Friday 12th March (Lini’s Journal)
Brindabella's Web Diary
Simon Williams
Thu 18 Mar 2010 11:48
motoring up the coast I searched the shore then swept slowly round the
horizon through the binoculars. We circled back and further out to sea
headed south with eyes and binoculars peeled. Irma were also out on
the hunt motoring close to the shore. As they approached we agreed
Shovell had probably floated out to sea with the conditions last
night, so they set off several miles out and we circled back just a
few miles offshore. Fortunately it was a windless morning and the sea
was a flat calm with only the reflection of the rising sun to obscure
anything on the surface. Our hopes rose with every fishing pot or
faintest ripple on the water. The bright white boat just below the
horizon off the port bow we felt sure was too large to be our trusty
tender but no possibilities would pass without investigation. Closer
still I was almost afraid to raise my hopes at the vision through the
binoculars. Could this boat possibly be ours? When the chances grew to
50/50 I passed the bins to Simon whose face transformed from a deep
frown to positively beaming. Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell had been
found and we were elated. We radioed Irma with the great news.
Securely tied to Brindabella I couldn’t help but smile every time I
turned and saw it bobbing along behind us.
Breakfast seemed more appealing now our stomachs weren’t in knots;
so on went the kettle and out came the cereals. Champagne was dug out
and put to chill. Coming back into the anchorage the fishing lines
were hauled in empty as usual, but I cared not; I had hooked the
biggest and most expensive catch of my life and worth all the fish in
the sea to see Si happy again. Fatigue caught up with us once settled
and Si grabbed forty winks before we took a trip ashore; something I
wasn’t expecting to be able to do for quite some time. We left via
Irma to thank them for their help with the search and bid a proper
farewell. They too had no sleep and looked desperately tired.
We very carefully locked Shovell to the dinghy dock which led
straight to the market now bustling with early morning shoppers.
Tables heaved with brightly coloured vegetables with just as colourful
characters as vendors. St. Pierre was charming but with a tragic
history. In May 1902 Mt. Pelee just to the north erupted and within
ten minutes thirty thousand people lost their lives and the former
capital city was ruined. Now the narrow streets were lined with
French/ Creole cafes and businesses and many of the buildings grew out
of city’s remains. Some were built on the old stone foundations, some
shared a wall or two and others had the ruins for garden walls.
Information boards sat beside areas of particular interest with
sketches of how things looked before disaster struck. The theatre was
most amazing with beautiful twin sweeping staircases straddling a
fountain and leading up to the bare remains of the rest of the
building. To one side was the prison cell where one of the only two
survivors was saved due to the thickness of the stone walls that were
built into the side of the theatre. The museum housed incredible
pre-catastrophe photos of the then huge city, busy with industry,
markets, shoppers and schools children amongst row upon row of
buildings. The post-eruption pictures were horrendous; such a tragedy.
It was hard to believe that so many people lost their lives and the
town was wiped out within such a brief period of time: Chilling images
that will not be easily forgotten. Even the ships in the anchorage
perished and only one ship with a few survivors was able to limp away.
At a hilltop kiosk we met a Canadian couple we had chatted to
earlier on the dinghy dock. The sky had now clouded over and at last
as rain fell we sheltered with cool drinks under the awning and
chatted some more. The drop in temperature was a huge relief and we
hoped for enough sky juice to wash away the salt encrusted onto
Brindabella and hydrate these parched islands. Although a substantial
shower, it will take weeks of the like to benefit the soil. With the
returning sun came a humming bird to a nearby flowering tree and
another challenge to capture one on camera. We walked briefly round
the small town before returning to Brindabella for a late lunch then
sleep. Simon woke me just in time for sundowners! I think I must have
been tired!
We felt too shattered to enjoy our chilled champagne but a cool
beer brought me back to life and dinner certainly could not have been
slept through. The ‘sweet peppers’ I’d bought were a little hot when I
tasted a tiny piece but nothing too dangerous I mistakenly thought.
Noses ran, eyes streamed and lips burned as we ate our vegetable curry
with little chance of us being able to taste anything for the rest of
the week. Eight thirty we were both ready for bed with still much
sleep to catch up on.