We’re anchored just to the north of the volcano evacuation zone on Montserrat, having sailed over from St Kitts today, almost 50nm, much less in a straight line. A fun sail, but it was very windy – almost 37 knts as we sailed the last bit - and we were tight on the wind all the way which led to a lot of sail trimming and tacking, and the boat smashing her heart out. Because we can’t sail directly into the wind this tends to mean a slow day. We sail fairly fast in the direction we’re heading, but make slower progress in the direction we want to go! (if that makes sense).
Still, we’re here, and our anchorage is superb: we’re tucked in under a cliff. It is super calm as the cliff is blocking the wind…I know it’s still angry out to sea so it’s almost cozy, and I will sleep well tonight. I took out our second anchor to ensure we’re safely off the cliff in the unlikely event the wind changes.
You would well know that gentleman don’t sail to windward. Today was quite ungentlemanly, and in protest Greg has gone to bed despite that: a) it’s only 7.48pm, and b) it’s, coincidentally, the semi-finals of the Montserrat calypso music competition tonight, starting at 10. Perhaps he’s right: as I write this it’s pretty clear we’re going to hear the music anyway!
Still, there’s an odds on chance that after I go to sleep there’ll be a knock on my cabin door, and Greg will be there arguing vehemently in favour of calypso music.
If he is true to historical form, there’ll be:
1) at least one reference to his growing up with calypso music (he might add that he was brought up by Caribbean gypsies on a rum-running schooner; that they kept him with the animals; that they only fed him conch and Marlboro Reds);
2) at least one reference to the fact that he’s also a world class calypso musician himself, but he’s never shared it with me because he is shy. However, if I were to motivate and go to the concert, he may enlighten me (but I would have to by him a few beers at the very least for that to happen, and of course, no promises);
3) that it is highly unlikely that I will ever be in the fortunate position of being with someone like him in Montserrat ever again, and in turn this means, I won’t get the benefit of him:
a. Interpreting my Kiwi accent to the English speaking Montserratians, thereby allowing me a most basic form of communication with the locals;
b. Using his streetwise negotiating skills that can turn Euro prices into the same nominal value in Dollars on the basis that one day the US$ will be valuable again (true, he’s done this recently more than once…);
c. Protecting me as he is a World Class Street Fighting action hero…(this bit goes on for some time and I tend to tune out and think about the next day’s sailing…)
4) At least some reference to me being somewhat like, and having the characteristics of, a kitten.
I regret tomorrow may be ungentlemanly again as we’re heading to Antigua which is around 20nm directly into the eye of the wind. I’ll be surprised if we haven’t sailed 30 or more miles by the time we get to English Harbour.
Now Montserrat is very interesting. The volcano is still pumping out ash, and with this strong wind we could see a plume from the mountain’s summit at least 100nm downwind. As we got closer you could see smoldering lava flows down the windward side. The population – down to 4,500 from 11,000 prior to the eruption – now all live in the northern end kind of near where we are. Greg is very interested in ‘Conch Water’, which is a conch soup I think. He also wants to try Goat Water; I trust it’s also a soup despite that it sounds like some crazy hallucinogenic drink consumed out of coconut shells. Earlier when we asked at the little stalls near the calypso competition they had ‘only fried tings!’.
I would like to go exploring on Montserrat. Especially I’d like to go to Plymouth, the town that was buried in the eruption (our chart still shows it, but superimposed over the top in red print it says ‘Destroyed 1997’). You aren’t allowed into that part of the island, but I’m told you can go close enough that you can see rooftops sticking out of the lava flows. There’s also a famous tennis court visible from a lookout that’s still reachable. The court looks fine, until you notice that only the top of the net sticks out of the ash. For us it’s a pretty easy sail down the island’s leeward side, and it also has the benefit of positioning us on a more favourable angle for our sail to Antigua. However, there’s now a security zone around the island’s southern half that adds, I think, too many miles to make our trip one day (I try not to go into new anchorages in the dark which limits our sailing time), and I hear when you go through the plume – that is, to leeward of the volcano – your boat gets covered in ash.
That – like Saba – may sadly have to wait until next time.
So we are now 16°36’ north of the equator. Our anchorage in Mamaroneck, New York, was 40°55N. In addition to sailing south, we’ve also travelled quite a way east. We are now 062° west of the prime meridian, whereas we started at 073°W. Ultimately, our voyage to New Zealand – if that’s what it turns into, and we’ll just have to see how it goes - is a westerly trip, so we’ll reverse this and much more.
To put this in context, I must ask my parents where our house is in New Zealand. I’m guessing it’s something like 36°S, 174°W. My Mum and Dad live on Auckland harbour, and I have this dream of sailing into Auckland, anchoring off the house and swimming in.
Gidday Mum!
Water temp right now is 30.3C. I don’t remember what the water temp was in Mamaroneck, but I do remember swimming (if you can call a 0.01 second plunge swimming) with Max in Maine in 13C.
Photos show the old fella with the volcano in the background (if you look closely you can see the bandit scarf Greg bought me), and the other is of us beating towards Montserrat. Good heel on!
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