Getting to Know Tortola

Envision awaking as chickens walk by your porch, walking for 20 minutes to the grocery store along a busy two lane road on which there are sometimes three cars abreast as you follow a herd of goats that has just smartly, in a single file, mastered their way around the iron grates on the driveways designed to keep them off the main road, flagging down a taxi on dusty roads to get into Road Town for a fee of $3, then having to pay $10 to get the same distance west of Road Town. These are just a few of the things I’ve learned in my first couple of weeks living here. All these things are taken in stride in the BVIs.

My life here has been simple. I dive at 8:00 in the morning, two tanks, helping out where I can in preparation for my upcoming internship. I’m learning the ropes so to speak, but this time is about diving, not sailing, though some of dive shop people do have sailboats. There seems to be a real division of ex-pats and locals. All of the people I’ll be working with are ex-pats. I encounter the locals at the grocery store, the laundry mat, etc. Apparently it’s normal to hitchhike here, but I’ve been using the taxi service.

Hodges Creek is on the east end which is not touristy, though there are some charter companies and another dive shop nearby (but that one doesn’t work with cruise ships). It’s fairly close to the airport, and lots of dive sites. My efficiency apartment is a five minute walk from the dive shop. It’s pretty basic, including large cockroaches which is not my favorite thing, but is standard in tropical locales. The electricity may or may not be on, the water may or may not be hot, the sliding glass door lock is really a stick to jamb it shut, but it has a lot of light since one full wall is windows. Starting in April, I get a roommate, so that will add a new twist to living down here.

I’ve dived the RMS Rhone several times now, but have sought out other sites when offered as I know I’ll be diving the Rhone a lot when I start my internship. A former intern has been my dive buddy for many of these fun dives, so I’ve just followed along, getting lost in all the fish and coral. Guess I really should be working on my navigation, but these are fun dives and the internship hasn’t started yet. I’ve seen scrawled cowfish, queen triggerfish, a baby shark, turtles, eels, schools of squid, and so much more. I must admit I have been spoiled by diving in Wakatobi last fall. The seahorses here are six or eight inches, not six or eight millimeters. No devastating crown of thorns though.

Interlude in the BVIs

Am I on vacation? It seems like it in a way, yet I’m preparing for my next experience. Having just turned 55 (oh, I still can’t believe it), I’m going to be an intern. How many 55-year old interns do you know? Not too many I’m assuming. Starting the first of April, I’ll be interning at Sail Caribbean Divers in Hodges Creek on Tortola, BVI. They’ve been looking out for me already—providing an efficiency apartment two weeks early and allowing me to dive all I want before I start my internship. How kind is that? I’m getting to know the staff and current interns, have met my mentor, have been invited to go sailing with one of the staff this week, and plan to go to hear some of the staff play at a gig this weekend. Some of the staff are sailors and I’ve just heard about Friday night racing, so I’ll be checking that out this week. I might not be able do this again as I probably will be working.

I cleared off Timeless Passage last Wednesday, moved into my efficiency apartment with all the leftover groceries from the boat, then checked into the dive shop where I learned I was now illegally in the country. The boat captain had checked me into the BVIs for one day, not eight or 30, but one, meaning I was already a week overdue to leave the country. I delayed dealing with this for a day since I wanted to enjoy the next day, being it was my 55th birthday, and I’m glad I did. Immigration does not tolerate illegal immigrants, so I was off to St. Thomas, part of the US Virgin Islands the next day. An hour ferry ride over, a few hours wandering around its capital, Charlotte Amalie and back again, and I’m now legal until April 15.

I chose to dive the RMS Rhone, both bow and stern, on my birthday. The Rhone is the most famous dive site in the BVIs, having sunk in a hurricane in 1867. She was a fast, sleek sail and steam engine driven 310’ iron boat in the service of delivering mail, cargo and passengers between England and the West Indies and South America. There are various stories about the sinking of the Rhone. What seems to be closest to the truth is that a late season hurricane hit the BVIs on 29 Oct. 1867. The Rhone and the Conway were anchored at the mouth of Great Harbour, Peter Island. Their respective captains, Captain Wooley and Captain Hammock surmised the brewing storm was merely an early winter storm since hurricane season was thought to be over. Though hindsight shows that it would have been best to stay put, they decided to move passengers to the more stable Rhone, weigh anchor and head for the sheltered anchorage of Road Harbour. The Rhone’s anchor snagged, so Captain Wooley cut his 3000-pound chain and anchor. Now anchorless, he headed out to open sea now in the second half and stronger part of the hurricane. She was bashed against the rocks on the western tip of Salt Island and cut in half by the knife like edge of Black Rock Point. The cool Caribbean salt water combined with the heat of the steam engine caused a massive explosion killing all but 22 people.

