Read A Sail of Two Idiots Online
Authors: Renee Petrillo
We had arrived. Now what? We had hoped to utilize Captain Tim a few more days to allow time to gain more skills, but the weather was turning ugly. Meteorologist Chris Parker and boat VHF chatter warned of a storm system on the way. We wouldn't be able to do much until the system passed, and who knew how long that would be. Money was tight, and we had to cut the cord sometime, right?
Right. But in order for Captain Tim to leave, we had to check him in with customs/immigration. As a matter of fact, all of us from
Jacumba
, even Shaka, still had to check in. The drill is that you raise a yellow quarantine flag on your mast, and the captain goes ashore alone and checks in the boat and crew. We did that, but no customs' officer was on duty. So we hoped they wouldn't mind if we all went ashore and got a drink. Who knewâwe might actually run into the officer there. (In St. Pierre, Martinique, you
do
check in at a bar, so it was possible.) That didn't happen, but we did enjoy ourselves. Note: Some islands
do
mind if you sneak ashore and will fine you, so be careful.
The next morning was a Sunday and, with the storm coming, we really needed to get Captain Tim on a plane. We called the customs office and were shocked when someone answered. The officer was there but was on his way out. Noooo! Wait, we're coming!
We piled into the dinghy (restarted the motor 10 times) and hustled to the customs office. He had waitedâhallelujah! A few nonchalant stamps and a hefty fee for a six-month cruising permit later, we were all legal, even Shaka. Yellow flag down; Bahamas courtesy flag up.
Now to get Captain Tim home. We booked his flight, put him on the next ferry to nearby Treasure Cay on Great Abaco Island, and waved good-bye. We waved again when the home-bound plane flew overhead, and then Michael and I just stared at each other. What had we just done?
We were now alone. On a boat. In a foreign country. Or, more exactly, alone, on our own, in a foreign country, on a boat we didn't know how to sail. Whose idea was this anyway? Oh, yeah, I already wrote that chapter.
It was becoming clear that I'd be the de facto captain, which suited Michael just fine. Over the following months we discovered who was better at doing what, and this turned out to be the right decision. Michael would freeze like a deer in headlights when unexpected things happened; I had trouble with things requiring muscle, such as getting the clutches (halyard and sheet/line holding devices) open in high winds. I could predict where a storm was going and steer us around it; Michael was like a monkey up the mast. Michael knew how to cook and enjoyed it; I could wash dishes with a drop of water. Michael was patient; I was practical. Michael became mechanically inclined; I further developed my computer/electronics skills. I smelled odors; Michael tracked them down. Michael was better at taking direction, I was better at directingâjust like at home! We both just kind of fell into our functions. That said â¦
LESSON 2 REPEAT: Don't ever assume â¦
Don't assume that the man will be the captainâeither on your boat or someone else's.
LESSON 26: ROLE-PLAY
Everyone has a part to play. Every adult on the boat should have some clue about how to do all the various jobs. Michael knew how to steer the boat and add a waypoint to the route in the chartplotter; he just wasn't good at either. I dealt with a lot of engine issuesâreplacing solenoids, tightening the alternator belt, even helping a guy rebuild our starterâbut I left those jobs to Michael when I could (he liked the challenge; me not so much). We both knew how to raise, trim, and lower the sails, and we both knew how to anchor. In an anchorage we would both assess the situation and find a good spot to drop anchor, but I would motor us to the chosen spot, and Michael would lower and later raise the hook. We split laundry chores and shopped for groceries together. We both carried heavy things. We both understood how the dinghy outboard worked. The only jobs we never swapped were that I steered us to the moorings and Michael picked them up. We were so good as a team this way that it wasn't worth messing with.
Role playing affects everyone's safety as well as their enjoyment of the whole boating experience. Many couples completely separate their tasks into the usual traditional chores, which is fine most of the time (assuming that all involved are happy with this arrangement). However, it helps for the captain and mate to at least know how to perform each other's tasks (if anything just for empathy), and everyone should at least know how to deal with emergencies.
