Antigua Sailing Week

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Well, Sailing Week 2001 is over, and we've escaped more or less unscathed. When we were in Antigua in January, we had arranged to sail with Sandy Mair, an expatriate Scot, on Streaker, his Soverel 30. We returned to Antigua on April 23, a week before the start of Sailing Week, and discussed practice plans with Sandy. He said he was extremely busy at work, but the rest of the crew could take the boat out, and suggested Friday as a good time to do that. However, despite our repeated efforts to get the other crew members to set a time on Friday for practice, it never happened.

We were not without things to do in the absence of practice. We went out in the dinghy with Ken Signorello and watched the start of one of the Classic Yacht Series, and Rob served on a protest committee for that regatta. The classic boats were an awesome sight; they ranged from 40' traditional workboats up to the 130' J boats, Endeavor and Valsheeda, who essentially match-race their way around the course. One of the big winners was Savannah, which we had admired in January as she received a full coat of new varnish. We're pretty sure she got another coat before the Classic Yacht Series, as the "Concours d'Elegance" trophy for the prettiest boat is highly prized. Then, the day after Classic Yacht, we noticed that her brightwork had been masked off again -- ready for another coat.

Rob located (but failed to catch) a lobster so large that we were afraid it wouldn't fit into any pot on board, and Andi sighted the biggest barracuda to date. We stripped and revarnished the cockpit table. Rob attempted to clean out the intake pipes from the forward head using the "snake", in order to eliminate the odor of hydrogen sulfide it emits regularly. Things were going well, with lots of muddy sediment coming out, when he managed to get the snake caught in one of the joints; so we had to dismantle the entire system. The forward head is still out of action a week later.

We did get to practice on Saturday, the day before the start of Sailing Week. We got our first premonition of things to come when we found that one of Streaker's stern pulpit stanchions was fastened to the deck with duct tape. Additionally, we were missing the bowman, Charley, whom Sandy had excused because he "has sailed on Streaker many times." Practice consisted of maybe six tacks, lunch and a bottom cleaning at anchor near Eric Clapton's house, an emergency as we tried to clear Eric's rocks, and a main-only run back to port, after we discovered we had wrapped the spinnaker sheet around the prop.

The crew turned out to be pretty rough. In addition to Sandy and us (I trimmed mainsheet and Andi did pit), there was Paul Jenkins, whom we had met at Shirley Heights 3 months earlier. He's in his late 30's, an ex-J/24 owner from Boston who took off the winter from his contracting business to hang out in Antigua. He's unofficial mayor of the little settlement of Marsh Village, which is populated entirely by people 10 years younger than he, who are just off boats, waiting for boats to leave, or between boats. They are all pretty much drunk and/or stoned all the time (Paul told us he had decided to count the number of days he stayed sober and straight, but gave up after a couple of months when the tally remained at zero). Ian, a 20-something experienced sailor (he has actually crewed on Valsheeda released jib sheets and took up the runners on tacks, and flew the chute downwind. He was excellent. Charley, the bowman, is an Antiguan born in Dominica. He's Sandy's trusted foreman at work, and can do no wrong in Sandy's eyes. During the course of the week, he once forgot to attach the halyard to the spinnaker, once the sheet for the #1 genoa through the #2 lead, once rigged the spinnaker sheet through the bow pulpit, and once signaled for us to hold back on the starting line when we were 2 lengths back with only 10 seconds to go. Despite these problems, Sandy happily awarded Charley the 'player of the match' award at the end of the week. Charley also found the marks for us, having incredible good eyes. We couldn't understand a word he said, but his arm gestures were clear. Sonia, a young thing from the Boston area who hadn't raced much, was aboard for the last 4 of 5 races, and maintained a cheerful attitude.

