Hello from St Croix
Dandelion
Rick, Helen, Sue, John
Thu 28 Apr 2011 18:06
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Now we're at 17:44.92N 64:41.91W which as you will see
is on the north coast of St Criox. Actually, its a marina - of
sorts. Definition of a
marina: a purpose-built harbour offering comfort and
shelter for pleasure boats with facilities ashore (often including nice hot
showers). Definition of Caribbean marina: A few pontoons
held loosely in place by wobbly, concrete-filled plastic piping and mostly
exposed to the prevailing swell/wind with a cold water shower operated by a
piece of string. So we're hanging on to this 'dock' with the
fenders squeaking and the lines straining and groaning to the extent that I
shall not be aghast if, one morning, we find ourselves adrift in mid-ocean
with the silly little dock still tied alongside.
It was a pretty tough slog to get here. Since
we turned north to get out of 'pirate country' (the Venezuelan coast)
we've been hard on the wind with the Shrek sometimes giving a extra shove
(other times silent, sulking and awaiting attention) and it was a
nail-biter almost until the last mile. With the strong west-going current
and our abbreviated sail-plan (the genoa being out of commission), if the Shrek
had decided to take another unscheduled break we'd have been taken
westwards towards Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic or gawd-knows-where. So every
change of the engine note, every surge or fade was very much heard and felt and
pondered.
Of course, having landed in St Croix, we're now in US
territory. This is how it goes with US immigration these days: You
go into a beautifully air-conditioned office. A very smartly uniformed,
rotund man takes your passport. Opens it. Reads it. Takes it
away to the back office. eventually comes back and calls, 'John?'.
Longish pause with full eye contact (being a Brit I squirm, stare at my
feet and somehow manage to look guilty). 'We wanna talk
with you right now. Come on and sit
right here'. There would be no change of tone if he were to say,
'John? You're the guy we've been looking for. You're under
arrest. Now where's the anthrax?' Anyway as we had recently visited
the US - by dint of landing at Miami on the way to Curacao - we were
apparently friends but another couple had just sailed in and
- notwithstanding that the owner was Norwegian and his partner
American - were told in most unequivocal terms, 'go away and please don't
come back'.
Sometimes it can be a harsh, sad
world.
As to our plans. Clearly there have been some
difficulties with the boat and last night we talked over a few options.
The central question being, is she fit to do a transatlantic? We can sort
the genoa problem but the difficulties with the Shrek are largely due to the
incorrect alternator being fitted in Curacao. The v-belt
whizzes round three pulleys and as they are not properly
aligned it wears away over a couple of days giving cause to
frequent and unpleasant head-down visits to the black lagoon to fit a new
one. 'OK, well, just get another alternator', you say. Perhaps I
should explain - or at least offer - a possible history of
Shrek. During its middle-age Shrek was lifted from a WW2
tank (which had been abandoned at Tobruk), sold for scrap, lost in the desert,
found again, used as a sinker for a large ship mooring and finally brought to
the surface by an optimist who sprayed it green and stuck it in this poor old
boat, laughingly stamping VOLVO on what was once its crank case. So when
one calls Volvo and quotes the model number the response is either laughter
and a dead line or, 'Good God, could we have it for our
museum?'
If we decide against the long haul, plan B would be to
sail up to Tortola in the Virgins and put her on a ship for Europe. The
only issue there is that it takes a fair bit of Krug to ship, what in effect is
a fifty-five footer, from here to the UK. Before we get to that stage, R
has just left for his conference, H and S will stay until next week and in the
meantime Dave - my 'Atlantic mate' will arrive and no
doubt help assess the situation over the weekend. So until then
we're here, clinging on to the wobbly dock.
Love the crew.
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