Don't forget about kids and guests. Don't assume that the captain/mate have it covered. Remember LESSON 9, Sh** happens? Everyone aboard should know where emergency stuff is located, how to read basic charts or the chartplotter, how to work the VHF, and how to do a person-overboard drill. How to anchor isn't a bad thing to know either. Egotistical captains should share the knowledge lest their big heads fall overboard and they wish to be brought back on by their crew. All others should remember how cool it feels to overcome something they never thought they could do, and think of how helpless they would feel should something happen to the only person who knew anything.
LESSON 27: THERE CANNOT BE TWO CAPTAINS
Well, not at the same time anyway. You can take turns, but whoever's playing captain that day or at that moment is in charge at that time. Some of our worst arguments and unnecessarily awkward (even dangerous) situations happened when I was questioned in the midst of a maneuverâone we had already discussed beforehand (nicely). A captain makes decisions based on the assumption that the mate/crew will do as asked or agreed upon. Mutinies can create undesirable consequences, usually needing to then be “fixed” by the captain. It adds unnecessary pressure to a sail. Orders are not personal; they are necessary for everyone's safety. You cannot always have a consensus on a decision; the captain rules. Argue (and/or cry) later. Hugs are also allowed.
The electronic charts (using coordinate system datum WGS-84 only) are incredibly accurate in the Bahamas. You can almost navigate solely by using your chartplotter (although I would never recommend that; there's always that pesky LESSON 19, where you discover that it
is
you). You must look up from your charts and assess real-time information. Although charts may be accurate in the Bahamas, sand shifts and reefs grow, so it's important that you literally watch where you're going. The farther south you go in the Caribbean, the worse chart accuracy becomes. You plot a buoy on your chartplotter based on recent guidebook coordinates and are surprised to see it appear on land, for example. This can result from outdated maps, badly converted datums, or just plain errors. Look up! Having paper charts
aboard is a good idea not only for backup in case electronics fail but because they help you see the bigger picture when chartplotter screens are too small to gain perspective (although paper charts are often based on the same outdated information as the electronic ones; be careful).
LESSON 28A: BOOKS ARE YOUR FRIEND
Cruising guides, such as those by Chris Doyle and Bruce Van Sant (both for the Caribbean), are invaluable. Don't leave port without them.
LESSON 28B: KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CURRENT
I've heard people say that it doesn't matter how old charts and guidebooks are because the major things don't change. As a matter of fact, they do. In the Pacific, entire islands are continually being generated from underwater volcanoes. Even Grenada has a nearby underwater volcano, Kick'em Jenny, and who knows what she's up to down there. Reefs grow. Reefs get destroyed. Montserrat is expanding thanks to pyroclastic flows. Ships sink in shallow waters, creating hazards. Sands shift. Grasses overtake an anchorage bottom, making holding questionable. Current guidebooks and word of mouth make all the difference. If you've got old charts, use them in conjunction with more current guidebooks. Don't forget to update your chartplotter chips as well.
W
here were we? Oh, yes. Staring at each other on our sailboat at anchor off Green Turtle Cay. The dreaded storm was a dud, and we were starting to get into a routine. I had taken some contract work from my old employer, now a new client, and was working while trying not to get distracted by herons flying past. Michael was still puttering his way through the to-do list.
You know how kids make it easier to meet people? In our case, it was our dinghy, now named
Spud
, short for Sputter, which was not cooperating. Its outboard motor, about four years old, would cough, sputter, die, and leave us floating mid-harbor or even between islands. We'd row until we could flag someone to give us a lift. We had pulled on the starter cord so many times that it finally broke in half mid-pull. Local ferry operators, fishermen, and other yachties made a point of looking for us when they were out and about. We might have been towed more often than we actually motored. I think we owe those people gas money.
Of bigger concern, however, was running out of drugs for Shaka. Life-saving drugs for a thyroid condition. We had known we were running low when we left the States. We also knew that Bahamas' pharmacists could give us more without a prescription. What we didn't know was that Green Turtle didn't have a pharmacy. The closest one was in Marsh Harbour, on Great Abaco Island, but conditions weren't conducive to sailing there. Uh-oh.
