Day 5 Petit St. Vincent to Union Island

The day started well; all four of us managed to climb from our berths.  Then things went downhill.  The OJ that usually started everyone's day was noticed to be a bit warm.  All at once it hit us, our ice was gone!  It had completely melted and now was a pressing concern.  Doc Sam reminded us of last night's discussion.  It was most imperative we become illegal aliens.  Nothing else would do.

It's an easy sail from our anchorage at Petit St. Vincent to Petit Martinique, just a bit more than half a mile away.  There was no problem at all getting the boat and our bodies from where we were to where we could find plentiful, cheap ice.  And, once we tied up to the lower fueling dock in this picture, all we needed to do was walk to the yellowish building (behind the red roofs at the upper dock pictured) where some really nice people sold it.  The problem arose when we stepped ashore to buy it. 

Petit St. Vincent is an island located in the nation of St. Vincent and the Grenadines but Petit Martinique is an island located in the nation of Grenada!  Legally we were required to clear customs before stepping on Grenadian soil, but the closest port of entry was on the western side of the island of Carriacou, several hours away under sail. I can not say much more than somehow the ice found it's way into our cooler without incriminating at least one in our party, so that's all I'm gonna say!

There was a stiff wind blowing from the northeast which allowed us to practice docking the boat for several hours so that's what we did.  First Joe, then Doc and, finally, I docked it.  We were under power and Capt'n Chris took the opportunity to test our skill.  He asked us to practice backing the boat away while the wind was trying to push it onto the dock.   Boats tend not to back well; the turning prop "walks" the stern towards the direction the prop turns.  Our prop walked the stern away from the dock, which pushed the bow into it.  This also turned the boat so it's port side was presented to the wind, which tried to blow the bow completely around.

Finally, we guessed what the Capt'n was doing.  He had given us an impossible task and we had to come up with a better way.  We rigged a spring line which we used to help push the bow away while slowly motoring forward.  HA!  Another challenge met and mastered!  We were getting pretty confident with our abilities by this time.  One other lesson I took from these docking maneuvers was just how heavy the boat was.  I've never seen fenders flattened the way that boat could squeeze them.  My 26 footer could easily be pushed off a pier by just shoving off with my foot.  Not only was it impossible to do in this boat with waves and a wind blowing it in, it was dangerous.  If I were to slip while trying to shove off and get my leg between the boat and the pier, the leg would be lost.

The day had been a productive one, we'd sailed from one country to another, maneuvered the boat in close quarters for a couple of hours AND replenished our supply of ice.   It was getting late in the afternoon and our next anchorage was calling.  We motored out, headed up and raised the main.  The jib soon followed and we headed northwest to Union Island, our trusty dinghy following behind. 

The sail was made on a single tack,, the 19 Kt wind blowing directly over our starboard beam.   It took a bit more than an hour to make the seven mile passage to just beyond the southwest horn of Union Island.  There we furled the jib, dropped the main and motored northeast directly into the wind and into Chatham Bay.

  I made this picture larger so the many cafes and bars located along the beach could be more easily seen.    The amount of noise at night was amazing.  Every one of the joints had it's very own stereo system and all of them thought the volume of their business varied as the volume of the music did.  Nightmare!  But, in all fairness, I have to say it all shut down at 10:00PM.  We anchored and used the dinghy to go ashore to spend some time on the beach and have a couple of beers and dinner.  It was nice to get off the boat for a while and have someone else cook the meal.  

Here's a picture of the crew sitting down to dinner at the quietest place on the beach.  From the left there's Doc, Capt'n Chris and Joe.  I'm holding the camera and our boat is the first one to the left of the whitish column.   I can't remember much about the meal except it was spicy and there was lots of it!  We had a great time ashore, probably the best evening of the trip. 

We motored back to the boat and the Capt'n told us to get some sleep.  Tomorrow was the big day.  The practical portion of our Bareboat exam was for us to get him on board his boat, anchored in Admirality Bay, Bequia, by 4:30.  We were to wake ourselves in the morning, ready the boat in time to get him there, plot our courses, take hourly bearings and locate us on a chart as we sailed, anchor, start the dinghy and put him alongside his floating home before his wife's homecoming dinner for him got cold.  All of this without any help or advise.  Doc wanted to know if we were expected to kiss his wife for him - after all, we should get some sort of remuneration for all the work, and got flailed with the cat-o-nine-tails for an answer.

The Capt'n went to his cabin for some rest and the three of us started working the chart with dividers and parallel rulers.  BRING IT ON!