Incident
At Piney Beach -
May 18th, 2002
It started
off so well... On a recommendation from our Australian friends Miranda
and I decided to spend a night anchored off of Piney's Beach in Nevis.
On our way south, having sailed into Nevis at sunset, we anchored in almost
the same spot . At that time we marveled at the cloud capped island and
miles of deserted white beach, but couldn't take time to enjoy the island
as we were pushing south toward Trinidad and Carnival. This time we planned
to enjoy the island and ourselves.
Nevis is a
beautiful island that isn't overrun with tourism. There are miles of isolated
beach and hiking trails up into the mountains. Little art galleries dot
the main town of Charleston, so Miranda and I spent a nice morning browsing
through the shops and galleries. To finish the morning we ate a beautiful
lunch in a garden cafe facing the sea.
After completing
a few chores we returned to the boat, rested a bit and then ate some dinner
before heading ashore to Sunshine's. Our friends John and Alison had specifically
recommended Sunshine's Beach Bar and his Killer Bee Rum Punches. Sunshine
and his strong drinks made for an enjoyable evening... and were the start
of our troubles.
We sat at a
picnic table painted red green and yellow in true Rasta fashion enjoying
the cool sand under our feet and our first round of drinks. An Eagles
Album played on the CD player. We watched as the loud American tourists,
who spilled over from the Four Seasons Resort just down the beach, made
fools of their sunburnt selves. When that got boring we turned to the
little black puppy that was roaming the beach seeking playmates. A couple
more drinks and we were in quite good spirits. We walked down the beach
to where we had left the dinghy.
Now, in all
fairness we had plenty of warning. The guide book mentions how difficult
landing on Piney Beach can be. And while we had managed to remain dry
upon our arrival, landing the dinghy hadn't been a cake walk. As we walked
from the bar the thought that we ought to be extra careful when launching
the dinghy flitted through my head. We commenced our regular dinghy launching
procedure of rolling up our pants, fitting the oars into the oarlocks,
lifting and turning the craft so its bow faced the water, and finally
placing the boat into the surf. Miranda climbed in and I hopped in after
her giving the boat a shove away from shore as I did so. We drifted a
metre or two away from the beach but turned as we did so. At this point
the most vital thing was to get the boat facing back into the waves, but
after my tasty Killer Bee Rum Punches I just wasn't quick enough off the
mark. Before I could get my hands on the oars a wave crashed onto our
starboard quarter and swamped the boat. The boat stayed upright, but was
filled to her gunwales with salt water. Laughing at our misfortune we
both flopped out into the water and dragged ourselves and the boat, sandy
and wet, back up the beach.
I began the
long process of bailing the water and cleaning the sand out of the dinghy.
Miranda stood on the beach waiting and realized that her hand bag had
gotten a good soaking. As it turned out there was nothing in the bag that
couldn't be dried out and rehabilitated, so nothing was lost. But, at
the time she was quite upset. Despite our mishap I was still feeling the
warm buzz of the rum and was in quite a good mood. In fact I was finding
quite a bit of humor in the whole situation. Miranda was not!
We rowed back
to Baggywrinkle together, but we were going in opposite directions. I
was laughing and trying to get Miranda to do the same. She was fuming
and not having any of it. Back at the boat things continued on the same
course and we stood in the cockpit arguing with each other for a number
of minutes. I didn't want to end a lovely evening on such a sour note.
"Forget the unintentional swim", I insisted. "It was fun."
She didn't agree, and I wasn't helping matters by claiming it was!
There seemed
to be nothing I could do to salvage the evening, it was out of my hands.
Fortunately Sunshine and his bar came to the rescue yet again. As we stood
aboard Baggywrinkle arguing we could hear the sound system from the bar
blaring out across the anchorage. As I was about to abandon all hope of
cheering Miranda the first strains of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody drifted
over the water reaching our ears not a moment too soon. A large grin crossed
my face and I began to sing. I knew that Miranda would not be able to
hold out long against one of her all time favorite sing along songs. Slowly
a smile cracked across her face and she joined in. We laughed and sung
our frustration out at the top of our lungs.
The next day
we sailed away from Nevis, past St. Kitts and onto Statia. A small Dutch
Island Statia attracts the few tourists it sees with its good Scuba diving.
The Dutch have always had freer trading policies and in the 16th and 17th
century Statia was a major center of trade in the Caribbean, making the
local merchants, (a mix of Dutch, English, Christians and Jews) all very
rich. But, it wasn't to last. In 1776 The Andrew Doria, an American Vessel,
came into the harbor and fired a salute. The Governor of Statia returned
the salute and in doing so made Statia the first nation to salute an American
Naval vessel. The British didn't look highly on this and other support
that Statia was giving the American Rebels. Not long afterwards Admiral
Rodney arrived and took the island. He and the British troops confiscated
and auctioned off the goods and ships of Statian merchants. Rodney found
fewer valuables than he expected and then began to notice that the Jews
were having an awful many funerals. He ordered one of the funerals stopped
so he could look in the coffin... he found it full of valuables. He confiscated
the goods and deported the Jews to St. Kitts.
Today in Statia
there still exists a Jewish cemetery and the foundation for the original
Synagogue. Miranda and I walked up through town and found our way to the
cemetery which lay at the end of a road on the outskirts of town. The
iron gates with the Ten Commandments on them still swung on their hinges.
We walked around the small grounds looking at the old headstones and enjoying
the fantastic view as the sun sank over the watery western horizon.
To finish up
what Admiral Rodney had started a hurricane came along at the end of the
16th century and destroyed Statia's waterfront. A snorkel in the small
anchorage reveals the ruined remains of waterfront shops and old cannons.
Miranda and
I spent a very plesant day in Statia snorkeling in the harbor, walking
around yet another Caribbean fort, climbing the island's highest peak
called The Quill, and eating in the local burger joint afterwards. Statia
was a nice introduction to the Dutch Islands. We were now ready to tackle
the most inviting, yet most forbidding Dutch Island - Saba.
Ben
Shaw
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