9 June 2003
De Plan Dat Didn't Happen.

As we sailed across the broad Atlantic, I did in fact do a good deal of ruminating about where the Anna M and I might be headed. I more or less came to the conclusion that I would have to sell her when we returned to Europe. Once anchored in English Harbour, we promptly set about smartening her up, as well as carrying out the more serious maintenance that was required, notably repairing the fridge and the sails. By the time Tony left us to fly back to Dublin, she was beginning to lose that shaggy and dusty Cabo Verde look, if not exactly to emulate the sleek and manicured cats to be seen about the West Indies.
We made a plan alright, to go with the breeze to the Virgin Isles, and thence in the time-honoured way to head north for Bermuda and then west for the Azores, and so homewards. The east wind is likely to veer south-east and finally south-west as one heads north, and one can cut straight for the Azores then, once one feels it blows with sufficient conviction from a westerly airt to carry one on north of the doldrums around which the North Atlantic pivots. The first part went off very well; we whistled up to Road Town on Tortola, and lade in stores from the supermarket beside the dock there on Saturday 24th May, before immediately heading on for Jost Van Dyke Island on the north side of the British Virgin Isles, which is to Tortola somewhat as Sark is to Guernsey.
There is a character on Jost Van Dyke, a kind of king of the island by the sound of it, by the name of Foxy, who was to host a wooden boat regatta that weekend. This was just the ticket, to provide a day or two's r&r before we headed back across the ocean, not to mention to show off the old boat a little in that part of the world, one of the very best there is for sailing. Foxy's pub under the palm trees on the beach of Great Harbour, with great food and calypso music, turned out to be one of the hottest spots in the Caribbean. I nearly sheered away when I saw all the boats there, but my young crew would not have been pleased, so I checked my aversion to crowds and found a spot to drop our anchor.
The warm welcome ashore led to our lining out for a race in the morning, the crew fortified by Tim and Bonny from one of the mere fibreglass boats, and Alex from the shore, who in due course turned out to be the local police sergeant. I may say we did very creditably, coming second in our class. What's more, since I pride myself in being a non-competitive geezer, and have never indulged in such foolishness before, unless it be a very little as a teenager, I have to say that I surprised myself by the extent to which I thoroughly enjoyed it!
So we were duly under starting orders for the second race in the afternoon, and were off in great shape on the starboard tack with boats close on both quarters, when an unaccountable old yankee schooner suddenly tacked in front of us. It was impossible to avoid him and to try would only have involved more boats in the collision. I thought we would surely be stove in, but a wave just lifted his bow-sprit above our deck, only to break our rail and lifeline as well as itself. Back we went to anchor in Great Harbour. Alex gave me a drive around his spectacular island, and we enjoyed just one of our prizes, a free meal at Foxy's. I had fresh sword-fish, which was even better than our own barbecued delights!
Fortunately also the rogue Yankees could not have been more decent and apologetic, and took us back to their base at Benner Bay on St Thomas and took the repairs in hand. However these things would take a while, and we were all already up against that implacable old pirate, worse than any of them, Captain Time. Now he had us, with no sea-room to spare. We left Anna M in good hands though, and were pleased to find that we could fly to Gatwick at a cost of just £170 with Sunsail Flights. They may send their boats by the freighter-load to the Med for the summer, but the flights go on. Here is the number:- (+)44 2392 222 226.
In fact I am told that the sailing is on the whole better in the Caribbean in the summer, especially because it is so much less crowded than the high season, which is from November till April. One is just up against that little problem of the hurricane risk, which it is difficult to get insurance cover against. My insurers will not cover me for 'damage resulting from named tropical storms or hurricanes' within the 'hurricane box', which is from 12deg40' to 35degN and from 30 to 100degW, from July 1st to October 31st. However, once I had gotten over the shock of being so abruptly 'de-planned', I realised that there was a great deal to be said for staying in that part of the world for at least a year, and seeing if I might actually be able to make some decent money in the charter business there. Somehow the Caribbean feels just the place for me!
I came home to catch up on the rest of my life when I had the chance, but I shall rejoin my little ship again shortly and head south for Trinidad. Maybe I shall even manage to persuade my other half to come with me. And I'm told that the Orinoco Delta in Venezuela is a very fascinating place indeed…. So although this is finally the end of CC2CV, I hope to have some more adventures to tell you about fairly soon. And maybe you'll even join in yourself, be you friend or stranger to me in this our one and only precious world?

Joe Aston