Climbing
Saba Rock -
May 20th, 2002
Saba Island
rises 3000 feet from the sea. Imposing brown cliffs climb vertically out
of the water, giving the impression that the island belongs in a fairytale.
(Miranda and I took to calling the cliffs that overhung our anchorage
'The Cliffs of Insanity'). Like all good forbidden lands, Saba is not
easily conquered. The steep cliffs leave no room for beaches and make
landing almost impossible. The hearty Dutch settlers solved this problem
by cutting more than 800 stone steps into a cliff on the leeward side
of the island. When conditions were calm, boats could then be unloaded
at the base of the cliff (by men standing in waist deep water). All goods
were then carried up the steps from Ladder Bay to the towns perched in
the heights of the island. Everything imported to the island was delivered
this way until the 1960s, when an airport was built on a small patch of
flattened land.
Statia fell
away to our stern as we sailed toward Saba on a beautiful beam reach.
Saba began to loom large on the horizon and we began to contemplate our
approach. All the guide books warn that anchoring at Saba is a difficult
proposition. Only in favorable conditions is anchoring possible and even
then everyone we talked to recommended using the mooring balls that are
provided free of charge around the island. The wind continued to whip
along and we sailed quickly up to the south side of the island and then
on around to the west side where we hoped to find refuge from the easterly
winds. No such luck. Instead of finding a quiet leeward anchorage we found
a malestrom. The island, being almost round in shape, was splitting the
wind apart, forcing one stream of air to flow along the northern shore
and another to flow along the southern. The two streams of air continued
on their circular paths until they reached the west side of the island,
where they met in a head on collision. We were running along at almost
six knots when we hit this tangled mess of confused wind. The jib began
flapping wildly, eddies formed in the water next to us, and our speed
dropped to almost nothing. We dropped the sail, started the engine and
decided this wasn't the place to moor even though there were four empty
mooring balls in sight.
In fact we
had our pick of any mooring ball there at Saba. They were all empty! And
there were no other pleasure boats anchored anywhere around the island.
We had come to Saba for this reason, we wanted to get off the beaten track.
Saba's treacherous nature keeps the tourists and novice sailors away,
and makes the rest of us quite nervous. At most anchorages you can simply
pull up near to where other boats are anchored and assume its a safe spot.
When there are other boats around one can go ashore confident with the
knowledge that if the boat begins to drag or sink, there are people around
who will see it and do something. When you're the only ones out there,
your anchoring skills are put to the test. Alone we pressed on, a little
nervous, but still confident we could find a safe spot. The weather wasn't
particularly bad, but the wind was up and all the mooring balls were quite
exposed to the swell that seemed to be finding its way to all sides of
the island. We ducked into what passes as the only bay on Saba Island,
a small indentation on the north west coast called Wells Bay. It offered
no protection from the wind that whipped around the coast but fortunately
it had a relatively shallow sandy bottom into which the anchor dug well
and deep. I let out most of the 100 foot anchor chain and spent the next
few hours watching carefully to see that we weren't dragging. We seemed
to have passed the first obstacle of Saba Rock: Anchoring.
The next test
was getting ashore. We had been told a story about a man and wife, who
having sold everything were living on their boat and sailing the Caribbean.
It was New Years Eve day when they sailed into Saba and anchored in Wells
Bay. When they attempted to land on the small rock beach, their dinghy
was swamped and the man lost a finger when the outboard engine hit his
hand. He and his wife spent New Years Eve in the hospital. And as if that
hadn't been enough, when they returned to the bay, they found the boat
had dragged and had been smashed to pieces on the rocky coast!
Once I was
sure the anchor was holding we put on our snorkeling gear and plopped
into the water. There was a bit of a current running, but with flippers
we were able to overcome that and swim around the bay. We headed toward
shallower water, snorkeling around the boulders that sat on the bottom
a few meters from shore. I decided that a closer inspection of the shoreline
was in order before tomorrows anticipated landing and I swam up to where
the surf was breaking onto basketball sized rocks. I waited for a lull
in the waves and quickly clambored up the steep incline escaping the next
breaker. This wasn't easy with flippers as Miranda, who was following
behind me, quickly discovered. As she tried to scale the beach one of
her flippers got caught between two rocks. Before she could free herself
two waves crashed around her legs and torso and threatened to knock her
down, bruse her badly and even break some bones. But, she kept her balance
held her ground and manged to free her foot. She climbed up the beach
and proceeded to give me hell for not telling her where I was going. It
had been close, but we seemed to have tackled Saba's second challenge:
getting ashore.
