“Here is the test to find whether your mission on earth is finished. If you’re alive, it isn’t.”
Richard Bach
Getting to the Virgin Islands was supposed to be the hard part. Once safely situated in the midst of these gorgeous, green, mountainous islands, surrounded by cerulean blue waters, vibrant sea life, luxuriously soft sand beaches complete with open air bars, what could possibly go wrong? Let’s just say that life in paradise is as wonderful as we hoped, yet the constant factor of living on a boat is never complete without chaos, breakage, and mishap. After our fist week of gawking at the rare beauty of the Virgin Islands and pinching ourselves that we really did make it, the ocean gods of persistent chaos made it quite sure we didn’t get soft and complacent.
We had just spent Christmas and New Year’s Eve in the British Virgin Islands and leisurely sailed over to the American Virgins for planned visits with friends and family in January. We had to check back into the US and did so in Cruz Bay, St. John. We toured St. John Island via Honeymoon Beach before making the hour hop over to St. Thomas to find a solution for our main roller furler. It had broken back in the BVIs. Without it, we couldn’t use our mainsail. Since hurricane Irma, we knew it would be difficult to find a rigging company that had time to look at our problem. If the mast had to come down for the repair, we were looking at thousands of dollars for the repair.
Dan painstakingly spent the next week struggling for a solution to our problem as none of the riggers on the island would even return our call. He had a slit in the mast about a foot long and 4 inches wide in which to try and repair the broken furler. I thought it was impossible, Dan took it as a challenge. He spent three solid days with drills, saws, hammers, screws, and other repair items, but darned if he didn’t get the furler repaired. It was a Herculean effort on his part and testament to his amazing problem solving and engineering abilities.
Major obstacle out of the way, we could now focus on more pleasurable tasks. Our son, Derek, would be arriving in a week to spend some time with us. Before his arrival, one of our crew members who had planned to make the crossing with us to BVI was visiting St. John. Due to our delays in crossing, Rob had to return home by Thanksgiving and didn’t get to make the trip. We wanted to meet up with him for at least a day sail.
The morning of our planned meeting in Cruz Harbor, St. John, we pulled up anchor from Secret Harbor in St. Thomas and hoisted the jib for a quick motor sail to meet Rob. The sun was shining, the crystal clear water sparkled, sea turtles poked their sleepy heads above the water to spy on the boat that woke them from their slumber.
All was glorious… we were about half way across the bay between the islands. I was blissfully doing my yoga on the fore-deck when Dan yelled that he needed me, immediately. I grabbed my mat and sprinted toward the cockpit when the acrid, bitter smell of smoke reached my nostrils. Dark waves of noxious fumes were billowing from the cabin. Dan directed me to take the wheel and shut off the engine. He disappeared down below. Being that boat fires are the number one cause of boats sinking, it is never a good thing when smoke is coming out of your cabin. I held my breath until Dan reappeared and assured me there were no flames, just a lot of smoke. He came up studied the gauges and saw that the engine temperature was dangerously high. Returning below to do an inspection and check fluid level, he returned a half hour later with the deduction that everything looked OK. He made some speculations about the starter and since the engine had cooled down a bit, tried restarting the engine. Nothing. Nada. Dead as a doornail.
We spent the next hour tacking in little wind, coming from the direction we needed to go. Painstakingly, we approached the harbor but had no engine to help with our arrival. Not panicking just yet, the amazing Captain Dan quickly devised a plan for hoisting the smaller staysail, lowering the jib, and gliding onto a mooring buoy, still keeping our appointment to meet Rob in the harbor. After all, we are sailors and have handled many different sized boats, none of which had engines, however, we have always relied on Equus’ engine for entering harbors and slips. I ran forward with a line in hand as Dan approached the mooring ball then he quickly turned up wind and coasted right up to our mark. I threw a line around the ball and within minutes, we had our boat secured. High five, success.
Only twenty minutes off our schedule, we raced in our dinghy over to the docks looking for our tall friend, Rob. As we arrived, we scanned the docks but there was no sight of him. A woman approached us that I correctly assumed was Rob’s wife. After apologizing for our tardiness and explaining our engine had died, she had some news of her own. Rob had contracted a horrible virus and was completely bedridden. We sent our condolences and hopes for a speedy recovery back with her. Since we had a serious problem to contend with, and Rob would not be joining us, we headed back to the boat to began the troubleshooting process.
There are always two ways to look at things when a major part on your boat quits working. One is to be angry and upset. The second way is to thank the heavens that you are safe in port and not out in the middle of an ocean during a crossing. While we were on St. John and not the more populated and part friendly island of Tortola, at least we were a short ferry ride from help and marine stores. Dan disappeared into the engine and began tearing things apart. He appeared in an hour with grease dripping from his hands and the starter to our engine spewing burnt wires from its core.
“Is it fixable?” I asked with hope in heart.
“Don’t think so,” Dan replied. “Looks pretty fried.”
Judging by the horrible smell still emanating from the cabin, I suspected he was right.
“It’s ok, we can still keep things charged with the generator. That’s why we have one,” Dan said, trying to comfort me. “I will turn it on.”
I waited for the sound of our genny to come to life, but was only met with silence. Silence that is, until the swearing started.
“What are the *@&#& chances!” Dan roared from below. “It was just working! How does the engine AND the generator go at the same freaking time!”
I paused reflectively for a moment and thought I could now be doubly thankful. The engine and the generator did not fail on our way to Europe in June, they both gave up now, safely in harbor. This was little comfort to Dan.
