“In the vastness of the sea, we find our strength not just in calm waters, but in the storms that test our resolve.” Alison Gieschen
It has been a while since my last blog post about our time in Cape Verde. Before Mindelo, we spent a month in Las Palmas, Canaries waiting for our autopilot motor to be repaired. It was our planto directly cross from Las Palmas to the Caribbean. As we set out across the Atlantic, the autopilot system failed after three days in and all the money we paid for the repairs. We diverted to Cape Verde, another island chain further south off the coast of Africa. It seemed prudent to bite the bullet and replace the entire system. This turned out to be an expensive and lengthy endeavor, but we both decided that we needed a reliable system to make the 2,200-mile voyage across the Atlantic.
Sailing across the vast sea with our new system guiding us was a wonderful feeling. After four years of long and unexpected delays in Europe and the Mediterranean, our hopes soared as we prepared to resume our circumnavigation. This lifestyle constantly challenges us with bad weather, broken parts, and unpredictable situations. The past few months have been a whirlwind of highs and lows, reflecting the unpredictable nature of our sailing adventures.
CROSSING THE ATLANTIC
It took us 18 days to cross from Mindelo, Cape Verde to make landfall in Barbados, the Eastern most island in the Caribbean Chain. As far as ocean crossings go, it was mainly uneventful. The winds stayed steady most of the time, between 10 and 20 knots. We had a couple of little to no breeze days which made our passage longer. Overall, we had an amazing, peaceful passage for which we are grateful.
We settled into a simple routine of night watches. I went to bed around seven or eight each evening. Dan would wake me around 3:00 AM and I would take watch the rest of the night until Dan woke up later that morning. I got plenty of sleep and loved the schedule of only taking one night shift and being awake for the sunrise. I love to watch the new day dawning. There is something magical about watching the sunrise.
Watches were easy as the weather cooperated and we saw only four other ships during our passage. One night, a merchant ship was on a collision course with us. I spotted it on our AIS (Automatic Identification System) which tells you the ship name, its course, and how far it will pass from your boat. At forty miles out, we were in its path. I jumped the gun a bit and went down and woke up Dan. He came up and took one look at how far away it was and grumbled something about it being too far away to worry about yet, and went back to bed.
I realized my mistake and waited for the ship to get closer. Since these ships travel at 15 to 20 miles an hour and we were making five knots going toward it, it only took about an hour before we were close enough for me to be really concerned. I vowed not to wake Dan up. I wanted to be a big girl and handle this by myself. When the ship was less than two miles away and we were still on a collision course, I decided it was time to hail the ship on the radio. As a sailboat, we have the right of way and he must avoid us. I was not going to leave it to chance that it altered course.
Just as I was reaching for the radio, a foreign-accented voice called “Equus (pronounced e-cuse) Equus, Equus.” I breathed a sigh of relief that the ship was aware of our presence and had contacted us.
I had a brief dialogue with the ship. They asked me if it was okay if they passed to our stern on their port side. I replied, “Of course,” as that is where they should be passing to give us room. When I looked at the AIS screen, they had altered course but were still going to clear us by half a mile. While this may seem like a huge distance, when you are on a tiny boat being passed by a thousand-foot vessel, it seems way too close.
As the ship passed abreast of us, lit up like a city, it towed into the sky like a skyscraper. It made me realize what a tiny speck we were on the surface of the ocean compared to that vessel. Thanks to modern electronics, we are able to stay safe as long as we remain alert. Hence the reason for night watches. I was proud that I resolved the situation myself and didn’t wake up Dan again. I AM the bravest coward I know.
Fishy Fish Everywhere
Crossing an ocean in good weather is kind of like going into hibernation. You eat less, you sleep more, and you adjust to the vast horizon around you. You settle into a routine; a very simple schedule. You adjust to the idea that you are now one with the endless water stretching around you in all directions. You are a speck in an infinite body of water with only the nuances of the progressing day as your change of scenery. You have the sky, the sunrise, and the sunset as the only variables in your day. At night, you have a panoramic view of a massive star-lit dome above you. The stars and moon are brilliant with no ambient light, magnifying the heavens with an unbelievable intensity. That was mostly how our passage went.
