Day 26 - Rum Punch for breakfast
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Thu 16 Dec 2010 16:45
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14:04.53N
60:57.00W
"Land ho!!" came the shout at midnight, as William
spied the first lights of Martinique to the north. Minutes later, the call came
again as the first lights of St Lucia swam into view above the swell. We'd had
to donk up briefly as the timid wind failed again at sunset, but by 1 in the
morning, we were fizzing along on a beam reach with the main and the whopping
gib aloft.
A wave of tiredness rippled through the crew as we
realised we were so close to our goal, but by 5am, everyone was stationed in the
cockpit thinking of rum punch and solid ground beneath our feet. The skipper had
even availed himself of a makeshift shower with the last of the tank water, and
was looking pretty fly in the only clean clothes he possessed. Likewise, the
First Mate was almost peacocklike in her finery and Graham and William slipped
into clothes just a couple of days old.
As morning started to brighten the eastern horizon,
we could pick out features of the St Lucian coast, including Pigeon Island,
round which the ARC boats have to turn to make the finish line. As we reached in
towards the volcanic dome of the island, we noticed another boat creeping along
the coast in our direction. The crew was tense as they sensed that a fight for
the finish might be on, and we tweaked the sails for a bit more
speed.
Despite our best efforts the boat passed a few
hundred metres ahead of us, and we supposed the game was up. But we crept inside her line and hugged the cliffs of Pigeon
Island into the bay, which opened up with a cracking 12 knots of wind on the
port bow. Summer Song loves sailing close hauled and as the other boat
desperately tried to claw back some ground, we left her for dead in our wake,
finally crossing all of three minutes after us. After 3,000 miles and
three-and-a-half weeks at sea, our finish had come down to a matter of seconds.
We began with a race and ended with a race.
William affected a mock Caribbean accent as we
radioed in to the ARC finish line to tell them that we were on our way. He's
been practising since the Cape Verde's and now does a passable impression of Viv
Richards ("'Dis is Sommer Sang; does you receive me, overrr"). We crossed the
line at 07:21.06 local time, with the unfamiliar smell of land thick in the air.
They say you smell what you miss most, with our friends on Honingpupp noticing
the aroma of chicken as they finished. For some reason, all we got was
straw...
There was a welcome committee out to meet us as we
backed into our berth in the marina. The boat next door was blowing a conch
shell, while others got out their foghorns. We were met by a local bearing
fruit, chilled rum punch and ice cold beers - the perfect tonic for a tired
crew. More importantly, Jesse and baby Tabitha were waving hard from the end of
the pontoon, with Will's Mum Jan. Honingpupp were also on hand to say hello,
after our close encounter some 800 miles from St Lucia.
Rodney Bay is a lot to take in for people whose
idea of a major talking point is the sight of a storm petrel skimming over the
waves. There's suddenly a lot of colour, sounds, people and sights to take in.
The marina is teeming with ARC crews, friendly locals and little cafes and
restaurants. We'll be exploring more over coming days, but it feels as if we've
stumbled on an easygoing tropical paradise.
As in Las Palmas, there's a tumult of crews we know
and recognise, milling about. There's a sociable atmosphere that seems to
recommend a cool beer at any time of day. It's going to be great fun comparing
notes with other crews about the crossing, and fishing fortunes. Our 10kg wahoo
has been well and truly put in the shade by a French boat's 35kg blue
marlin.
The ARC parties continue tonight with a fancy dress
shindig on the theme of 'Pop Idols'. It's going to take some thought, but we're
planning on dressing up. Then, tomorrow, there's a fish fry in a nearby village,
followed by the closing ARC party on Saturday, when the final rankings will be
published. There are still about 30 boats to come in, so it'll go right down to
the wire, but it seems that many boats used the engine a lot more than us, so we
could find ourselves drifting up the finish order.
It's great to be back in party mode again, with the
atmosphere generated by 250 boats of tired but chuffed sailors. The ARC
organisers have created a real feeling of community, fostered through endless
parties and socials, and I'm sure we'll be running into friends we've met on
this trip throughout the Caribbean.
First, though, sleep and a swim beckons as the
mercury climbs towards 35 degrees C.
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