Finally, there was Chris, who is the son of an old friend of Sandy's and lives on the boat. Andi and I differ on Chris's value to the boat. She thinks he was totally useless, while I think he did a good job in emergencies -- for example, he climbed the mast to retrieve the halyard Charley forgot to attach. But I agree he was mostly useless. Each day, his assigned job was to pump the bilge. In 6 days of sailing, including the practice day, he never once managed to do this. Whenever Sandy talked about tacking (as in "maybe we should go soon, before we get to the layline"), Chris stood up and crossed the boat to the other side. Once he had almost fully sat down before he realized we weren't tacking.

There were parties featuring free rum on the two days before the regatta, but after that the parties were just informal dock (or beach) parties at whatever port we were in for the night. These were OK, but because of the huge crowds it was hard to meet anybody we knew. Every night, the entire rest of the Streaker crew, with the exception of Charley (who doesn't drink) got plastered. Andi and I had plenty to drink, but couldn't come close to holding our own with this gang. One morning the discussion on board before the start was an attempted reconstruction of the night before -- nobody could quite remember what bars they'd gone to, nor who was there, though they were pretty sure they were all together all night. (We'd gone back to Akka that night, so we couldn't help with the reconstruction

Antigua Sailing Week is quite different from the kind of racing we're used to. Except for the Olympic course one day, the one-a-day races are either point-to-point or strange modified windward-leewards with "dongles" and starboard roundings. The first race was essentially a long reach around the island to the opposite side. It would have been uneventful except that the wind died (for the first time since mid-December) and it poured so hard that we couldn't see anything. As the slowest boat in our class, we were hurt by the dropping wind, as we tried to keep our time against boats that had already finished. We finished 7th of 18 boats. The next day's race was the Olympic course. Sandy's pre-race strategy was to "tack on the shifts" so I kept close track of the shifts, which were oscillating, about 10 degrees each. In the whole race, he never once tacked on a header. We came in 8th. The third day was a race all the way back around the island, about 30 miles of which maybe 15 miles was a beat up the beach in big ocean waves. We probably tacked 30 times, and Paul was exhausted. We didn't do that well -- about 8th again -- but we were tied for 6th overall at the end of the day.

The fourth day (Wednesday) was a lay day. We joined most of the Streaker crew and several other yachties, including a fair number of South Africans, at a one-day cricket match between West Indies and South Africa. It was a hoot. International cricket is ordinarily played over five days, and the rules are a bit different for a one-day, which speeds up the play (they don't take morning and afternoon teas or break for lunch, for instance), but it is still a leisurely game. In contrast with baseball (or virtually any sport in the US), there is applause for good plays, no matter the team, and everyone stayed until the end and beyond, despite a lopsided victory for South Africa (we're not going to go into the intricacies of scoring). Anyway, we got a much better understanding and appreciation of the game. Seems like a nice thing to do on a lazy afternoon, when you could get into a position to take a nap. Or to drink your way through, which is what the rest of the Streaker crew did (according to one count, about 10 yachties consumed 3 cases of beer -- before noon).

It was back to racing on Thursday, for a 24 mile windward-leeward race. The wind was quite heavy but we chose to use the #1 jib, which was probably a mistake since we spent a lot of time heeled too far over. The videos that night at one of the bars showed us going sideways. We seemed to have good speed, but still finished 7th. For this race, and for Friday's, they started the big boats first and our fleet last. This meant that at the end of the day we were alone on the ocean, still trying to make up our time on boats that had finished. But no matter which order of the fleets, there were always some interesting crossings with the big guys. In the Olympic course, Morning Glory, the 80-plus ft. boat raced by Team New Zealand, came over the top of us, blanketing us for 15 seconds or so. We took to counting the bodies on the rails, getting over 20 on many of these mega-yachts, and over 30 on Mari Cha III, whom we had to duck on another crossing. Ducking 120' boats takes some time! One of the kids from Marsh Village got a last-minute ride on Encore, one of the 3 boats (one per class, of course) that are racing here which are owned by Tom (?) Dolan, who also owns the NY Knicks and Cablevision. The kid was given a nice duffel bag with 5 crew shirts, 2 pairs of shorts, belts (one for the khaki shorts; one for the navy ones), boat shoes and gloves, along with a schedule with the day they were to be worn. Amazing.

