Thursday 10th December (Brindabella)

Brindabella's Web Diary
Simon Williams
Sat 12 Dec 2009 20:53

 Day 19 – Brindabella Crosses the Line!!!!!

   The dawn squall was not the pre-arrival shower Simon had hoped for. With eyes like saucers he was glued to my helm ignoring offers of a rest from Lini. Land was sighted at the end of a rainbow mid morning lifting spirits. F7 gusts forced me to round up into the wind as we neared land, making Lini very nervous about landing on the rocks. Approaching Pigeon Island she took the helm while Simon, extremely stressed in case the boat behind might overtake me, dropped the pole. They gybed my mainsail, pulled out my genoa again on a beam reach and I stormed towards the point as ARC Finish gave me instructions on the VHF of the finish line around the headland.

   It seemed strange after two and a half weeks of downwind sailing to be finishing close hauled and a blowy close hauled at that. We had twenty five knots of wind as heeled over I stormed towards the finish line with the cameraman shooting away from a rib at my side. I hoped he caught my shapely lines and full sails as with one huge sigh from us all we had finished: I, Brindabella had crossed the Atlantic.

   There had been little time to take in the beautiful, lush green island of St. Lucia up to this point and between dropping sails and digging out the buried lines and fenders, we scanned the golden beach, the lively bay and spacious properties rising into the vibrant green hills. Our welcome into the marina was wonderful with cheers, horns and congratulatory calls from the girls already berthed. ARC staff and the crew of Blonde Moment were on the dock to greet us and tie our lines followed by a true Caribbean welcome from the St. Lucia tourist board of chilled rum punch, a huge bottle of chilled Heineken and a basket a Caribbean fruit and sauces. Music was played on a steel drum by a cool Rastafarian leaning on the pontoon post.

   If Lini had known they would have to move me to another berth I doubt she would have guzzled the killer rum that lurked at the bottom of her glass….. Making a spectacular entrance into berth number two with numerous staff standing by, first Simon didn’t have enough deep water to manoeuvre me stern-to and had to perform a fifty six point turn in strong winds to turn me, then in a desperate attempt to stop me blowing onto a pile Lini failed to remember she had opened the gate and took an unscheduled swim. How embarrassing! I dreamed of competent crew and a stylish entrance!

   How strange we felt; the mental and physical fatigue, the run punch, the completion of so much planning and preparation: We were exhausted. While I took a well earned rest they at last began getting me back into shape, tidying, cleaning and setting up the all essential sun canopy to keep me cool. All the while a constant stream of locals called by to congratulate us but more so tout for business for laundry, provisioning, cleaning, taxis and repairs. We were given flyers for parties, restaurants and bars in the town and some just chatted about our crossing.

   Flagging fast they were just about to take a nap when our Polish friend Chris arrived and we had a drink while sharing our experiences. Deciding it would now be better to have an early dinner and early night my weary crew were sprawled like starfish, luxuriating in a proper bed by eight thirty. Apart from a noisy awakening from a party at 5am on a neighbour’s boat they slept for fourteen hours.