Bermuda

We drifted into St. George's Harbour, Bermuda, at 5 a.m. on Monday, November 19, 2007. The last thirty miles had taken 20 hours. We talked to Bermuda Harbour Radio earlier in the day and arranged to have a commercial tow on stand by in the event that the wind kicked up and we ran out of our last precious liters of fuel. When we made the last required radio check for permission to enter around 4 a.m., we were told that we would have to drift offshore for the remainder of the night until the tow operation opened in the morning. We decided to take our chances on the engine, knowing that in the light winds, if we lost power, we could simply turn around and sail off to wait for the tow. Five miles outside of the harbor, we ran the engine. It purred and never sputtered. We kept it at a very low RPM for the final few miles. We dropped anchor in the pitch dark quarantine area known as Powder Hole. Sleep never felt so good.

Around 9 a.m., we cautiously motored over to the Customs Dock. Our friend Bernie, from Cap't Smoke's Marina, met us and directed us to a berth. The customs officer immediately directed us to another. Local politics played out while we used the final fumes of our fuel. While checking in, a crew came in behind us. One of the members had forgotten his passport. His jokes about his Costco card being proof of his citizenship only irritated the Customs official. He was ordered to stay on his boat until his passport could be sent to him. Given that you now need a passport to return to the US, it was a display of American arrogance that made us cringe. As we looked over to the nearby fuel dock, we saw a huge backhoe digging. The Shell station was gone. There is no longer a fuel dock in St. George's Harbour!

Jay eyed the several full fuel jugs on the deck of the Swan 47 tied behind us. He asked for the captain, and requested that he allow us to purchase 5 gallons. Happily he quickly agreed, but stated that the $50 offered was probably much more than the fuel was worth. Later we learned that it was close to market price on the island. We left the dock relieved to have temporarily solved our diesel problem.

Bow first into Captain Smokes. Many dock lines to keep us in place. A long gangplank sitting on our bowsprit separates us from land. Towels and mats litter the sea floor below. The day became a whirlwind of tasks – all of us operating on 3 hours of sleep. Repair the bilge pump. Re install the SSB antenna. Clean the sea water intake filter for the engine. Showers! Check weather. Track down Globalstar technical services and find out the source of our satellite frustrations. Diagnose the wiring for the broken stern light. Top off the batteries. Get laundry done. Repair a port hole that refused to close tightly. Check engine fluids. Bring the fuel containers back and forth to the gas station to fill the tank and the jerry jugs. Purchase four additional 5 gallon fuel containers. Fill the water tanks. Bring a 12v plug to the navigation station. Provision. Clean the refrigerator. Find an insurance company that will insure the boat once it reaches our destination.

Michael left Welcome yesterday – with a mixture of relief and regret. He treated us to a lovely dinner the night before at the finest restaurant in this tiny village. We already miss his good humor, warmth and help. Last night, we ate dinner with a couple from the UK via New York who lost their mast in the same storm that hit us. In huge seas they were forced to cut their stays, running rigging, and sails to get their broken mast and attached boom away from the boat so as to prevent it from puncturing the hull. They were taking a year off to sail, and were in surprisingly good humor. We asked about safety gear. Luckily, a week before the trip, they bought the same rigging cutters that sit in our locker. They had decided to forgo the expense of a life raft, thinking that it was unnecessary. They were obviously right – this time. They are sitting at the dock – the boat naked without its mast, boom and sails. The current project is trying to track down a new mast and figure out how to refit the boat to continue their journey.

Checking into the weather charts and the wisdom of fellow sailors, we saw a huge front coming with seas predicted to be above 30 feet. We decided to sit tight until its passage, although we definitely need to make up mileage on our next leg. Jay has a plane ticket out on November 30, and Donna leaves December 1, both from Antigua. Cast off is tomorrow morning – Thanksgiving Day in the US. We have 930 miles to go. We are catching up on sleep and food and showers.

Rested, relieved and happy, Team Welcome