There is something special about being under sail, particularly when you know that sail is all you have. You know you will have to rely on your wits and your sailing skill to get yourself out of trouble. All through the trip, we had relied on the wisdom of Donald Street in his Cruising Guide to the Eastern Caribbean. Don was well known for doing all his cruising under sail alone, and his sailing instructions often included the best way to approach harbors with no engine power. We discovered later Don was also well known in the Grenadines for being a self-centered blow-hard who the locals found hard to believe, particularly when he described how to approach tiny harbors under sail.
As they say, ignorance is bliss, and we blissfully charged south, confident with the knowledge that if Donald Street could do it, so could we.
Our next stop was the island of Carriacou, where we would perform our customs and immigration duties, rest for the night, and sail to final leg to Genada the following day. The most popular place to anchor is Tyrrel Bay, a marvelous protected harbor on the southwest side of the island. Tyrrel has a couple of hazards: a bump smack in the middle that is sometimes marked with a buoy, and a reef on the south side that isn't marked by anything. We had anchored here once on the way north, and felt like Tyrrel veterans.
Okay, more sailing stuff: Most people know that sailboats cannot go directly against the wind. You can sail to a destination that directly in line with the wind by "tacking" - approaching the wind at an angle of around 45 degrees and simply zig-zagging your way toward your destination. People who are not used to sailboats find it disconcerting that you often have to sail away from your destination in order to approach it from the right angle with the wind. The other downside to sailing against the wind is that the boat "heels" (leans over) as much as 20 degrees, which makes your whole world like a cheap amusement at Branson. While it can be fun for the died-in-the-wool sailors, most people find it pretty uncomfortable.
The British have a saying: "Gentlemen don't go to weather".
One of the things that makes Tyrrel such a good anchorage is precisely what makes it hard to get into under sail: it's upwind.
Not a problem - we just skim our way down the coast, ease our way past the bump in the middle of the bay, line up the rum shop just as Donald instructed, tack, drop anchor. A child could do it.
With the crew of Spice of Life fully briefed, we approached Tyrrel Bay under sail. As we rounded the reef, we picked our anchoring spot and tacked. Pointing toward the wind, we waited for the yacht to stop. Other sailors already at anchor looked up to see us approaching under sail. A few stood to get a better view. We slowed to a stop a little short of where we wanted to be, but beggars can't be choosers - the anchor went down and we started drifting backwards as anchor line was let out.
As we tied off the anchor line and started congratulating ourselves for surviving the ordeal, a sailor from one of the neighboring yachts seemed to become agitated, quickly jumping into his dinghy, starting the engine and roaring across the bay toward us.
Coming alongside, he shouted, "Are you on the reef?"
Reef?
He quickly pointed out that we were presently positioned directly in front of the reef in the southern part of the bay, and that any additional movement would place us firmly on top of it. We humbly accepted his offer of a tow to a better anchoring spot. As we motored across the bay under tow, we all agreed that our anchoring position really was just a temporary stop to get our bearings, and that we would've moved anyway.
After clearing customs, we celebrated our last night of sailing at a local restaurant. The rum, the seafood, and the steel band music helped to heal our bruised egos.
Early the next morning we lifted anchor for the last time and began the final leg of our journey home. The trip to the south coast of Grenada is over 50 miles, and would take most of the day. As we passed Ile de Ronde and Ile de Caille I celebrated my 36th birthday with sardines and crackers. We gave Kick 'em Jenny a wide berth - it's marked on the chart as an active underwater volcano.
While our trip between Carriacou and the northern tip of Grenada was windy and fast, as we moved into the wind shadow of Grenada we were completely becalmed. Spice of Life bobbed in the water, not moving at all. Still 20 miles from our final destination, with no way to move, we called the Moorings base on the VHF radio and asked for advice.
"Call us later", they said.
An hour later, still in the same spot, we called again.
"Don't worry mon, call us back later"
Another hour. We were becoming experts on one small stretch of Grenadian shore.
"Spice of Life, where are you, mon?"
We answered that we had staked a claim on this particular spot of water.
"Don't worry mon, we'll call you back"
Another hour, and the light was beginning to fade.
"Spice of Life, where are you?"
Is that in the physical or metaphysical sense? If you mean physical, we are still here.
"Get your things together, we are sending a boat for you."
Suddenly we realized that in a few minutes, Spice of Life would no longer be our home. Moorings was sending a boat with a local crew. The new crew would take over our yacht, we would return in the powerboat. I had mixed emotions about giving up, but the rest of our crew rushed past me to their cabins and started throwing belongings into bags.
I guess they didn't share my affection for our boat.
Half and hour later a powerboat came alongside, and in a couple of minutes people and belongings were transferred. The new crew waved goodby as we roared off.
When we arrived in St. Georges Harbor, we were met by a smartly dressed Moorings employee who guided us to a van and we headed off toward our complementary hotel rooms.
As we rounded the crest of the hill and headed down, the van's marine radio sprang to life.
"Moorings, Moorings, this is Spice of Life. Mon, you better send 'de boat back. We ain't goin' nowhere."
Postscript to the "Boat from Hell" stories:
One would think that after all the trouble on this trip, we would avoid Moorings in the future. Nothing could be farther from the truth. We were treated with great respect by Moorings, who managed to turn our lemon into lemonaid. They gave us three free nights in their beautiful beach-side hotel, and a free charter day on a future trip. We have used Moorings boats many times since 1991, and have nothing but good things to say about them.