The Angst of Antigua

April 2008

The call for help echoed from a distance. It wasn’t a pan-pan-pan or an SOS from the VHF radio, it was the underlying tones from voices of some cruising friends—one recently arrived in the Twin Cities, the other from their boat in Antigua. My friend Tom had come back to Minneapolis to befriend his mother in her last weeks of pancreatic cancer. My dear friend Rose, his wife, remained in Antigua with their 37-foot Alberg. She’d been stranded there five weeks before I arrived, while Tom’s mother was out-living the doctor’s predictions.

Listening to each of these voices made my decision to get to Antigua as soon as possible. Rose is fully capable of handling S/V Sojourn; but the responsibility of protecting one’s home is heavy. Rose and Tom have owned Sojourn for eight years, spending most of that time preparing her for long term cruising. The first step was getting accustomed to a rather skinny boat, though this was an upgrade from a 33-foot Tartan. The next six years were spent preparing her for the long-term service she was to provide her caretakers. And deck her out they did. While they sailed Sojourn around Lake Superior during the summers, Tom and Rose had masterfully added elements to make her seaworthy and homey. Her tiny rear end has a wind generator, a stern anchor, a wind controlled steering system, a propane grill and atop the bimini is a huge solar panel. Canvas was added overhead and around the cockpit to protect her passengers from sun, splash and cold.

Inside the cabin feels much the same. A few small paintings have been added between the side ports, there’s a double stack of books, and behind the fold-away table is the television and DVD player that is a must for slow days. Tucked in with their electronics is the antenna that’s used for Wi-Fi connection, and a ham radio sits nearby the VHF.

“Good Morning, it is Wednesday, April 17, 2008; this is Rose (missing Tom) on S/V Sojourn. Welcome to the Coconut Telegraph. We meet here every morning at 0800 on 4060, using 4030 as an alternate frequency when conditions require. The purpose of the Coconut Telegraph is to keep cruisers connected and to share information. Please let other cruisers know about this net.” Sailors anywhere in the Windward and Leeward Islands, and with relays from the Bahamas to Venezuela, can tune in. Volunteers man the radio each day, with a lead moderator and relay’s to make sure the distance is covered. It’s a great network for keeping in contact with people and more importantly for keeping account of boats. It’s like one big caring family. It’s also a great way to share local news, concerns, and meeting announcements—such as debit card fraud that had hit cruisers having used ATM machines in Antigua, with some people’s accounts being affected by fraudulent withdrawals of up to $15,000. Even the locals tune in. This particular item attracted the attention of the security personnel of the Bank of Antigua who showed up at the announced time when cruisers were discussing the matter.

During her five weeks in Falmouth Harbour on the south side of Antigua, Rose had toured the island and created quite a network for herself among the cruisers who had started to arrive for Classic Week (April 17-22), followed closely by Antigua’s Race Week (April 27 to May 3.). She got to know many of the locals, even volunteering at a nearby school. But after spending five weeks in Falmouth Harbour, she was more than ready to see some other parts of the island only accessible by boat and was determined to explore Barbuda as well. Before taking off though, we sought two weeks of provisions at the local outdoor market and then the upscale Epicurean grocery store via local buses over bumpy and potholed asphalt roads that make Chicago’s roads seem smooth. With all kinds of food stashed away in various cubbyholes on Sojourn and her tanks and multiple water jugs filled, we were set to go.

One last listen to the 6:30 a.m. weather report the next morning and we pulled anchor, heading for Deep Bay on the northwestern part of the island. For our shakedown cruise, winds were to be 15 to 20 knots out the east northeast so we were close hulled going up Antigua’s western coast, in five to six foot seas. Four hours later, we had dropped sails, motored into Deep Bay past the 1890’s bark Andes, off Five Island Peninsula marked by a buoy, seen the bow at low tide, had safely anchored and were snorkeling the wreck.

Next morning the 6:30 a.m. weather report again suggested 15 to 20 knot winds, with seas in the six to eight foot range for our crossing over to Barbuda. We had partly sunny skies and following seas. Rose had said the winds were generally underestimated, so we expected the ENE 20 knot winds which blew our way. The wind steerage system relieved us of continuous steering, though vigilance was required to make adjustments in this kind of chop. We’d scheduled our departure based on the conditions of our arrival as the cruising guide suggested—to come in with the sun overhead or from behind. That became our mantra for anchoring in Barbuda.

