Barbados to Bequia

What a night! We left Bridgetown spot on time as Tedroy opened the bridge at 1pm as requested. Many of the other boats cheered us on our way as did Adrian and Jane Bugler of Bluebird and Peter and Jo Shaw. Peter had even brought a party bugle to sound us off as we left the careenage for the open seas once more.

Ollie jumps ashore and says farewell

It was such a relief to get back out to sea. In Barbados, we were the news story of the moment in the historic centre of their country. Our every move aboard was watched by press and passers-by who chose just to sit on the benches at our stern and watch our daily lives as they unfolded. The Bajan Prime Minister was even filmed with our boat as a backdrop, just as James was trying to repair the toe-rail.  The Caribbean Sea also offered a welcome drop in temperature and an end to the midges and mosquitoes, with their risk of Dengue fever.

The breeze was brisk and favourable so we set the genoa against a reef in the main and set course for Bequia. The waves were quite steep and Elizabeth and I both found we had lost our sea legs. I skipped supper to have a nap ready for the night watch and the fun started. We were already rolling heavily as the seas and wind increased. Before midnight, we were down to two reefs and no jib, and still running at speeds that James has cringed about during the race as pushing too hard. The swing and roll of the boat made sleep impossible so we both stayed on watch through the night. Elizabeth was also struggling to sleep and needed frequent cuddles, then a latch on a galley cupboard broke, smashing our precious tea, sugar and coffee supplies into the bilge with showers of glass. Back on deck, James had gybed the main only for it to rip right through at the spreaders.

Shredded main, no jib, and still making 8kts

We made landfall between St Vincent and Bequia about 2am on a broad reach, under a severed mainsail only and still making 8kts as the wind had now increased to well over 30kts (the locals reported gusting 39kts in the shelter of Bequia and reckoned it was more like 50kts in the squalls where we were). We ran into smoother waters in the lea of the island to drop the tatters and put a slither of genoa up to maintain steerage as we now had to hold off for another three hours before daybreak. Shattered, we crept into a very congested Admiralty Bay at first light, dropped the anchor and went to sleep just as Matthew awoke and demanded his breakfast.

On Bequia, everything is done by sea

Around 9am, we were awakened by the locals touting for varnishing trade so James went ashore to clear in. Shortly after he had left, I noticed that we were dragging our anchor in the strong winds and were getting perilously close to the boats behind. Alone with the children, I tried to remember what James would do but hadn’t done any anchor handling for nearly two years. Just as my adrenaline levels were rising towards critical, a chap came by in a rib and helpfully pointed out the obvious but I persuaded him to come aboard and grind up the anchor whilst I took the helm and manoeuvred us clear. I then motored about the crowded anchorage praying that James would return soon to help me anchor once more.

Residents of Admiralty Bay, Bequia

Admiralty Bay is a beautiful spot, unsullied by tourist resort but immensely popular with cruisers. There must be over a hundred yachts in here and there are services to match. We’ve already arranged our main to be sewn and hope to commission a new spinnaker fitting. The sea is clear and the water is sheltered. Elizabeth and I have been swimming from the boat and both have had fun driving the rib. The sunshine is fierce so Matthew has been able to charge his Nintendo at last. 

One of the residents chillin' by the jetty

We have now come ashore to find the locals are friendly and natural, every other store is a chandlery, the wifi is free and the rum punches are cheap as we watch the sun set on a perfect view. I can see why so many of the boats that come here never leave.