A communally appreciated flash
Stream
Darrell Jackson and Sarah Barnes
Thu 6 Mar 2014 19:17
Through the heat of the day we rested in the cockpit being entertained by the antics of yachts coming into the bay and trying to pick up a mooring. Some were well polished and executed the manoeuvre with no problem, but others, well! We watched a French yacht, which did not appear to be a charter boat, attempt to pick up the mooring next to us at least 6 or 7 times without success and although there was no shouting, the frustration on the face of the man on the helm was obvious. Things came to a head when the lady at the bow managed to throw the boat hook away into the water during one of the failed attempts. We could not just stand by and do nothing, so Darrell jumped in the dinghy, rescued their boat hook and then took their line and put it through the loop on the mooring buoy. They seemed most grateful, but never invited us over for a drink afterwards!
We watched another boat on the opposite side of the bay trying for over 15 minutes to moor and eventually they crossed the bay and picked up another mooring next to us first time. There is a knack to it!
Sarah and I are developing new methods of communication with this extended period of being with one another 24/7. Snorkeltalk is an essential language to master when, surprisingly, you are snorkelling together. It's simple to do, you merely talk normally, but with the snorkel in your mouth, which makes the sounds produced absolutely nothing like the words intended and so impossible to understand. When using snorkeltalk hand signals can help enormously to get the point over when the gist of what you are saying is not obvious, although facial expressions are little help when the face is obscured by a mask and snorkel, and, in Sarah's case, hair as well. Like any language, practice is essential and we are both becoming much more proficient as each swim passes.
Anchortalk, as it's name suggests, is used during anchoring and is actually a form of sign language. The main problem when someone is on the foredeck looking forward and talks to the person on the helm 45 feet away is that not a word can be heard no matter how much they try to shout above the inevitable wind. Some boats use radios or walkie talkies, but they inevitably stop working at the crucial moment of get dropped and slip serenely into the water. Lip reading is no good, as they are facing forwards looking at the anchor chain and so we have developed a simple sign language to get the main points over. Pointing is obvious, the direction the anchor chain is lying and hence the direction to steer. The clenched fist and assorted raised fingers is not to suggest anger or anything else, but is an indication of how much chain is still out. For the helm this is most important because as soon as the anchor has come out of the sea bed the boat is now drifting and will need to be steered away from other boats or rocks. The helm will know the depth of water from his instruments and so it is a simple matter to know when the anchor is free, providing the person on the bow tells them regularly how much chain is still out. Hence the clenched fist and fingers. All visiting crew will be expected to learn this language on arrival in order that they can assist, it really is very simple and effective!
We had a very good walk ashore in the afternoon after braving the surf to beach the dinghy. This was to stretch our legs and the trail climbed through the wooded slopes of the bay for some fantastic views across to St Martins and Anguilla in one direction and Saba, St Eustatia, and St Kitts to the south. I say wooded slopes, but most of the "trees" were in fact cacti, but they still gave welcome shade. On top of the hill were some of the famous St Barths villas. High walls and security gates, but with extended views and from the little we could see, beautiful gardens and pools. They were the sort of buildings where you could see that no expense had been spared in either their building or their landscaped grounds. What must the interiors be like? The walk back down was much easier and Sarah thoughtfully managed to find a new route to the dinghy that didn't involve walking along the beach so we didn't get too much sand in the dinghy (we also seemed to avoid the topless sunbathers!). We even managed to launch the dinghy into the surf without it tipping up or even getting wet shorts, so for a change we returned with dry clothing.
We were relaxing in the cockpit with our sundowners watching the sun going down when we realised we may be in with a chance of seeing the elusive "green flash" as we could see a cloudless horizon. This is a phenomenon that can only be seen in the tropics and is caused by the different wavelengths of light being refracted in different ways as the sun sinks below the horizon. No science lesson here but I'm sure Tinternet will explain it much better than me if you're really interested. The result is that with a clear horizon and no cloud, a green light is seen momentarily as the last of the sun's orb sinks below the horizon. It lasts milliseconds and a blink will cause you to miss it, hence it is usually called the green flash. With strained eyes we watched as the sun slowly sank below the horizon trying not to blink and yes, we were in luck we both saw the "flash". Not only us, because as as soon as the flash appeared there was cheering and clapping from nearly all the yachts moored in the bay, a real shared experience which brings new meaning to our "sundowners".
The following morning after a good sleep we snorkelled before breakfast and found a really good area with more corals and fish and even managed to track down a feeding turtle. No wonder we hadn't seen them before as they are so well camouflaged when they are amongst the eel grass it is hard to see them. Turtles and sharks (who were still lurking under the boat) in two days!