The wide open approach to Barbuda’s Eleven-Mile Beach didn’t hint at the numerous coral heads in Low Bay that could have sabotaged our thoughts of a nice leisurely visit had we not studied the charts and talked with the locals. Rose navigated through the dark spots with little help from the computer’s navigation program, which showed us ashore when we were still two or three miles out. We couldn’t imagine what caused this variation because of its seeming accuracy in Antigua. We found it much easier to anchor the Alberg than beach the dingy for our shore excursions given the tumbling wave action on the beach. We laughed as we talked about how the ocean against the sand looked like a swimming pool, knowing that pools are designed to imitate beaches and oceans.

We walked the miles-long beach, being awed by the silkiness of the sand on our bare feet, the pink cast provided by myriad fragments of pink shells, and the flocks of sand pipers on their short but quick little legs that led us down the beach, to the now closed Beach House Resort, and back again. We sloshed our way around the southern shore of the mangrove-lined Codrington Lagoon, finally making our way to the only paved road on the island. We caught a ride to the small, sleepy, almost vacant-looking town of Codrington. The population of goats, horses and donkeys rivals that of humans on this 62-square mile coral atoll. Like the Galapagos Islands, Barbuda is known for their frigate birds, whose males add their bright red color to the mangroves during mating season.

Keeping the mantra of sun overhead or behind in our heads, we pulled anchor and headed for the southern part of the island. More coral heads, some a mere 7-feet down. With six to eight foot seas, Sojourn could have been driven down hard to meet them. We were diligent to ensure this introduction didn’t occur, but the clouds were villainous so we used our fallback position, anchoring at Palmetto Point. Even negotiating this was tense, trying to determine what was coral and what was sea grass.

Next day we were really getting used to scanning the sea near and far to differentiate the coral from the sea grass while the fight between the sun and clouds continued. When it got to six feet, we tried to think light. After what seemed a long time, though was only an hour, we were able to send a friendly yet sympathetic greeting to a small fishing boat in which two men, while working on their defunct engine, also marked the turning point for our anchorage, the shallowest one yet. We were more than happy to dig out the snorkeling gear once again and plunge into the cool waters near Spanish Point, noting the mere one to two feet under the keel. This time we were rewarded with mother nature’s gifts of purple and golden sea fans, various sea plumes, sea rods, barred hamlets, juvenile trumpetfish, yellowtail parrotfish, coneys, banded and four eye butterflyfish, of course, numerous blue tang and a pair of spotted eagle rays within eight feet. Then there was a crab and two of the biggest lobsters we’d ever seen parading out in the open, the sandy bottom being their stage for this evening performance during our night snorkel. Life is good.

The upcoming weather forecast caused us to cut our visit to Barbuda a day short. Though it had calmed a bit while we‘d been gallivanting around the island, things were predicted to pick up on the high seas. Winds were behind us from NNE at about 15 to 20 knots as we made our way in the five to six foot seas. Second reef in with a preventer, 110 jib and Sojourn and her crew were happy. Oh how I wished we had a spinnaker, though we were able to sail wing-on-wing for a while. Our mantra was again in practice both when leaving Spanish Point and heading through Antigua’s North Sound. We angled our way to the northwest side of Antigua only to go directly east. We slipped past the narrow channel south of Long Island, skirted the airport, and the electrical plant on our way down to Parham, a town left behind by progress. After strolling through Parham the next day, we motored off to anchor by Redhead and Rabbit Islands for more snorkeling around Guiana Island and Greater Bird Island. We used the dingy to explore the area. Try as we did, we were hard pressed to find any good snorkeling in the area. We must have looked like espionage agents as we hiked around the islands in our wetsuits, taking pleasure in the geysers, rock framed windows and white long tailed birds playing in the wind currents. We gazed in wonder at pelicans on what we called Pelican Tree Island--with ten or so pelicans weighing down the branches of a single tree. This was sheer relaxation.

The sail back to Falmouth Harbour was anything but relaxing. The winds and seas had indeed picked up—seven to eight foot seas with southeast winds gusting to 27 knots. Sojourn’s wind steerage couldn’t handle it so we manned the wheel to get her through the waves. We split up the trip at Jolly Harbour, tacking more on the last day than we’d done in the two weeks prior. We welcomed the calm of Falmouth Harbour, gliding along with the classic sailboats that were arriving for Classic Week which was about to begin, though sad that our time together was waning.

On my last full day in this sunny climate, we hiked to the top of Shirley Point amidst the goats, sheep and even a mongoose, to take in the vision of the classic boats, new and old, that would be competing over the next few days, bringing life to Antigua only for it to return to its slow island routine after Race Week.