Derek was due to arrive in St. Thomas in three days. We were at a different island with no power, and not comfortable with trying to sail back into unfamiliar harbors with no engine. He would have a pretty crappy vacation on a dead boat so we resolved to get everything fixed before he arrived. After a few hours of troubleshooting, Dan discovered that the same power source that was wired to the starter, was also responsible for the generator. After some rerouting and rewiring, the generator was back in business. It was great to have power again.
Next order of business was the starter. Yanmar, our brand of engine, apparently does not ship parts outside the continental US. After a day of phone calls and emails, we couldn’t find one on the entire island of St. Thomas. (Thank you Hurricane Irma.) Our last option, with one day left before Derek arrived, was to find one in the US and have Derek carry the 25 pound part with him to our boat. He was already toting 50 pounds of materials, parts, and other Amazon orders in a duffle bag for us. Thankfully, mere hours before his departure at 4 AM the following morning, he located a starter and was able to pick it up after work. A mere $830 later, the answer to our engine problems was on a flight for St. Thomas.
We met Derek at the airport and helped with the luggage. It was a rather convoluted process to get from the airport, to the ferry harbor, cross the harbor to St. John, then find our boat in the harbor. We thought it best to meet him. We were ecstatic to see Derek and his large bags walk into the terminal. We had a quick celebratory beverage and then started the long journey home. We arrived back in St. John at dinner time, so we took Derek to the Tap and Still, our favorite beer and burger joint in the islands.
After dinner, as we were paying the bill, Derek asked the waitress why there was a message on their blackboard behind the bar that read, “Dice Roll $1062.” She explained that there was a kitty going. You spend $3 to roll the dice three times. If you roll a Yatzee, you give back 20% of the total and keep the rest. Well, this was a no brainer! Derek, of all our children, is known as the lucky one. If anyone in the family could pull this off, it would be him. I quickly ushered him to the bar, asked where we signed up, and ponied up the $3.
I was on pins and needles as Derek took the dice and spilled the white cubes for his first roll. A pair showed up. I assumed he could keep those and try two more times for Yatzee. This was not the case. It was all or nothing for the prize. You had to roll five of the same number in one roll. His second roll made me realize how low the chances were of winning, even for our lucky son. Third roll was a bust and Derek left to go use the restroom. I stared dejectedly at the dice, thinking about our rash of broken parts and just how much that money would help.
Getting up to leave, I suddenly turned to the waitress and said, “Wait, I want to try.” I don’t know where the inspiration came from, but I felt it was something I needed to do. I couldn’t give up this easily. I took the dice and my first roll was a jumbled assortment of nothing. I held my breath, said a prayer and rolled a pair. Not even close. I shook my head and cursed myself for wasting $6 dollars, as I cast my last set of die. Suddenly, I had a feeling as if time itself stopped. I thought as first I was seeing things. I looked again, counted, and verified what had appeared before my eyes. Five black dots, were laying on the counter, reoccurring on five white die. I looked up at the waitress and she was grinning, then she yelled, “Congratulations!” and came over to give me a hug. I started screaming and jumping. Derek ran back out of the restroom looking for the fire.
The next morning, while Dan installed the new starter, Derek and I took a leisurely snorkel around Honeymoon Bay. Then, we got in the dingy and went back to the bar to collect my winnings, a grand total of $960. We toasted with a celebratory beer called “Dumpster Cock IPA”. Our starter was paid for with a little left over for some Painkillers at the beach bar.
We had an amazing week with our son. He is such a fun and wonderful human being, the kind that when you spend time with, you wonder how you possibly could be responsible for bringing such goodness into this world. It makes a momma and poppa so proud. The sun shined on us, we went scuba diving, paddle boarding, bar hopping, and fishing. Derek is the fisherman in the family and reeled in dinner and then some. And when it came time for him to leave, Dan and I felt the familiar pain of the life we have chosen. While we love it, the one very difficult part for us is watching our kids leave after they visit. We both cry.
The silver lining of course is that our engine now has a new starter and hopefully we can cross in June to Europe without any major breakages. As we sit in Secret Harbor, St. Thomas, Dan continues to do repairs and make our vessel safe. I have been sewing up a storm, selling many of my sailcloth items. I even sewed a new sailcover for our friends on “Whatever She Wants”. It was a first for me, lots of fun, and something I can now add to my repertoire.
We have continued to have fun with our travel buddies Maryann and Gary on S/V Whatever She Wants. They spent the month in the Paradise Marina just down the road from our harbor. Being the gregarious couple they are, of course they made several friends at the marina – who of course became our friends too. These wonderful people facilitated our travel on the island and were wonderfully helpful in so many ways. A big THANK YOU to Jeff and Karen and Wayne and Kinta for being our personal taxi service.
Equus and Whatever She Wants will be heading away from these islands down to the Spanish Virgins, located a few miles from Puerto Rico, in a week. My 88-year old mother will be visiting as well as my sister, Carol, and some other friends. From there we will be island hopping with several destinations in mind. We will have three months of regatta weeks, carnivals, and unique island experiences. While lots of fun will be involved, we also know this entire voyage is a constant learning process. It requires adjustments, problem solving, and lots of patience. The only way I know our journey is not over yet is that we are still alive. We are thankful, we are blessed, and we are thoroughly enjoying this wild ride.
Fair winds and following seas,
Alison and Dan
s/v Equus