We did have a few tense moments when the wind went from calm to a rising intensity. At a wind strength was less than 15 knots, we fly our giant spinnaker. Our horse head flew above us as our sea pony pulled us across the water with greater speed than could our other sails. As the wind increase one evening, we had to react quickly and get the spinnaker down before we got overpowered. The result was some unfortunate breakages and loss of halyards that got our hearts racing and adrenaline flowing, nothing major just inconvenient. As soon as the situation was resolved, we drifted, like our boat, back into the ebb and flow and routine of the passage.
During the day, we saw schools of flying fish skipping across the ocean’s surface trying to evade whatever larger fish was swimming below. It was entertaining to watch them scatter, flap their winged fins, and either soar long distances or skip off the waves. Apparently, night predators are just as prevalent and there was a lot of soaring and skipping going on overnight. In the morning we routinely found the evidence on our boat- the dried bodies of those who accidentally skipped onto our deck.
I made it my morning routine to wander the deck and retrieve the bodies. Sometimes there were fairly large victims, others were as tiny as my pinky. When I tossed them overboard and looked at the height of our deck and saw how far these little guys had to fly to reach it, I was amazed. Those I didn’t find right away, hidden beneath something on the deck, it wasn’t as pleasant discovering and discarding them after they began to decay.
Our very limited moments of excitement involved catching fish. We watched a Mahi bite off our brand-new lure. We caught a medium-sized fish which we could not identify for sure, but it tasted great. And Dan managed to land a 20-pound tuna which I delighted in cooking for a week straight. Other than a few pods of dolphins taking time to play in our bow wake, time was gauged by the rising and the lowering of the sun.
Landfall – Barbados
Finally, on the morning of April 18th, shortly after sunrise, we turned on our motor to approach the islands. The wind was failing and we were eager to make landfall. There was a pale fog blanketing the sun and everything in our purview was in monochrome. The sea was choppy and I did not feel any exuberance at completing this passage as I have after past passages. Everything had been so peaceful and easy at sea. I was not sure I was ready to take on the chaos of land life.
The land remained hidden in the misty fog until we were very close. The island of Barbados finally emerged in a hazy outline. From our view, it did not have the appearance of an exotic tropical island. All I could make out of the shoreline were some rugged tree-covered hills. I guess I was expecting palm trees, white sandy beaches, and brilliant sunshine after traveling over 2,000 miles to land in the Caribbean. I have come to learn that my expectations and the realities of this journey are often on opposite ends of the spectrum.
We motored to the west side of the island and found the quaint harbor of Port St. Charles, one of only two harbors where sailboats can anchor in Barbados. I finally was able to see the colorful Caribbean-style harbor I had been dreaming about. Unfortunately, the bottom, while sandy, had rock just beneath the surface. We had to make three anchoring attempts before we got the anchor to hold. We had very little strength or energy which made the process much worse than it probably should have been; I MAY have been a little testy by our third attempt.
As soon as we were secure, and food in our bellies, we retreated to the stern just in time for sunset. We sat in our deck chairs. Dan popped the bottle of champagne we had saved for just this occasion and we toasted to a safe passage, a safe arrival, and hopefully, the beginning of magical adventures in the Caribbean. As always when a long passage has been completed, we slept that first night in an almost comatose state.
The Mysterious Barbados
Many who sail the Caribbean Islands do not make the upwind run to Barbados. The trade winds generally flow east to west. To sail to Barbados, you have a several-day passage, depending on where you are sailing from, going upwind unless you are crossing the Atlantic as we had. We could have made landfall on a more popular island like Martinique or St. Martin, but we chose to visit the smaller and more remote island because of its isolation
The island spans 166 square miles. Pristine beaches with powdery white sand and turquoise waters attract tourists worldwide, while the rugged east coast, shaped by the Atlantic Ocean, presents a dramatic contrast. Barbados has crystal-clear water and an incredible array of sea life. It is a snorkeling and diving paradise. We donned our scuba gear for the first time since we left the Caribbean in 2019 and relished diving in the warm water with beautiful reefs and vibrant fish right off our boat where we were anchored.
