A Sail of Two Idiots (47 page)

Decisions, decisions …

W
e had narrowed down our desired place to live to St. Kitts, Turks and Caicos, and Puerto Rico (since as U.S. citizens we could clean toilets there if we had to). St. Kitts was only a day sail away from St. Martin (although a long one), so we decided to head over there and make sure it was as we remembered it. If we had to get back to St. Martin to show the boat, it wouldn't be a big deal. So off we went (barely noticing that it was Thanksgiving).

Upon our arrival, we rented a car, toured around, and immediately confirmed that we still liked the island. There was even a Hash House Harriers chapter on there. Sold! We decided to move on-island for a couple of months. What better way to get a feel for what we hoped would be our new home? Even though this would further drain our dwindling funds, we felt it was worth it. So we googled a local realtor and, when we found a newly constructed condo right on the cliffs overlooking the ocean, went to meet with the realtor to check out the place. While we were waiting in the realtor's office, we saw a brochure for a huge development just getting its legs on the island. Hmmmm.

We did like the condo, but it wasn't ready yet. We investigated every anchorage on the south side of the island to get away from swells, fluky winds, and loud bars. The only suitable place was waaaaay down the sparsely inhabited southeast peninsula in White House Bay. The only negative to this arrangement was that although St. Kitts had a small marina, a haulout facility, and even a boatbuilder, it didn't cater to liveaboards. There were no marine stores or services. Getting boat parts and making repairs would be difficult, so we were unhappy when one of the alternators broke down. Luckily, auto repair shops can rebuild them, so that was fixed, but anything else would have to wait for a trip back to St. Martin.

We dinghied into civilization occasionally and discovered that the development we'd read about was hiring, and they were looking specifically for what Michael had to offer—someone to start a tree/plant nursery for the upcoming project. Michael had run his own successful landscaping company for two years and had overseen the grounds of a 100-acre 4-star resort in Arizona for seven years. The fact that he was already on St. Kitts might give the company even more incentive to hire him. He immediately sent a resume.

We also started putting word out around the island that the boat was for sale. The gossip mill flourishes on-island, so spreading the word was not difficult.

When we learned that the condo wouldn't be ready until January, we begged the realtor to find us something to bridge the gap. We wanted to celebrate Christmas on land. The realtor happened to have a two-story villa in a new complex that would let us stay the month. Wahoo!

Before we settled into our temporary abode, we planned to make a quick run back to St. Martin to stock up on food. The selection was better there and the prices were lower. We were determined to have one heck of a Christmas dinner!

Just days before Christmas, we decided to make our break for St. Martin. The day before our trip, we were handed the key to our villa and spent one night in a fantastically comfy bed. No doubts about
that
decision! Okay, on to St. Martin and back—in a hurry!

We motored all the way there with no wind but the calmest sea ever and spent the night listening to Christmas activities onshore. The following day we hit the stores, along with everyone else doing their last-minute Christmas shopping, and then hauled all our stuff back to the boat. Whew!

We had planned on hightailing it back from St. Martin, but two potential buyers turned up on the day we were supposed to leave. Despite deteriorating weather conditions, we pushed our sail back a day and scrambled to stow all the food we had bought. Par for the course, the people “loved our boat
but
…” More buyers who had to sell something else first.

As expected, conditions sailing back were hairy (
much
different from the sail over), with Michael getting sick and things being tossed around inside the boat. Winds were on our nose and the waves were sloppy. Although we tried to sail offwind, we hobbyhorsed the whole 40 miles before we could tuck behind St. Kitts for the final 20-mile motorsail.

We were happy to come around the protected side of St. Kitts and get checked in. We anchored the boat so we could see it from our villa, dinghied our stuff to a small nearby rock beach (eight dinghy trips—oy), carried it all up to our place, and prepared to celebrate Christmas on land. Ho! Ho! Ho!

We quickly adapted to all the appliances, the cushy
king
-size bed, the four-burner stove, the easy-to-access cabinets, the TV, and being able to walk out the
front door and onto solid ground. Even monkeys were playing in the backyard.
Jacumba
who?

We even took the barbecue grill off the boat. Here's an irony for you. We had been paranoid about a possible propane explosion on the boat. We had heard of deaths and met someone maimed by such an event, so we had taken great pains to avoid potential problems, using various leak detectors and safety valves and turning off the tanks after every use. During our first on-land barbecue, the top of the grill burst off, pieces of soy dog coated Michael's face, and the grill went flying into the bushes. Michael was startled but unhurt. Go figure.

