and I don’t mean the cruise line.

So I’m just posting to check-in and let every one know that Andrew and I are in good health and good spirits and happy to be plying the open waters again. Big news for us is we actually put up our spinnaker and sailed all day yesterday averaging 6.5 knots with 10 knots of wind, not too bad when you’re pushing a 40 ton floating B&B through the ocean with only 10 knots or so of wind. So know we have a new sail to utilize when we’re DDW. Big Blue (our genakker) is up right now as we’re on a reach and moving at a bit better than half wind speed.

So stay tuned for exciting updates as the INNcredible Journey gets into the Dutch ABCs, Colombia and the San Blas Islands over the next three weeks.

 

Brian

Captain of the Inncredible Sea Lodge

 
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Where few go, I seek.

Leaving from Canouan’s Tyrrel Bay, a sailors’ favorite, we sailed the crossing over to  Grenada skirting just outside the volcano zone (Kick ‘Em Jenny that blew here top in 1989 is just 500 feet below the ocean waves and the authorities have created an exclusion zone so no passerby get blown to kingdom come someday). But instead of sailing the leeward side of Grenada I wanted a least a taste of the seldom sailed windward side. Sailing into Grenada Bay on the northeast corner we found lush jungle shrouded mountains reaching down to the sea with a number of islands offshore. We nestled up in the lee of this paradise covered island complete with living reefs protecting a palm shaded sandy beach with a totally vegetated interior and dropped our anchor carefully. Carefully I say because you do not want to drop your hook onto coral or any seabed except clear sand so as to minimize one’s footprint and do no harm. All around us was a wonderful exciting reef perfect for snorkeling where we saw a young Hawksbill turtle right next to a Moray eel, next to two Porcupine fish huddled under the rim of an overhang. A ray scampered out in the flats and the reef was full of corals, tubes, fans of many colors even the brainy type. And after the moon set in the middle of the night, the stars were magnificent. Realize the nearest human being to us was at least 3 miles across the bay on the mainland and there were few of them too.

Next day we continued across the northern coast over to the west coast and down. But we stopped where no cruiser stops, at the fishing village called Goyave. Ashore there are no feature designed for the tourist. This is just everyday Grenada and what a charm and eyeopener a walk through this bustling seaport it is. One highlight was a tour of the nutmeg cooperative where one third of the world’s nutmeg is processed in much the same way as it has been for a hundred years. We bought some fresh okra, tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, etc from local growers and along with the fish we had caught that morning on the way we chowdered up that night.

After a long noisy Friday night offshore of Goyave’s endless partying, we found peace at 3am and collapsed.

Next morning’s first stop was Dragon Bay, a small easy to miss indentation in the coastline that I read hosted some good snorkeling reefs. I snorkeled and filmed so the others could see what it was like. On a little further to a major stop at the city of St George where we lay all tied in at Port Luis marina and thus the connection to the rest of the world. A $1 bus ride brought us into downtown and its bustling street market where we loaded up on Papayas, starfruits (carambolas), oranges and veggies plus spices especially nutmeg and cinnamon – wonderful Grenada folks as polite as the best people anywhere in the world. Grenadans have class.

 
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With the whole family

With the whole family on board every day has been full of good times, so much so that I have no time to write. We have traveled the islands of St. Lucia, St. Vincent, Bequia and now bobbing up and down in Canouan.

St. Lucia’s snorkeling is fantastic, closet to a scuba dive through coral gardens. Anchored in the middle of Anse la Raye we took the dinghy (all 8 of us) around the point to an isolated beach and came in with a crash through the surf onto the steep sand. After we all swam off the beach, 5 of us snorkeled a half mile back to the INNcredible Sea Lodge.

Off to Soufriere we grabbed a mooring right along the cliffs in the north bay where the snorkeling is fantastic, the best so far, and right off the boat. The next morning a few of us jumped in for a long snorkel up to the bat cave and back. Returning to the boat I discovered that one of the mooring lines had broken. I retied and soon thereafter it broke, not our lines but the mooring itself. Thinking the other line was secure I moved in for a closer inspection only to see that the only line left was somehow still holding on, not within a loop but around a knot at the end of a line. I swam as fast as I could to get up onto the boat before it broke way. Our boat was so close to the cliff that if we broke loose within a few minutes we would be on the rocks. We released our lines and abandoned this mooring, thankful we made it through the night here, and motored to the southside of the bay at the base of Petit Piton and with a local’s advice chose a newer mooring and tied to it. While here we spent the day at near perfect beach with a handful of locals showing up to swim on this Sunday afternoon. Andrew and David explored a little and returned after Andrew climbed a Papaya tree (technically a plant) with those wonderful fruits. A local brought us mangoes and prickly fruit too.

Next morning Molly and Scuba dived with local Divemaster Chester in his bright pink long pants and ball cap which he wears above and below the water (you can’t miss him wherever he is). We dove the Coral Gardens at the base of Gros Peton.