Barbadians, known as Bajans, are known for their warmth, and friendliness. Even the customs officials were kind and welcoming. They seemed very concerned that we
enjoyed the island experience. We did take a bus to the lower side of the island, Bridgetown, their most historic port. We passed a lot of poverty along the way. Small school children, as young as six or seven, were taking the public bus to and from school with no adult supervision. Like many of the Caribbean islands, there were plush tourist resorts and lots of attractions like forts and of course, rum factories.
This island is pricey so we did not stay long, just a week, before we headed off to our next destination. We pulled up anchor at noon and in one overnight passage, we arrived the next morning at the island of Canouan, part of the Grenadines south of Saint Vincent.
Sailing in the Caribbean Islands
Visiting the Caribbean Islands by sailboat is challenging. Each island can be its own country, or two or more islands can be owned by the same country. When you arrive at an island, you must “check in”. When you leave you must check out. If you do not have the right paperwork completed, you could be fined or kicked out. It is the protocol to display the flag of each island country you are visiting; therefore, you must have the whole array of island flags. When we arrived in Canouan (which is part of Saint Vincent), we realized we didn’t have their flag. Thanks to our trusty Sailrite sewing machine, we were able to whip one up.
We checked into the country of Saint Vincent in Canouan, a small and very poor island. We only stayed a day before sailing a few miles to Tortuga Cay which is part of an extensive marina park. It has a huge population of sea turtles as the name suggests. We had to pay a fee to be in the park; we got a three-day pass. For three glorious days, we snorkeled, donned our scuba gear, and had amazing encounters with tons of sea turtles. We dove on vibrant reefs brimming with colorful sea life. It was a little slice of heaven.
One of the huge attractions in Tortuga Cay is the beach restaurants. The smell of grilled delights drifted to the boats in the harbor during the day. Fishermen were busily dinghying in freshly caught fish for the nightly feast. Dinghies would drive up to your anchored boat and knock on your hull. A dark-skinned native would say “Hey mon, you need to come to the beach tonight and have dinner.” We made our reservation, totally charmed by the invitation.
Each evening, before sunset, the picnic tables began filling up. The cuisine featured grilled ribs and seafood and amazing side dishes. Dan and I dressed up for our reserved date and took our paddle board over to the beach. It was a delightful atmosphere, bare feet in the sand, waves lapping on the shore while we feasted. The highlight was watching the sunset from our open-air dining experience, as we pinched ourselves, forgetting our past struggles with the journey and reminding ourselves, “Today, we live here.”
Bequia was another gorgeous island we visited during our island hopping. We ended up staying there for a couple of weeks. It was so gorgeous and peaceful that we felt as if we could rest there forever. The beautiful, white sand beaches were lined with restaurants and pubs. We could pick and choose which beachside bar we would spend happy hour, or simply sit on the stern of our boat and take in the views.
The harbor faced west so we took delight in the magnificent sunset show each night. The harbor is usually quite busy as many sailors come to Bequia to spend extended stays. You can’t blame them as you will want for nothing. The harbor is protected. You have fresh fruits and veggies sold streetside. There are beautiful trails to hike into the mountains. The water is warm and crystal clear. We had gorgeous reefs to snorkel and dive on. Life was so peaceful and perfect there I was hesitant to pull up anchor. However, there was a lot more of paradise to explore. Sadly, Bequia would be meeting Hurricane Beryl soon and most of the town and the beautiful beach restaurants would be damaged.
