End of Eden
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Fri 11 Mar 2011 22:20
|
17:08.161N
62:37.895W
At about 10pm, there was a sudden commotion at the
party. Emmy and Andy had taken us to a shindig for a couple of friends who
worked at the Montserrat Volcano Observatory. All their phones began ringing at
once, like an alarm chorus. For a glorious moment, I thought some sort of
volcanic activity was breaking out on the island, and we'd be able to see vast
incandescent boulders rolling down the flanks of the Soufriere, or billowing
clouds of ash. They quickly calmed down, however, and we learned that a massive
earthquake in Japan had set off the seismic monitors on Montserrat. The saga
continued today, however, when Alex received a worried phonecall from Andrei,
who warned of a tsunami rippling out from another quake in Japan. It's looking
pretty calm out there now, but we're going to check the forecast and see what's
heading our way...
In the meantime, we're anchored up just south of
the jetty in Charlestown, the main metropolis (population 2,000) on Nevis after
a 30-mile sail. People have been telling us that Nevis is what Montserrat 'used
to be like', by which they mean pre-volcano. As I type, perky soca music is
booming out of speakers all over town as people gear up for the Friday night
fish fry. We finally checked out of the Casa Emmy this morning, after an
etiquette-busting stay of six nights. It's been six nights of luxury - beds
anchored firmly to the ground, running water, warm showers - and we've got to
know Emmy and Andy and a big group of their friends. Their single storey house
down a long, bumpy drive has astonishing views to the west and a garden that
shimmers with tiny hummingbirds. They drive about the island in an old 4x4,
whose battery lasts exactly two-and-a-half journeys before conking out, and seem
to know everyone we pass on the road. Montserratians give one another a cheery
honk as they pass. They also have a pair of hounds named Lucky and Dopey. Lucky
was rescued from drowning in a plastic bag as a puppy and has, at the age of
just five, adopted the unhurried and undemonstrative attitude of a veteran
slipper wearer. Dopey is deaf, sporadically hyperactive and permanently attached
to a long length of rope (to stop him getting lost) which he tends to wrap in
ever tighter circles around garden furniture.
Thanks to Emmy's excellent teaching, I'm now a
Scuba Diver, qualified to dive to 40 feet, in the company of an instructor.
Two more dives will give me an Open Water qualification which in theory allows
me to dive wherever I please. She was extraordinarily patient and enthusiastic
as I floundered around in the pool with the heavy scuba kit on my back, snorted
water and failed to sink. But after another pool dive and some great diving
amongst colourful coral in Little Bay, I've begun to get used to the idea of
breathing underwater. We saw a whopping barracuda gliding around with a hungry
look in its eye, and heaps of reef fish going about their business. The plan is
to complete the course on Saba - a somewhat inbred Dutch island to the northwest
- which is said to have excellent diving.
We were exceedingly lucky on Montserrat. not only
for the kindness of Emmy and Andy, but for the weather. After the slightly
dicey (but great fun) mixed bag in Antigua with Springmead HQ, the swell dropped
away and the wind turned south, allowing us to leave Summer Song bobbing at
anchor in Little Bay. We met a couple of other families on boats who said that
they had barely slept a wink at the anchorage because the boats rolled like
metronomes, counting out the time to an underwater orchestra of reef beasts.
Life onboard would have been seriously uncomfortable. We kept a close eye on her
- as Andy cheefully said one morning: "The current flows south out of Little
Bay, so we'd see her floating past the house if she came loose." She stood in as
a diveboat one day, then a day tripper the next, as we ran down the coast to
Plymouth. Once the thriving capital of the island, it is now a desolate place of
rooftops and spires poking forlornly through the ash. The mountain steamed
majestically behind, with a gigantic river of hardening ash and boulders
sweeping down from the dome to the sea, where it has fanned out and added
several square kilometres of barren territory to Montserrat. Though the
exclusion zone extends two miles out to sea, boats are only forbidden from
anchoring within it; if you keep moving you can run as close in to the shore as
you like. We got within hailing distance of the old cruise ship
dock.
|