Then we were in for a long run down the island all the way to its southern tip at Veiux Fort where we anchored for the night. The winds are fierce at this anchorage because there is little buffering from the low lying hills to windward but the anchor holds just fine. From here the next morning was our big open ocean crossing of about 26 miles to the tip of St. Vincent. My family was in for there first offshore sailing experience complete with 20-35 knot winds and 2+ meter seas wacking us sideways as we sailed with the main on its third reef and the jib reefed too. Nonetheless we were sailing 7-9 knots moving this 45 ton catamaran off to a new country – St. Vincent and the Grenadines. As we sailed to the lee of St Vincent we got relief from the swells and variable winds with downpours from passing squalls. The tall mountains that come right to the sea are lush with vegetation in many shades of green including steep fields of the Rastafarian herb for which this rugged part of the island is well known and off limits to the curious. We tucked into the small Troumaka Bay where the water is so deep that we had to get up so close to the beach to drop our anchor and stern tied to a coconut tree on shore that the stern of the INNcredible was in 5 feet of water about 15 feet from shore. We were the only boat here except for a large vintage steamer built in 1930s called the Nahlin that was anchored way out in the deep water. This private ship was built for a wealthy woman back then who took the ship around the world in 1936. The ship has been restored and is now on a reenactment of that round the world voyage 77 years later. We met one of its crew who was snorkeling and discovered the ship has 24 crew and only two guests, the names of which he wouldn’t release.

So we had Troumaka Bay all to ourselves and a few locals, one of whom paddled around the little bay line-fishing and pulled up to the boat with an amazing catch and sold us the big one… to be continued.

Brian

Captain of the Inncredible Sea Lodge

 
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Happy New Year St Lucian Style

An actual rare but classic sunset, clear to the horizon, let the sun dip into the warm Caribbean Sea saying goodbye to 2012. The sun made no promises or resolutions as it disappeared but I’m hoping it will be back in 2013.

Mile-wide crescent shaped Rodney Bay had more than a hundred sailboats at anchor, INNcredible Sea Lodge dropped its hook up front about a futbol field off the sandy beach. We were positioned to take in the purported fireworks. As dusk gave way to night the only evidence that alluded one to believe a festive night was likely was the throbbing sounds from the world’s most annoying speakers connected to not one but two live and obnoxious DJs. As a matter of fact, I’m writing this 7 hours after they started making their noise and there’s no sign of them quitting. This is a job for some Navy seals to swim in undetected and find the source and pull the plug. I don’t have those qualifications but I may volunteer for Mission Possible. The scene started with four or five musical disturbances distributed up and down the beach but this one dominated.

More boats kept showing up into the Bay, all sizes from the dinkyest dinghy to an overcrowded flashing catamaran day cruiser, filling in among the anchored sailboats taking position for the anticipated light show. On the shore people gathered and soon it looked likes Roman Legions lined up ready for battle. There was more than a thousand sandaled revelers waiting patiently for the first signs of action. Occasionally a red flare would streak the sky followed by nothing. The moon rose. That was exciting but that was 9 o’clock or so. On the water and the land, every one was moving into position.

The last minutes of 2012 faded away. Baboom! The battle began complete with cries from those Roman Legions ashore. The sky lit up with fired works coming from 4,5 maybe 6 positions, from behind the hills and right on the beaches. The colors burst, streaked and spun and lit up the starry sky in live 3D. The sound effects raised the level of excitement to a finale but the moment seemed to sustain itself beyond her expectations. Bringing on the new year was hard at work and wasn’t ready to shoot its last load just yet.

From the deck of the INNcredible my vantage to take in this spectacle was superb. Unlike Napolean’s very organized approach to the fired works of battle, St Lucian style fireworks are pure anarchy with no coordination, no orchestration just plain chaos, spectacular chaos.

Happy New Year every one,

from the Captain and first Mate (Andrew is fast asleep already) of the INNcredible Sea Lodge

 
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An INNcredible crew member speaks out after crossing the Atlantic

INNcredible Sea Lodge in the Caribbean

INNcredible Sea Lodge in the Caribbean

I just crossed the Atlantic with Brian Fitzpatrick on his 45 foot Catamaran the INNcredible Sea Lodge, There were 6 of us on board. I am back on land and at work and all the normal things are back. What is normal though? I do not have anything to compare it with regarding sailing as I have never been in a sailboat before, but I have to say, I had a great time. We were out 17 days at sea and actually on the boat for 5 weeks, time went by fast. Once under way we were on watch shifts of 6 hours and off for 9 so we rotated through the days no-one with the same shift each time and an opportunity to fish and sleep and watch movies (really) as we wanted to.