From Bequia, we headed south to Carriacou. Since Carriacou is part of the Grenada Islands, we had checked out at Bequia and checked in to Grenada at Tyrell Bay, Carriacou. Once legal, we headed north again to see the islands we had to skip. Our first anchorage was another marina park which was a strip of white sand with a few palm trees on it aptly named “Sandy Island.” This tiny strip of island was surrounded by gorgeous reefs. We were treated to more great snorkeling and incredible marine life.
Right across from Sandy Island is a bay on the island of Carriacou with a famous little restaurant called Paradise Bay Restaurant. They lure you over with water taxis which come to visit you during the day, offering to pick you up for free if you go over and dine at the restaurant. Wednesdays are paint and sip night. You begin the evening by being given a piece of wood on which you paint your boat name and country. The finished plaques decorate the entire exterior of the restaurant. It’s a charming place where you feel the presence of the hundreds of boats from around the world that have drifted to this harbor.
We went to the event with a few of the sailors we had met at the anchorage and had an incredible evening. The painting was fun, the beverages delightful and our meal was delicious. The entire experience was a five out of five. Unfortunately, Paradise Restaurant was about to take a direct hit from the looming category five hurricane Beryl. Thankfully, we were not there for that devastating event. All the painted boat plaques have been erased from history.
Bracing for Impact: Preparing for the Impending Hurricane
There are certain harbors in the Caribbean known as “hurricane holes,” protected harbors should a hurricane occur. Hurricanes can begin developing in June, although they are rare. The the end of hurricane season is November 1st. Most boat insurance companies, including ours, will not cover damage done to your boat if you are above the 12th parallel and are damaged by a named storm during hurricane season. The lower part of Grenada is at the 12th parallel (accepted as safe by the insurance companies) and a very popular place for sailors to wait out the hurricane season. Clarkes Court Marina in St. Georges, Grenada was where we headed, a renowned hurricane hole.
We had a trip scheduled to fly back to the US for two weeks and needed to leave our boat somewhere safe as we were traveling in the middle of June. It is not advisable to leave your boat unattended at anchor in a foreign country. The chance of a hurricane arriving was slim to none. Hurricanes do not usually ramp up until August and September, the most active months for hurricanes.
Killing two birds with one stone, we pulled our boat out of the water and placed it in the boatyard while we flew back to the US out of the nearby airport in Grenada. I planned a visit with my mom, Gerry Lancto, in Charleston and my sister, Carol Land, on her beautiful horse farm in Brevard, NC. Next, we flew to Pittsburg where we had a Gieschen Family Reunion in the beautiful PA mountains. We also celebrated Dan’s father, Dave Gieschen’s, 90th birthday. The event was topped off by the baptism of our newest grandbaby, Ryder Keville, by the hands of Dave who is a retired Lutheran minister. He has performed all the wedding ceremonies in the family and baptized all our babies and grandbabies. We had an amazing time as one big family and enjoyed playing games, alpine slides, disc golf, white water rafting, pickle ball, and family feasts. Since we’ve started this nomadic life, this kind of family time together has been extra special for us.
While visiting my mom, she organized a Happy Hour Sea Stories event at her retirement community. We filled the room, told our stories, and sold all the copies of our books that we had mailed to her apartment. We had an enthusiastic audience that loved our stories. We are so grateful to everyone who attended and encouraged us. They warmed our hearts with their compliments.
Preparing for a Hurricane
With the whirlwind visits over, four flights, eight hours of driving, a car rental, and a book signing event, we made our way back to the little island of Grenada to live on board our boat in the dry dock while we finished up a few repairs. Mere hours after we were back, it was announced that a hurricane was brewing on the horizon. This was unthinkable as it was way too early in the season for a hurricane. Furthermore, Grenada had not seen a hurricane in twenty years. We pulled our boat out in Grenada specifically because there would be no hurricanes, and yet, one was predicted to hit Grenada in three days.
I was terrified. Hurricane Beryl had developed into a category five hurricane and we were in its path. I’ve seen pictures of boatyards where hurricanes have ripped through. There is usually not a boat standing after the event. As we were living on our boat, twenty feet in the air, I was afraid that our boat would get knocked over with us inside. To give the marina credit, they did an excellent job of tying each boat to huge cement blocks fore and aft. The boatyard is surrounded by massive cliffs, protecting it from the wind. What we did not know, was whether it would be enough.