The next day
we planned our landing much more carefully. Miranda was understandably
apprehensive about a second attempt. I assured her that this time it would
be easier for we not only knew some of the dangers but this time we would
not be wearing flippers. We carefully packed our clothes, a small towel,
the camera, our wallets, and a backpack into Ziplock bags and then a second
and a third layer of Ziplock bags. Ziplock bags are the sailor's constant
companion and his surest allie against sea water. We put on our bathers
and slipped into the water. Pushing the floating plastic bags in front
of us we swam toward the beach and managed an easy, almost graceful, exit
from the water. Happy with ourselves at how successfully our plan had
worked we opened up our Ziplock baggies and began towelling off and changing
into our clothes. As I slipped into my shirt I heard a loud thud as if
someone had dropped a large boulder onto the beach a few meters away.
It was only then that I truly took a good look up at the Cliffs of Insanity
that towered over the beach. To my horror I saw that it was studded with
huge rocks hanging precariously out from the cliff face ready to drop
at any moment. We were watching errosion in action and we weren't too
keen to stick around and see more! A couple of more thuds off to our right
set us into quick action and we were in our clothes and off the beach
in no time.
At the end
of the beach we stepped up onto the road. Only later did we find out that
this was the far end of the one and only road on the island. The cement
road climbed up at an amazing angle and wove its way through the hills.
We started climbing and soon found ourselves looking back down over the
bay from where we had come. A truck parked down at the end of the road
looked small from the distance and we could barely see the truck's owner
fishing on an outcropping of rocks. We turned back around and continued
walking up, and up, occassionally stopping to catch our breath at a turn
in the road. A few minutes later we both heard the sound of a vehicle
approaching from below and knew it had to be the truck struggling up the
incline. When it was just around the corner we stopped and stuck out our
thumbs. For a moment I feared the driver wouldn't stop because he might
not be able to get the truck going again on the steep incline. But he
did stop, and he was able to get going again even with the added weight
of two passengers. We feasted our eyes on the fantastic views and marvelled
at how the road seemed to weave and cut along nothing but cliffsides.
We were thankful that a ride had come along for there was very little
flat road and the drive into town which took us all of five minutes would
have been a very long and tiring walk.
When the driver
reached the top we thanked him, jumped out, and found ourselves at The
Bottom. Now things were really beginning to resemble a fairy tale or Alice
in Wonderland. There are two main towns in Saba: The Bottom and Windward
Side. I imagine that after settling towns in such harsh environs one has
little energy left for naming them. The descriptive names turned out to
be helpful. We figured walking up and toward the wind would take us from
The Bottom to Windward Side. Of course we would have had to work pretty
hard to get ourselves lost, since Saba has only one road!
Up until the
1950s a mountain track, which took an hour to traverse, was the only route
between the two towns. Visiting Dutch engineers declared road building
on the island an impossibility due to the steep terrain. So a local man
named John Hassel, took a correspondence course in road building and soon
had the Saban people at work hand building a road. It took them several
years to complete the job but by 1958 "the road that couldn't be
built" was in service. Later that afternoon we caught a taxi which
happened to be driven by a man who had helped build the road. This man,
in his mid fifties, spoke to us with pride about the process of leveling
the hillside and building the retaining walls. He told us about life before
the road, how he used to trek between the towns. He told us about the
road's early days when only jeeps could traverse the muddy unpaved slopes.
I found it remarkable and touching that a single road had played such
a central role in this mans life. In fact the road is greatly significant
to most Sabans, for not too long ago it drastically changed life on the
Island. All Saban's were very proud of the road's existence. A stone monument
was erected to honor the road's progenitor and the man's house has been
preserved as a shop since his death in the 70s.
We walked along
the road up away from The Bottom. A few turns later were were looking
down onto the town and it was a beautiful sight to behold. Every building
in Saba is white with green shutters and a red roof. Nestled together
between the towering green hills the matching buildings sparkled against
the ocean blue backdrop. The Bottom couldn't have looked more idyllic
if it had been taken straight out of a picture book. We walked passed
The Saba University School of Medicine sitting quiet for summer break.
As we entered Windward Side the sound of singing echoed down the empty
streets. It was a Sunday morning and while the streets were empty the
churches were full. Most everything in town was shut but we had a lovely
time wandering the streets to look at the impeccably maintained houses
and gardens. We came across a dive resort with a hotel and restaurant
that was serving a buffet brunch. We stepped in to look at the spread
and were immediately taken with the magnificent setting. A small deck
hung out the back overlooking the town and ocean. If the food hadn't been
good the setting would have made up for it, but it was delicious. To top
it all off we were the only ones in the place for the first three quarters
of the meal.
It was a wonderful
way to end our fairy tale day. We caught a cab back to Wells Bay, swam
out to the boat and raised the anchor. As we sailed on toward the Virgin
Islands and home, the magical kingdom of Saba slowly drifted into a shroud
of mist and eventually disappeared.... happily ever after.
Ben
Shaw
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