"Tales of Daring Do"

 (or Don’t as the case may be)

or Our Trip to the British Virgin Islands

by Julia and Ritchie Thomson

For our trip to the British Virgin Islands last October, Julia and I decided that this was just for us. We chose not to tell the children that they were welcome to come as we have in the past. This time it was just the two of us. We planned some fun sailing, a bit of snorkeling and lots of sun, sea and a modicum of rum. Rum as you know, is an essential part of the BVI scene, it comes in many different guises including the infamous Pusser’s Pain Killer, although other bars also have their own versions and we were willing to try all of them. The thought of the delights of the BVI’s, Drakes’s Sound, the Soggy Dollar Bar, Soper’s Hole, The Baths, The Dogs, The Monkeys and so on, were almost too much to stand and at last on the 3^rd November, we flew down to Beef Island for our cruise.

We had a boring, and thus, a good flight, who could ask for more. We were picked up and whisked off, BVI style to the charter base of our choice. We had selected a well known charter company who for reasons to be revealed, should be best left unnamed. When we got there our boat was ready and we were able to board and spend a relaxing evening first eating at the bar and then sleeping on board our 32 ft Beneteau Oceanis.

The next morning dawned fair and after provisioning with basic food and drink – mostly the latter we were off, with plenty of wind and one reef in the main. This was the source of a few minutes entertainment while we sorted out the reefing lines. It is always a problem when all the lines are led back to the cockpit and, of course, males never read the labels except as a course of last resort. Still we eventually got it all resolved and with a fresh breeze we sailed over to Jost van Dyke and met some friends at Foxy’s Tamarind Bar for lunch. Things got very relaxed at Foxy’s, as they generally do, but that was why we were there after all. We never got any further and ended up staying overnight anchored in Great Harbor.

The next day we set out to beat up the windward side of Tortola to Monkey Point to go snorkeling. There was a cold front coming through and it was blowing (32 knot winds) and rough but the boat handled it very well. The dingy was leaping about like a wild thing and we were in and out of rain squalls. Suddenly it seemed very quiet and looking behind us I realized we no longer had a dingy. The dingy, attached with a single polypropylene line, had got loose. It was time for "dingy overboard drill". We did a quick tack and sailed a reciprocal course. After a few worrying minutes, Julia spotted the dingy ahead appearing on the wave crests and disappearing most of the time in the troughs. We picked it up under sail, cleated the dingy line and tied it down with a safety line. Do you remember learning in boating safety class that polypro line is slippery and does not tie well, well now you have proof! You might well ask why we didn’t use the engine to give us more maneuverability while picking up the dinghy. There by hangs the tale!

We continued tacking up the coast, when in the squalls it was very beautiful with the rain dancing on the water and everything turning to silver. Eventually we got in behind Guana Island and tried to start the engine to motor upwind to Monkey Point for our first snorkel of the trip. The engine would not keep running; it coughed and died. The fuel gauge indicated a full tank so we presumed we had other problems. Having called the charter company by cell phone and agreed to meet a mechanic at Cane Garden Bay, we sailed on a great broad reach to Cane Garden Bay and managed to get in and pick up a mooring. After beating to weather, it was a pleasure to sail down wind for a bit although frustrating to lose all the ground to windward we had made. The mechanic came over and breathed magic on the engine and pronounced it "fixed" although he thought we were low on fuel. How could that be, we only left base yesterday?

Let me stop for a moment and give you a definition of an idiot. An idiot is a person who does the same thing a second time and expects a different result. Undeterred, again with heavy wind and rainsqualls we sailed up to under Guana again. Surprise - the engine again would not run. This time we thought we would do something different, we turned and ran all the way down Tortola to the West End. Again it was a great downwind sail. All went well until we rounded West End Point, to beat into Soper’s Hole with the current against us. We sailed back and forward and got nowhere, so after a couple of very frustrating hours we were towed into the dock. As the sun was preparing to go "over the yard arm" the mechanics went home. Problem solving was for tomorrow.

We spent overnight at the dock and the next day the mechanics again worked on the engine and by 11am we had a full tank of diesel and were on our way again. The empty tank they surmised was because it had not been refueled after coming out of the hurricane hole and the fuel gauge didn’t work. Those ‘damned hurricanes’ they do cause trouble! It was now the half way into our vacation and we were still not getting anywhere. We set out motoring up Drake Sound to test the engine. This went fine for an hour or so until again, the engine died. By this time there was no way we were returning to the charter base so we sailed over to Norman Island and beat into the Bight. We picked up a mooring and called the charter company to come and pick up the boat and give us another vessel. Without demur they agreed to do this and promised us a boat the next morning. At this point they were showing some remorse.

The next day our replacement boat was delivered as promised, and we sailed out to the Indians to snorkel. The replacement boat had at least a reliable engine, even if the refrigerator and depth sounder did not work. We picked up a mooring at Marina Cay for the night and spent the next day snorkeling at The Dogs and the Wreck of the Rhone. At the end of the day we moored in Sprat Cove on Peter Island for our last night.

Probably most memorable of all was our last mornings’ sail back to base. We had seven miles to cover, straight down wind with only the genoa up. A big squall came through with wind and rain and once again we flew. The rain turned all around us to silver as it passed. Then, with the sun behind us, we ended up sailing into a double rainbow. Unfortunately after that, we had to go home.

It was a great trip, even though we did more troubleshooting than we had planned. Our sailing skills were tested and not found wanting - engines were deemed unnecessary. More than anything else, it gave us a great deal of respect for Drake and the other old time sailors who had no choice but to set out into the unknown without an engine. The moral of this tale is for the reader to decide but for us it was a learning experience in more ways than one.