Friday was the final day, and the wind got a little lighter, but not enough to favor us. Unfortunately, the second windward leg was a single tack beat, which gave the bigger boats an advantage. We all thought we were sailing well, but still finished 8th, the next-to-last boat to finish the day. This made us 9th overall in our fleet for the week. We were disappointed, but still had fun with a compatible crew. Would we do it again? Tough to say, right after a race is done, especially if you haven't done as well as you like. The racing is clearly geared to larger boats, so we'd want a larger boat to sail in. But racing is never out of our blood, so we'll never say never.

But today we're back to life aboard Akka. We'll finish the head repair, get some fuel and take off this evening for St. Martin, which is about a 14-16 hour sail. More later.

Run to St. Maarten:

We arrived in St. Maarten on May 6, having taken just 13 hours to do the 100 miles from Antigua. We were conservative during the night, running wing-and-wing. Just after dawn, we caught a 'Little Tunny', which is a kind of tuna (sushi for supper). Then we put up the spinnaker and really flew, averaging 9 knots. We took it down when the wind built above 22 knots and 'Cedric' the autopilot started to broach on a regular basis. Andi was cooking bacon in one pot and Thai rice (for sushi) in another, and did not endorse the broaching; yet Rob was reading a biography of Castro and didn't want to steer. So back to wing-and-wing for the last part, and we arrived safe and happy.

The entire cabin is now occupied by the spinnaker, which somehow got all wrapped around itself on the takedown and needed to be untangled. Tonight, into the bag with it. Tomorrow, Dutch boat supply stores and French supermarkets. Soon, the forward head.

We arrived in St. Maarten on May 6, to spend 3 days there. The use of the word "spend" is deliberate. The island is duty-free, so it's where cruisers come to buy boat stuff and provisions. It's also where cruise ships come so their passengers can buy stuff like diamonds and t-shirts.

On our way south in January, we had stayed in St. Martin, the French side of the island. This time, we anchored in Simpson Bay Lagoon on the Dutch side, because of the proximity of chandleries and big stores suitable for provisioning. The lagoon is huge and completely protected; boats enter through a cut spanned by a swing bridge which opens just 3 times a day: 0730, 0900, and 1730. The parade of boats at 1730 provides a bar alongside the bridge with free entertainment. The lagoon has one major disadvantage: The anchorage is at the end of the airport runway, and the jets take off right overhead. There are only 5 or 6 flights a day, and you quickly learn the schedule, but it's a pretty amazing sight and sound. The water is surprisingly clean and clear for an enclosed body of water, but still not something you'd want to swim in, or clean the bottom of your boat in, or use for dishwashing. On the other hand, two major chandleries are located there, as well as sailmakers and other boat workshops, and a dozen or so bars and restaurants. And you can go by dinghy to the wonderful restaurants at Marina Royale on the French side.

The two parts of the island are very different. The French side has, like all of the French islands here, maintained its very French atmosphere. The language heard and spoken in the streets and shops and restaurants, by both blacks and whites, is French; the bread is French; and the wine and beer are French. In contrast, St. Maarten is totally Americanized, down to the Burger Kings, Pizza Huts and KFCs, and Bud and Coors Light beer. The primary language is English, and American dollars are the prevailing currency. At a drug store, we saw prices in something called "ANG", which turned out to be Antilles Netherlands Guilders. We asked if this currency really exists, and the clerk said "Of course." She opened the cash register drawer to show us, and sure enough, there were compartments for American one, five, ten, and twenty dollar bills, and one compartment holding all denominations of ANG. We asked her what language school instruction is in, and she replied "Dutch and English." Then we asked her what language she speaks at home, and she rather sheepishly responded, "English." We heard no Dutch spoken and saw only one sign in Dutch. As a Dutch cruising couple said to us, "Why should they learn it? It will do them no good." Kinda sad.