Life is good now. I’ve been diving every day, running (actually walking) errands and relaxing in the rest of the day—catching up on emails and my blog, reading some, doing Sudoku, etc. Now I’m ready to start studying—chemistry, physics, physiology. Yes, there is a lot more to diving that I want to understand in order to be a good instructor. With that said, it’s time to stop procrastinating and hit the books.

Cruising on a Catamaran in the BVIs

Three of us hardened sailors moved over to a 38-foot catamaran for a second week of sailing, within sight of some 36 islands in the British Virgin Islands. Thirty-six islands but only 59 square miles of land mass, and a population of about 25,000 people. Many residents appear to be from other parts of the world, including the governor. This being a British Dependent Territory, the governor is sent in from the motherland, while the representatives are from the nine separate districts.

There was little time to rest on this boat. I had agreed to be cook for the week, and was also given the opportunity to partake in the catamaran class in order to be able to teach classes on a cat. If I wasn’t in the galley, I was on deck driving, managing lines, catching a mooring ball, anchoring, or docking the boat, and then there was the occasional dive, in which another diver and I shared the responsibility of leading the dives. Overall, this was another great experience, especially because I was being challenged beyond my comfort zone at times. I now have much more confidence in landing one of these things, in forward, yes, and even in reverse (though even after a full day of docking practice, I still want more experience with going backwards). Those dual engines sure make maneuvering easier. Thom interrupted my do a crew-overboard drill by making me jibe rather than my instinctual tacking, and I nailed it on the first try. I should take this as a sign that I am better at the helm than my confidence will admit.

We went to some of the usual areas— Marina Cay to hear Michael Bean, the Bitter End (Virgin Gorda) for the entertaining Jumbies and a trip to The Baths, Trellis Bay (Beef Island), Little Bay (Jost Van Dyke) for docking practice and watching the pelicans dive bomb for food, and lastly a night in the quiet of Little Harbour (Peter Island). We saw the Maltese Falcon, which reportedly had Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie onboard, along with a mini-submarine. The trip got even better when we deposited one of the crew on land. We did come back to port with one less person than we started with. Too much libation and rocky waves aren’t a good combination. Rather than take a risk, a passenger decided to check into a hotel.

As with most vacations, all too soon, some of us had to head back north. The final rush to get things packed up, and find out the ferry schedules weren’t optimal. Here’s hoping one crew member was able to make his connection back home. Little did I know that overhearing the conversation about the ferries would be of benefit to me in a few days, but more on that in the next installment. I was on to packing up for a move into land-based lodging.

The B’s: Bariloche, Buenos Aires, Bonaire, and the British Virgin Islands

Wow, what a busy few weeks. Even I can’t believe I was in Bariloche, Argentina three weeks ago, and am now in the British Virgin Islands. Just to give you an overview, I flew from Bariloche to Iguazu Falls to Buenos Aires for maybe 30 hours then on to the Twin Cities for 48 hours before setting off to Bonaire, where I spent five days, then jumped ship to sail to the BVIs. And now I’m to jump ship again today, and staying in the BVIs for two and a half months.

Three weeks ago I was enjoying the “Lake District” area in Argentina—Bariloche, a wonderful little city in the mountains. I could have luxuriated in this area longer, yet was looking forward to seeing the third largest falls in the world, having seen Niagara Falls in New York and Victoria Falls in Africa. Interesting to note that these three falls are all along country borders. Wonder if that’s just a coincidence. Anyway, Iguazu was nice as was Buenos Aires. There I visited the cemetery to see the tomb of Eva Peron and others buried in the city’s most esteemed cemetery, probably missing much of the local customs by not taking a tour to know how deep underground these tombs descend. You could see through some of the broken glass in the doors to the stairways going down to numerous wooden coffins. Others tombs were in immaculate order, though I had to laugh when I saw the cleaning supplies off to the side, or in some cases feather dusters left carelessly on the alters.

