Saturday 15th May (Lini’s Journal)

Brindabella's Web Diary
Simon Williams
Fri 21 May 2010 23:44
Land Ahoy!
I met the new day with a gasp. Under a hazy, light grey sky the sea
was so flat there wasn’t even a ripple on the surface. Towards the sun
the sea was a silver grey silk sheet wafting on a line with that
wonderful sheen only silk possesses. Away from the sun the sea was
grey oil showing only shallow shadows from minute disturbances on the
surface. How in 360° of just sea and sky can each day be so
wonderfully different?
Every time there is a transmission from Bermuda Radio I temporarily
forget where we are as they all sound like Solent Coastguard. One chap
we swear is our friend Garry. They are all very friendly and polite
with strict rules for entering the country. Si had emailed them boat
details and an ETA before we left Tortola as requested, then 30miles
out we had to call them and inform them of our imminent arrival. Entry
into the harbour is forbidden until clearance is given over VHF just
by the entrance channel where boats are then required to head straight
to the port authorities. Anyone arriving at night has to stay in the
quarantine anchorage until morning.
“That container ship has no AIS (Automatic Identification System
compulsory in commercial vessels)”, said Si peering through the
binoculars. “Oh!”, I replied from below, half submerged in a bucket of
laundry. As we sailed a little closer the container ship transformed
itself into Bermuda (Transformer ‘Energy Commander’ at work again
perhaps?!?). “Land Ahoy”, called skipper and the galley slave rushed
on deck to take a look with my usual excitement at arriving in a new
place.
I had a busy and frustrating day. Descaling the shower room and
scrubbing out the shower drain before a spot of laundry was pretty
gross, but without the frustration of bread dough that wouldn’t prove
and a coconut and lime cake that not only cooked black to white from
bottom to top as usual in our oven, but today was striped front to
back as well. “Lovely”, Si lied as he chewed his way through a
baguette more like a broom handle.
‘Festina’ was now sporting something different from her wardrobe; a
pretty blue and white spinnaker that was swiftly drawing nearer and
nearer. I already had the camera out but Phillip had radioed and asked
if we would photograph them dropping it for their website. As we
neared our approach route into St. Georges I was ready and waiting on
the stern, camera poised. I had to snap away pretty quickly to capture
the process while Phillip leapt about the foredeck like a gazelle, for
one minute it was there and the next, in its place like magic, was a
jib without a fleck of blue to be seen. “They’ve done that before
then!” I said to Si with my jaw dropped.
So, our ‘Thrash to the Onion Patch’ was almost complete; so called
by sailors en-route to Bermuda because onions together with lilies
were the main exports of years gone by. The wind whooped up just
before we dropped our sails and prepared mooring lines and fenders.
The ARC Europe boats were moored and now relaxing just inside the
harbour. At the customs dock we rafted off ‘Festina’ and the boys went
to check in while Lynda and I were very busy having a girly time
drinking tea and eating cakes: Lovely! Just how it should be! We were
politely asked by a man in uniform to vacate the dock as soon as the
boys had finished their tea. In a chilly wind at 7pm after eight days
at sea we anchored out in the harbour amongst many familiar boats from
our travels.
I had cleared up a little before afternoon tea but it still looked
like a bomb had landed in poor Brindabella. Si went digging in the
forecabin for the forgotten duvet and I had a swift tidy, turning us
back into ‘cruising mode’: Soon after Phillip and Lynda arrived for
celebratory arrival drinks. I couldn’t remember the last time we spent
an evening down below but it was warm and cosy sipping our rum punches
while we chatted about our crossing. Phillip has renamed the country
Bruuhmuda!