A
Completely Different Passage -
June
10th, 2002
Sailing back
to the Virgin Islands was a homecoming of sorts. We had friends on St
Thomas we looked forward to getting in touch with, the water and islands
were familiar territory and we were once again back in the United States.
At least we
thought we were back. But, getting ourselves legally into the USA proved
to be an experience unto itself, thanks to unknown regulations and an
immigration official with the charm of a rhino.
After an overnight
sail from Saba we pulled into Cruz Harbor in St. Johns around noon ready
to eat, check into the country and rest - in that order. We scarfed down
brunch at a local greasy spoon and asked the waitress to point us in the
direction of Customs and Immigration. We headed over to the low white
building abutting the harbor seawall, stepped inside, presented ourselves
and our papers. We were handed a form to fill out in triplicate. We began
scribbling down the dates, numbers and other details we had memorized
from practicing this procedure numerous times in varied countries throughout
the Caribbean. Before we could complete our surnames we were asked to
step outside, the air conditioned room was intended for the official employees
only! Our dealings were to be conducted through a plexiglass window with
a half inch gap at its base. We shuffled outside completed our forms and
slipped them under the window to a woman sitting on her air conditioned
stool as if it was a throne. She looked at the papers and pronounced that
Miranda was not allowed in the country. Confused Miranda and I looked
at each other and then stammered our whats and whys back in the officers
direction. She looked neither concerned nor sympathetic and, from what
we could tell, didn't feel any need to help us solve what we saw as something
of a problem. Placing my mouth down near the opening of the window I bowed
my head to the queen, it was the only way to communicate with her. I asked
if she would mind open the window a bit more so we could talk, but she
clearly wasn't in a talking mood. She hoisted the window another quarter
of an inch, shoved a paper toward us and curtly told us to read the back.
It gave little insight into the situation, so we resorted to groveling."Please,"
we told her "we're not trying to do anything wrong Your Highness.
Tell us what we have to do and we'll do it... please, thank you."
Before revealing her secrets, she let us know that she had the ability
to fine us $4000.00, that we were completely at her mercy. We acknowledged
her power and our helpless state as simple commoners and once again pleaded
with her to have mercy on us. Finally she spoke: "The Australian
can't come in here on a private vessel. She has to arrive on a Signatory
Carrier, an airliner or ferry. Take her to The British Virgins Islands
and put her on a ferry boat back to the US. Then she will be let in...
IF she is eligible." With the Queens final threat ringing in our
ears I signed a paper saying I would remove Miranda from the county. We
left shaking our heads in disbelief, desperately wanting to laugh at the
stupidity of the situation, but scared to do so because Miranda was still
not back in the States.
We sailed over
to Tortola in the British Virgin Islands and anchored for the night. The
next morning, rested and fed after our passage, we went ashore and checked
into the British Virgin Islands without drama. We then bought Miranda
a ferry ticket to St Thomas and I checked out of the BVIs. I would sail
Baggywrinkle back to St Thomas while Miranda would take the ferry. At
5 knots it was going to take me a good hour and a half to two hours. The
ferry would cover the same distance in forty five minutes. To make up
for the difference I left Miranda at the ferry terminal early, lifted
the anchor and headed out of the harbor while she watched and waited.
It was strange for us to go our separate ways. We had spent almost every
minute of every day for the past 6 months together. Although we would
be separated for only a few hours (if all went well) our farewells that
morning were quite a production.
All did go
well and we were soon together again in St. Thomas. We were overwhelmed
once again by the generosity shown to us by our friends the Wardwell's.
Even though they were off the island during our stay they lent us a car
and place to stay. In many ways St. Thomas is like a small town. On our
first visit to the island we had been quickly befriended by friends of
the Wardwell's so despite their absence we had people to contact. We spent
a week enjoying the compny our friends Cara and Paul. We enjoyed the luxury
of TV and a freezer in which we could keep Ice Cream! We caught up on
our movies with screenings of Star Wars and Spider Man.
St Thomas was
where we had dropped off Sam, our crew member on the way south. Now we
were to pick him and his girlfriend Lizy up for our return trip. Together
they helped us sail Baggywrinkle up to the Bahamas from the Virgins Islands,
a six day trip as it turned out. In addition to relaxing Miranda and I
used our time in the Virgins to provision the boat and prepare her for
the upcoming offshore trip. Because of this within twenty-four hours of
Sam and Lizy's arrival we were all aboard Baggywrinkle, packed and ready
to go.
Before heading
offshore Lizy, Sam, Miranda and I spent a couple days enjoying the Virgin
Islands, and St Johns in particular. We snorkeled the underwater trail,
rented a sail board, watched glass blowers at work and ate dinner ashore
at Maho Bay. We even managed to catch a slightly long winded slide show
about marine organisms presented by a Sponge loving marine biologist.
Sam enjoyed being back aboard Baggy, and felt very much at home having
been aboard for over a month not long before. Lizy, who had never been
to sea before, quickly proved to be an able seaman. It was fun having
another couple on board with whom we could share our experiences.
The next day
we headed off toward the Bahamas with the wind at our backs. We rolled
with the swells that overtook us from behind. The ride was dry and comfortable
once we became accustomed to the movement. Sailing with the wind is very
different than sailing into it. For one we were not healed over at an
awkward angle the whole time. We were not dodging spray from every second
wave. Not only did we have the wind on a different quarter than on our
first passage, we also had much less of it. The wind came and went but
we had less than 15 knots the whole trip. We motored along while we lounged
in the cockpit reading, eating meals, and talking. One day when the wind
was nonexistent we shut off the motor and rigged the spinnaker pole out
over the starboard side of the boat. We spent the next hour playing in
the water, swinging out over then dropping down into the deep blue over
and over.
Little wind
makes for a comfortable trip, but not a quick one. What we thought would
take four to five days actually took six, many of which were spent motoring.
When we arrived in the Bahamas we were out of Fuel. Our arrival under
sail was quite eventful... but I'll save that for the next entry.
Ben
Shaw
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