Michael was placating himself at a local bar one afternoon after one more dinghy-engine outage and met a veterinarian who was hopping on a large motor-boat to Great Abaco Island the next day. Yay! All we had to do was buy the vet a bag of dog food so she could feed some local street dogs, and she would get us what we needed. Well, we sure couldn't turn down
that
offer. Serendipity baby!
LESSON 29: NEED DRUGS? STOCK UP!
If you or your pet needs drugs (legal), have plenty, or have a plan to get them should you not find them during your travels. Also, keep prescriptions on hand whenever possible. Many islands don't need prescriptions for drugs (your empty bottle will do, and even that's not always necessary), but some do, and if you're boarded by the Coast Guard, you might have a
problem if they find prescription-less bottles. (By the way, the U.S. Coast Guard is everywhereâinternational waters extend 12 miles from island nations.) Trying to fly “home” to visit with prescription-less bottles will also upset some high-level people. And watch yourself with illegal drugs. It may seem as though everyone is doing it, but there are different rules for different people. You're assumed to have money to pay if you get caught, or entrapped, and you'll be asked for lots of it or be escorted to a not-so-nice cell block.
We were feeling pretty good about things until a couple of nights later when the next cold front blew through. Michael and I were playing cards while we listened to the winds howling outside. Concerned, we decided to make sure we were still where we had been anchored, not really expecting a problem. Imagine our surprise when we realized that we were, in fact, headed for the fuel dock and the big expensive yacht parked there. All hands on deck!
What if we hadn't checked? What if we had been surrounded by reefs? Other boats? What if? As it was, our depth sounder showed we were right at our boat's draft (3 feet 7 inches) and really should have gone aground. Shoot, maybe it would have been better if we had; at least we would no longer have been slipping toward a multi-million dollar yacht!
So at 9 p.m. in the pitch black (remember LESSON 13 and the dreaded dark?), we had to turn on the engines, haul up the anchor, and re-anchor. Re-anchor for the first time, by ourselves, in the dark, in high winds. Yikes!
Once we started the process, we soon discovered that the gusts weren't our only problem; the current was tremendous. I was having difficulty getting the boat to move forward in order to give Michael some slack on the anchor chain so he could get the anchor bridle off (an issue only on catamarans). He couldn't figure out what my problem was (small engines, LESSON 21). I was practicing evasive maneuvers, concentrating on the looming dock and shallow spots (screw the anchor!) while he was yelling, “Where are you going?!” Well, I think that's what he was yelling. I couldn't hear a thing over the winds.
We eventually got the anchor up and then tried dropping it. About three times. Each time I'd back down on it and we'd still drag backward. The place is called Green Turtle for a reason, and where there are turtles, there is grass (and vice versa). Many anchors just don't hold in that stuff. Ours would be one of them.
Exhausted and discouraged, we decided to find the mooring we had practiced on a few days earlier. Michael grabbed the spotlight and lit the way so I could steer around everyone and their dinghies. With much relief we found that our prior practice paid off. Despite the rain, waves, and current, we zoomed right up to the
only available mooring (a large floating ball, attached via chain and line to a large permanent weight on the seabed, plus a pendantâthe line that attaches the mooring to the boat, pronounced “pennant”) and picked up the pendant on the first try. Boooya!
It wasn't perfectâthe pendant was frayed and would need occasional checkingâbut we were too hyped up to sleep anyway. We checked every once in a while to make sure we were still connected and considered ourselves lucky when the sun came up and all was as it should be.
Early the next morning, we went back over to the anchoring grounds and tried again ⦠and again ⦠and again, each time bringing up lots of mud and grass. We knew the trick of looking for the lightest green/blue spot, which would indicate sand. Firm sand is the best holding there is in the Bahamas and throughout the Caribbean. We thought we were doing that. Grrr.