The fact that it was a Catarmaran meant that it did not lean over the whole time like a conventional single hulled yacht, so we had a relatively level platform and a lot of room. The boat has four bedrooms and four bathrooms with showers. Once I got used to walking around with the 2 to 3 meter heaving motion of the boat it was all fine. I never got seasick, not at all, and stopped taking seasickness pills after day 3.
That was my main concern. I had every kind of seasickness remedy with me and weaned myself off them and survived. I was even gutting and filleting Dorado (mahi mahi) and easting fresh sushi at sea. We caught 3 Dorado and a Barracuda, all of which we ate. The Dorado were sushi eaten raw with wasabi that Gaynor had the forsight to send along with me, and soy sauce on little onion scallops. The Barracuda was made into INNcredible Sea Nuggets in breadcrumbs and garlic and we ate it all except the teeth. A big fish did pull an entire rod and reel overboard though, and on the other rod, the whole 500 yards of 100 Lb line was taken, probably by a monster tuna or marlin I think. The ones that got away. With the loss of tackle, those fish cost about $280 each. Who said sushi was cheap?

The main halyard at the top of the mast for the Jennaker foresail and Spinnaker was a cheap arrangement and four

The main halyard at the top of the mast for the Jennaker foresail and Spinnaker was a cheap arrangement and four Lagoon 450 boats had the same problem that we did.

Lagoon 450 boats had the same problem that we did. It did not rotate well under load and chafed the line in about 5 hours, (a bit quick on a 17 day sail, so we could not use that sail. Most of the sailing was on a reach or broad reach, but as the wind came around from the east as we entered the Trades, we went on wing on wing with the mainsail. The main cannot swing out too far on a Cat’ because of the shrouds on each side and so with the main at 45 degrees to Starboard and the jib out to port we got up to 9 knots and made up a lot of the time we lost not being able to use the Jennaker.
The autopilot needed a break too as the reach was working the rudder a lot in those swells and that is a big electrical draw. We sailed for 4 or 5 days with this set-up and the boat charged through the nights and days like a truck all trimmed up and nice with everything coming at us from behind, waves, wind and weather. Days came and went and the sun and moon rose and fell, squalls overtook us with wind and warm rain, days came and went and we really did not know what day it was without working it out. Also because we were on “boat time” which was GMT, by the end of it were were having breakfast at noon and dinner at midnight. We saw the cycle of a moon and went from full to no moon. No moon at night 1500 miles offshore is pretty dark.

There was no rationing because we were loaded with food and wine.

There was no rationing because we were loaded with food and wine. The boat has a gross weight of 50 tons. We did try to use little fresh water just in case the de-salinator broke down. We had movies in the Salon in the evenings after dinner with the sound upstairs for the person on watch to listen to. All the while the boat heaved, but you get used to it. We saw hundreds of pilot whales that passed the boat for two days and they loved Alison Krause and Joey and Rory. Not so keen on Bob Marley though. They heard it through the hull because as a sailboat we were not running any engines. They came alongside, some 30 feet long and rolled on their sides and we could see the eye checking us out before they effortlessly accelerated ahead. The nights when the sky was clear were amazing with so many layers of stars that we do not see from land and there were meteorites that fell every minute or so all night long.
Some just a quick line in the sky and others a long bright streak and a bright flash that lit up the boat and made you look around. Up there at the helm there was always a flask of tea ready which was very civilized.

View out the back of the INNcredible Sea Lodge

We had warm nights and we had squalls with blustery winds and warm rain.

We had warm nights and we had squalls with blustery winds and warm rain.
The sea was 85 degrees F. I did not wear shoes for 17 days and we did not shave much either. I slept like a log in the 2 meter seas. I was in the aft port cabin, double bed and my own bathroom. Luxury. When in there night or day depending on watch shifts, I slept like a log. I had the generator droning sometimes, the autopilot servo buzzing, the water rushing past, waves would slap the inside hulls and sometimes it sounded like the boat was coming apart with all the flexing and pounding. The bed was heaving up and down, but I slept so well. I missed one complete night of rough weather in 8 hours of sleep. There had been waves, sail changes, engines, squalls, rain, running about and shouting etc and I missed it all and got up for breakfast oblivious to everyone’s amazement. I always have been able to sleep in trains, planes and boats for some reason. About two days out from St Lucia in 15,000 feet of water we pulled down all the sails and stopped, or “heaved to” and had a swim. If you were cunning, which I was, You shampooed you hair before jumping in for two reasons, one was to get a free hair-wash and the other was to make yourself taste bad to the sea monsters that obviously do live in those depths and were looking up at us.

St Lucia

Once we pulled in to St Lucia at 4am to a welcome rum punch and a tentative walk on “land”and got settled, I went 65 feet up the mast and re-invented the jennaker halyard block attach point. I thought I was going home after we arrived but Gaynor changed the tickets and came out and we stayed another week with us. We sailed to Martinique and back for some diving and snorkling and exploring and during the inter-island run, we ran up the Jennaker and it all seemed to work. I joked that I had hoped to no longer be on the boat when that pulley was tested.
All INN all a great trip. I’ve sailed once and it was the Atlantic. I’d do it again. Now I have to sell a few planes.

 

 

 

Mark Pilkington
INNcredible Sea Lodge Crew

 
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