While trying to provision, we experienced our first rainy weather of the

trip, as the first tropical low of the season came through. For a day and a

half, it ranged from drizzles to sometimes torrential downpours -- enough so

that Andi could take an early morning shower in the cockpit. We timed

indoor chores with dinghy rides to stores between rain showers, and managed

to stock up on all the boat parts, French wines and cheeses, and diesel fuel

in time to make the 5:30 pm. bridge opening on May 10 to leave for St.

Croix.

We arrived in STX after a boring overnight passage during which we motored

in very light winds. The moon, almost full, was lovely, but the "sailing"

sucked. Despite the calm winds, there was a strange leftover swell which

produced a set of cross waves about every 15 minutes that rocked the boat

from side to side with remarkable force. This made sleeping hard work as

you had to brace properly and found yourself anticipating the next roll. At

dawn, the wind finally picked up to 14 knots and we were able to set main

and spinnaker and enjoy 3 hours of a glorious run. It's apparent that the

Christmas and trade winds are fading, and the summer calms and soon-to-come

hurricane season are setting in.

We spent 5 days in St. Croix, enjoying this lovely island, but

even more, enjoyed the hospitality of our friends Cece and Doug DeRue. As

much fun as it is to visit new islands and make new acquaintances, there's

nothing like getting hugs from old friends! We got as many as possible!

We anchored right off the town of Christiansted, between the waterfront bars

from which we get serenaded nightly (until 2 a.m.) by Jimmy Buffett

wanna-bees and/or steel bands, and the seaplane dock and "runway" where we

watched take-offs and landings all day. Christiansted is one of the

loveliest towns we've seen. The old fort and numerous government and other

buildings have been restored and painted a beautiful rich yellow, and many

buildings have red roofs. Most of the sidewalks are arcaded, with cool,

shaded archways. Since our visit last year, the town has built a boardwalk

around most of the waterfront, with shaded benches that always seem

occupied. The stores are tourist oriented (jewelry and t-shirts abound),

but seem tasteful -- like Gustavia, St. Barth. Surprisingly, there is no

KFC, no McDonalds, and no Burger King in Christiansted.

We spent much of the weekend at the St. Croix Yacht Club with Cece and Doug.

On Saturday, Rob and Doug messed around with Doug's Nacra catamaran, then

went for a sail to test their handiwork. They had neglected to check out

one of the trapeze lines, so Rob got to enjoy a swim as well as a sail!

Meanwhile, Cece and Andi did laundry (thanks to Cece's mom's washer and

dryer!) and talked and talked. On Sunday, Rob borrowed a Laser from another

club member and raced. Doug, Cece and Andi took out the J/24 to watch and

do some snorkeling. The Laser sailing made for a very happy birthday

present.

The DeRues kindly lent us a car so that we could buy more provisions. In

addition to the supermarket and a Costco-like warehouse, Andi went to the

KMart and just wandered the aisles, enjoying the selection and quantities.

The boat is now sitting much lower in the water, and the storage cupboards

are quite full.

Cece, who is justifiably proud of her homeland, informed Rob that, like

Martinique, St. Croix also had a Robert Trent Jones-designed golf course.

So Rob persuaded her to take an afternoon off work, and they enjoyed the

tough and beautiful Carambola course. Rob says he set a new record for lost

balls... but he had fun!

Meanwhile, our long-time friends, Jodie and Dennis Hollinger-Lant, took us

up on the once-in-a-lifetime offer, and will join us for our trip to Cuba.

We're very excited about seeing them again. Our daughter Lisa was the

flower girl at their wedding 25 years ago; Dennis will officiate at Lisa and

Guild's wedding this fall.

It's with some reluctance that we leave St. Croix to head for Puerto Rico,

then on to the Dominican Republic. We'll miss Cece and Doug's company, but

are looking forward to the next adventure!