On my last day in Argentina, I actually escaped the big city for a day long bike ride through the small village an hour train’s ride northeast of the city. Having negotiated the Monday morning traffic to the square in which we were to meet the bike company, I was very glad I was not doing the city tour. Some of the main roads in the downtown area are easily eight or ten lanes wide. I spent the day on a perfectly adequate one speed bike with our guide and two charming young women from Brazil, who were excited about escaping Brazil’s Carnival and their first international vacation. Afterwards I visited a book store, not just an ordinary bookstore, but one of the top ten in the world according to the locals. It’s in an old theatre, like the State or Orpheum in the Twin Cities. Books are stashed everywhere, even in the side alcoves. The coffee shop is on stage.

It’s been such a whirlwind of travel I don’t even remember the flight back to the Twin Cities, other than running into Rudy Maxa of Savvy Traveler and PBS fame in the BA airport. Back in the Twin Cities, I had a list of things to do, primarily going though mail, getting my 2008 taxes done, doing laundry, picking up scuba gear, dropping off a broken camera lens, getting a well needed hair cut, doing grocery shopping and packing for the next three months—including a wish list for my cruising friends in Bonaire.

Off to the airport again, and some sleep. Luckily it was an early flight out—before the ten inches of snow fell in the Twin Cities. By that time I was in Bonaire with my friends Tom and Rose on Sojourn. Bonaire—land-based in 2008 and sea-based in 2009. The itinerary is in reverse this year—Bonaire, then the BVIs, though I’m spending much more time in the BVI’s this year—some sailing, though mainly I’m here for an internship with a local dive shop, and yet another course--to get certified for scuba instruction. After this, I’ll have no more excuses for not studying Spanish.

I’ve spent more time out of sight of land the past three months than in my entire life before that. Several stints on the Antarctic trip and now what turned into a five day crossing from Bonaire to the BVI’s via the southern side of San Juan and the Spanish Virgin Islands. We had a narrow weather window, that narrowed even more after we’d set out from Bonaire. The winds and waves picked up, mounting to an estimated twelve foot swells (though when we arrived we heard the seas had been forecasted to at least 15 feet). Nothing earth shattering, but it did make for a rocky passage, saving fresh water along the way because it was too bumpy to cook and take showers. The crew fell into the rhythm of the four-hour overnight shifts and on short days a two hour day shift. We had sails up the whole time, reefed of course, and unfortunately the motor was on much of the time to help push us through the waves. We left Bonaire on Wednesday, not realizing we wouldn’t see land again until Sunday. I was at the helm long enough that last night to see the dim glow of the distant lights of San Juan but succumbed to sleep before being able to say “Land ahoy!”

We cruised into Ponce, Puerto Rico for a day of rest, enjoying the local Sunday afternoon fest ivies by the water, the local fishing tournament and a very nice yacht club. We then overnighted to Vieques are in the Spanish Virgin Islands, and overnighted again to Sopher’s Hole in the BVIs. And after all that time at sea, or maybe I should say all that rocking and rolling at sea, I only had a few minutes of rocking and rolling in my head when stepping foot on land. Maybe it was that first ice cream that settled me down for being land based.

We had just enough time for a dive at the Indians before our farewell dinner at Pirate’s Bite off Norman Island. Today we head back to Tortola. I was glad to have been sailing on a monohull for this crossing. It was also comforting knowing we had the experience we needed for such a crossing--the owner, a fellow Wayzata Yacht Club racer and the owner of Northern Breezes, the sailing schools I teach for in the Twin Ciites, were both on board. During those overnight crossings, when conversation waned, thoughts crept into my mind as to whether we’d actually see land again. I wondered who would be able to hear us on the radio if we did make a mayday call. Were we too far out to sea to be heard? Well, luckily I didn’t have to know the answer to that question. We arrived safe and sound and I still had another week of sailing and diving, on a catamaran this time.