The villa was within walking distance of town (about 45 hilly minutes), so we were able to wander down there and watch the Carnival festivities. We could also walk to the grocery store (although it was a long trek) and could easily get to The Strip to hang out at the beach bars when we needed an outing. We also lived near one of the hashers, who would pick us up every three weeks and bring us along. Yep, we could get used to this.

Michael was even going to interviews with the developer (dinghying down the coast to get to them). The officers seemed interested, but this was going to be a looooong process.

Our blissful month in the villa was up, our scrumptious Christmas had been an unqualified success, and it was now time to move into the condo on the ocean. We rented a car, took two trips with all our stuff, and moved in. We even had our first on-island guest, my dad.

It was a fantastic visit. We divided the island into thirds and ventured out around noon. Taking him around the island reminded us yet again that we loved St. Kitts. And because we still had
Jacumba
, we took Dad sailing to Nevis for the day.

We had considered keeping the boat just for these kinds of outings, but we couldn't do it without living aboard (because of that darned bank loan) and we knew we didn't want to do that anymore. We knew we'd miss the boat, but we couldn't do both, and we'd had our minds set on island living for a while. Maintaining the boat was a pain in the butt. It was time to let
Jacumba
go so she could take someone else on his (or her) seafaring adventure.

Jacumba
was anchored off South Frigate Bay, only 10 minutes away from our place, so it was easy to check on her, but we didn't want to leave our dinghy at the dock. This meant that we had to carry our inflatable kayak (about 23 pounds) to and from the beach, inflate/deflate it, and then paddle to/from the boat. We took turns doing this. We did luck out by having a hasher friend with a business on The Strip, and he kept an eye on the boat for us too.

While we waited to hear from the developer—it had now been four months since Michael's first contact with them and still no job offer—we tried to remember to balance
Jacumba
's maintenance with the fun she still brought. We'd lie on the trampoline some nights or take new friends on sails to Nevis and back. As a matter of fact, we were thrilled to still be boat owners when we got word that some friends were sailing to Barbuda.

W
e hadn't missed many islands during our trip. We had skipped a handful of smaller islands here and there and decided to pass on a few, including St. Croix and Barbados. We had always wanted to see Barbuda, but sailing conditions often seemed to be against us. From St. Kitts we were only about 70 miles away, but the waves always looked 12 feet or higher and on our nose (Barbuda was due east). We were excited when we received the e-mail from our friends Anne and Steve on catamaran
Fine Line
, last seen off Calivigny Island, Grenada, who were heading over to Barbuda from Antigua and insisted we meet them there. For once the conditions were in our favor, so we didn't hesitate.

Time to move some food, clothes, pots and pans, and toiletries back onto the boat and turn on the freezer. Somehow I didn't remember this being so complicated.

Our anchor was so set in that it took us a half hour to hoist it. We were a bit rusty but had a nice day motorsailing. Barbuda is barely above sea level, so we didn't even see the island until we were about 45 minutes away. We arrived at the southwest anchorage near Spanish Well Point just before sunset—again cutting it a little too close—and tucked in behind a reef next to our pals.

We immediately added Barbuda to our “favorite” list. As advertised, the beaches were pink and as soft as powder. The waters were Caribbean blues and greens. Absolutely beautiful.

Our anchor light went out and the metal shackle holding up the mainsail halyard snapped (we had just lowered the sail), so Michael got one of the best views of the area when he was yanked up the mast to fix everything.

We anchored our boats at various places along the west coast for different vantage points and took a tour in an incredibly rough and large lagoon to see the frigate bird sanctuary. We also hiked in the fierce sun, vowed never to drink from another plastic bottle after seeing the entire ocean-side beach littered with them, and just hung out with Anne and Steve (we didn't know if we'd ever see one another again).

Anne and Steve decided to stay an extra day. We were tempted to stay, too, but I had a feeling that conditions would turn unpleasant sooner than predicted and wanted to get back. A storm system was coming, but no one knew exactly when, and I didn't want to get trapped in the unprotected Barbuda anchorages.

We had one of our longest outright sails ever on the way back to St. Kitts. The winds stayed a perfect 19 to 21 knots, the waves were gently pushing from behind, and we returned in a record 7½ hours. We even saw two whales! The trip was perfect … except for the fire in the engine room …

The anchor light went out, we replaced the bulb, it lasted one night and then blew again. We didn't have any more spares …

Our dinghy sprang a leak around the drain plug, so we were happy to have Steve and Anne play water taxi while we kept gooping the plug with epoxy and trying to get it to cure.