Beryl was due to arrive Monday during the day. As we waited, secured and ready as we could be, we formed a backup plan. If things got too bad, we would abandon our boat and go to a house just outside the marina used for the security staff. We were told we could take refuge there if needed. This provided me with some consolation that we would not have to go down with our ship.
If you follow our journey, while we do have our rough patches, we do have the theme “We are exactly where we need to be, when we are meant to be there.” We seem to have a guiding presence watching over us to keep us safe. This premise was tested as Beryl barreled down on these islands. As it hit, the destruction was immense. The island of Carriacou was destroyed. The Paradise Cove Restaurant was erased. The other side of Grenada was totally devastated. Other islands, such as Tortuga Cay and Bequia were destroyed or heavily damaged. We had almost pulled our boat out at Carriacou, but at the last minute decided to go to Clarke’s Court because of its proximity to an airport. No boats were left standing in the boatyard in Carriacou.
We remained in our boat during the hurricane. We never even felt threatened to leave. The walls protected us from all the wind. Wind hit in the 60-mph range in the harbor next to us where boats dragged anchor and were damaged, but our walls completely sheltered us. We had our wind gauge on during the storm and the highest reading we saw was 27 knots. That wind gust lasted about three seconds. The tops of the hills we could see from our boat took extensive damage, trees fell, and roads collapsed, but we were safely nestled in the most protected place on the island.
What’s Next for Equus
For being in a historically devastating hurricane, we could not have fared any better. Unfortunately, the repairs we scheduled have not gone well. There have been complications, and more breakages caused during the repair process. We are two weeks past when we wanted to be back in the water. We have no refrigeration, no breeze because we are so well protected, we are terrorized by biting insects and mosquitos. The interior of our boat is torn apart for the repairs. We have very little living space. We must go down a 20 ft. ladder and walk across the boatyard to use the bathroom. Life has not been easy these past few weeks.
All will be resolved and we will be back in the water soon. We will continue to explore the southern Caribbean islands as we make our way toward South America. Our plan is to go through the Panama Canal and into the Pacific next spring.
My Inspiration
As I sat down today to write this post, I was feeling sorry for myself. I was hot, my insect bites were itching, and swearing was filtering up from the cabin as Dan faced his repair demons. I had nothing positive to write and began my first negative blog post. Just then, my phone rang. It was my mother. She went on in a very excited fashion about a book she had just finished reading, You Are the Placebo: Making Your Mind Matter. She described it as life-changing. That is quite a feat when you have spent 94 years living on this planet.
The basics of what she told me was that she understands how the power of positive thinking can truly change your life, mentally and physically. As I sat there, dwelling on my current irritations, I thought how miraculous it was that my mother called, when I most needed it and reminded me how important it is to stay positive. You can’t always control what is happening in your life. It can be hurricanes, boat parts breaking, or any unfortunate event. What you do have control over is how you view the situation. You can be grateful for what you do have. You can think positive thoughts. You can believe that you will overcome and gain strength. She was a breath of fresh air in a stagnant moment; just what I needed to jar myself out of my self-pity. I have so much to be thankful for, and so much to look forward to, there is no need to let temporary discomfort dictate my outlook and my feelings.
I revised my post, changed my attitude, and had a wonderful evening with my husband. We are looking forward to being back in the water soon, and we will let these cloudy waters pass under our hull. We have been through tougher times than these and we have made it this far. We knew this adventure would not be easy. There is quite a contrast between the beauty and our beasts and we need to accept each as part of the journey.
Thank you, mother, for your wisdom, strength, and your understanding of how to navigate through turbulent times. You continue to be my role model. You awe me with your passion for life, learning, and improving the quality of life. You will always be my hero.
Fair winds,
Alison and Dan
S/V Equus