17:00.208N 061:45.654W Arrival in Antigua
Irene IV - World Adventure
Louis Goor
Sat 27 Nov 2021 10:07
Friday
The night passes without incident, save for some lightning flashes on the
northern horizon which thankfully stay clear of our trajectory.
A night full of lasts; the last visceral starry sky, the last incredible
sunset with no land in sight, the last of the 3am watches and accompanying
buttery galleta biscuits (though maybe this one is for the best considering
our simultaneous voyage towards type 2 diabetes)
At 05.55 Sarah gets the first sight of land and lets out what can only be
described as a dolphin-esque squeal of happiness. After 20 days, we have
made the Atlantic crossing.
The craggy shadow of Antigua emerges on the horizon just as the morning sun
rises behind us on totally flat and glassy seas, while Guadeloupe comes into
view in the distance on our port side. All crew head to the deck and the
cava is opened to toast the first sight of land (others toasting with coffee
and water are equally jubilant).
Ian recovers the Antiguan and quarantine flags from the galley and spins
them up the mast in a cava-fuelled frenzy in preparation for entry. (A
potential faux pas of not knowing which flag was the Antiguan one is avoided
by some quick rummaging by Sarah in a sailing guidebook found in the saloon
library).
We motor around to the mouth of English harbour, the history and connections
that Antigua has to Irene IV in our minds, and slowly enter Nelson's
Dockyard. Stuart makes contact on VHF with the harbour team who bid us
welcome and advise us of our anchorage, in warm Caribbean accents.
The anchor is weighed, and Irene IV comes to a gentle halt; the first in 3
weeks. Stuart breathes a proper Northumberland sigh of relief as he thinks
back to all our challenges overcome in this crossing (not least the
resistance to relentless pressure from 'Mister Canvas' Ian B to hoist all
sails at all times)
We are shortly approached by a port official in a small rib, who requests
that all crew make their way to the dock for health checks and customs
processing. A thick file of passports, PCR test results, ship documents and
jelly baby flavour preferences are assembled in anticipation of demands.
Stuart leads the crew to the shore in our tender, walks into the customs
office and begins to mercilessly plough through administrative procedures
while the rest of the crew wait outside, taking in the lemon trees and
placid harbour activity in the shadow of the hot Caribbean sun.
Stuart glides from desk to desk, polite and thorough in his execution of
protocols. Sarah still has sea legs and is observed rolling side to side
while trying to walk along the jetty.
Finally, the procedures are finished. The crew take a quick picture in front
of the Antiguan flag at Nelson's Dockyard, and motor over to one of several
water-side restaurants for a late, well-deserved lunch. Restaurant wifi
means that most crew members take out their phones and check in on messages
for the first time since leaving Las Palmas. Crew wade through significant
volumes of correspondence, encouraging missives and prosaic administrative
ephemera.
The atmosphere in the harbour is relaxed, with plenty of boats, low volumes
of traffic, and several paddle boarders and swimmers. The adrenaline of
arrival is now wearing off, and all crew are becoming 'reventado'.
A final tender trip (we are getting used to this) to the harbour-side to
drop off some rubbish leads to pleasant chats with various other boat crews
and to the 'Galley Bar' on the waterfront for a digestif.
It turns out that there is a section of the ceiling dedicated to graffiti
mementos from previous Antiguan sailors, and Sarah is lightning quick to add
her own illustrated tableau of the Irene IV crew to the wall, while
tenuously perched on a table.
Stuart the recalcitrant fisherman, Manuela the sunbathing polisher, Ian and
his scones, Sarah necking cava, and yours truly, the plastic-cutting Blogger
are all etched into the ceiling by Sarah, to the bemusement of fellow
patrons and encouragement of bar staff.
The job done, all return once more to our anchorage for the night as
darkness falls; the cicadas humming, and gentle waves breaking in the
distance.
Tomorrow morning we will move to the marina in Falmouth Harbour, where Irene
IV will lay for the coming weeks.
Thank you to Louis and all the Goors, our loyal readers, those who wished us
well, and to the highly performant Irene IV who did, in the end, take care
of us on our crossing.
We were delighted to be part of the Irene IV story, even if our chapter
mostly concerned consumption of sweets, production of scones and
incorrigible hubris.
We took nothing but memories, and left nothing but footprints (and some
graffiti wall art of course).
Special thanks to 'Scuba Man' Stuart, and his trusty First Mate Manuela for
their competence, care and camaraderie.
Goodnight.
0 NM to Antigua.