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Dec 29, 2003 Cheyenne slipped like a dolphin through the multi-hued water, her 50 feet of sleek fiberglass hull heeling at 15 degrees in the steady Caribbean breeze. The rising tropical sun cast a shimmering trail of light across the azure-and-cobalt waters of Sir Francis Drake Channel. The island of Tortola lay to the north, while Virgin Gorda, green and cool, rose out of the sea in the east. The smell of coffee drifted from the galley and blended with the tang of sea air in the cockpit of our Oceanis 500, a fully-equipped sloop chartered from Paradise Yacht Charters. Warm trade winds filled the sails and drove us along at a steady seven knots. The water flowed past the sleek hull with a soft, soothing gurgle, and our white foaming wake stretched straight and true behind us. Our ten day cruise in the Virgin Islands was already half over. For almost 20 years I had dreamed of skippering a yacht in tropical waters. When I finally ran headlong into the reality of planning a cruise, an almost overwhelming sequence of choices became apparent. Some of these choices were correct; others were blunders. Aside from the obvious purpose of a cruise, to have fun, swim, snorkel, sunbathe, and to relax, I also wanted to take some travel photos and write at least one travel article about the cruise. My stepdaughter Wendy and I had been trying to get a freelance writing and photography business going. Wendy and her friend had to cancel at the last minute due to a change of jobs. My stepson Bobby and his new wife Lisa signed on, and the crew list grew from there like staphylococcus on an agar plate. The final motley crew included Lisa’s friend from law school, Jenny; Jenny’s fiancé, Ron; Bobby’s friend from high school, Jeff; our neighbors, Pam and Bob; my stepson, Jeffrey; and my wife, Nancy. A fifty-foot boat with ten people aboard approximates a sardine-can in elbow room, assuming sardines had elbows. Coping with the crowding became a major project. Only one of the crew, Lisa, had any significant sailing experience, and that was on little sailboats such as Hobie Cats, and was all on small lakes, not the open sea. Despite the lack of an experienced crew, I still thought we could manage bareboating. For those not familiar with boating terms, bareboating has nothing to do with the state of dress of the crew, but refers to the chartering, or renting, of a bare boat, one with no hired crew. A bareboat skipper must of necessity be an experienced sailor. No well-run charter company will allow a totally inexperienced crew to leave the dock. If bareboating appeals to you but you lack knowledge of seamanship, you will have to acquire the skills or find a friend who is a skilled sailor to head your group. If you choose to acquire the skills, classes given by the U. S. Power Squadrons or the Coast Guard Auxiliary can help, but there is no substitute for on-the-water experience. The charter company will ask for your sailing resume; if it shows little experience, the company may require that you demonstrate competency before permitting you to leave the dock, or you may be required to hire a professional skipper. Though there is a special thrill to holding ultimate responsibility for a vessel in your hands, some experienced skippers find it more relaxing to hire crew to do the sailing chores. The cost of a hired captain will be about $130 per day. If you hire crew, you can rest assured that the professional captain will be as unobtrusive as possible. As one charter service manager, a young lady with a delightful British accent said on Tortola, "The professional captains will do everything they can to respect your privacy." She pronounced it "prih-vuh-see." Once you decide to charter a boat and whether to hire crew, the next step is choosing a cruising ground. Geographic proximity, the experience of the crew, the time period available for the vacation, and the expected weather at certain times of year can influence this decision. Popular areas include the Bahamas, the Florida Keys, the island chains of the Caribbean, and more exotic areas such as the South Pacific and the Mediterranean. I chose the Virgin Islands for several reasons. First, the Virgins are among the loveliest cruising grounds in the world: The water is crystal-clear and gemstone-hued in shades of lapis lazuli, cobalt, turquoise, and sapphire, and the beaches are bright and clean. The islands themselves are a cool, lush green when viewed from the sea. Second, the Virgins are close and accessible, lying just east of Puerto Rico and a short jet flight from the mid- Atlantic states. Third, it is the easiest sailing in the world for inexperienced crew. The easterly trade winds are steady and gentle, the gin-clear water reveals most hazards, the sailing distances are short and always within sight of land, plentiful bays await the drop of an anchor, and the water is generally smooth, protected as it is by the islands. Fourth, the climate allows sailing, sunning, and swimming any time of year, with air and water averaging 81 (+ 2) degrees F. all year round. Fifth, we had both experienced and novice scuba divers in the crew, and the waters around the Virgins hold a variety of undersea life, reef structures, and shipwrecks to make scuba diving exciting, yet guided underwater tours keep conditions safe for less experienced divers. Once we nailed down the destination, we selected the time. October would be late enough to miss most of the hurricane season, late summer and early fall, but it is still in the discount- pricing season for chartering companies. The cost of a boat will probably be surprisingly low to those inexperienced with chartering, especially during the off-season, roughly May to November. If you can start and end the cruise on weekdays rather than weekends, you will save on your airline tickets also, and have an easier time booking flights. This flexibility depends on whether the boat you desire is available. The charter company needs time to clean, refuel, fill water tanks, and do routine maintenance between charters. This brings up the choice of charter companies. I purchased a couple sailing magazines from the local bookstore, wrote to all the charter companies I could find listed for the Virgin Islands, and soon had a mailbox full of brochures. Selecting a boat was a matter of checking out the cabin layouts to make sure the bunk space and cabin arrangements would handle our crew, calling the phone numbers, discussing prices and available times, and making a choice. If you know someone who has chartered in the Virgins, ask them their opinion of the various charter companies. Most boaters closely eyeball other yachts and are good judges of the quality of maintenance. Our observations of the boats we saw in many ports suggests that The Moorings and Sunsail are two class acts in the charterboat business, with new, well-maintained boats and friendly staff, though most of the other companies do a good job also. After booking the yacht, I wrote a cruise plan detailing destinations, times, costs per person, recommended equipment and supplies needed (non- skid boating shoes, sunscreen, polarized high- density sunglasses, regular medication, etc.), weather conditions to expect, and a general outline of the sailing route, and mailed this to all prospective crew members. In addition, I attached a two-page article from a sailing magazine covering the important elements of sailing for inexperienced crew. For my own use, I started a list of necessary equipment, such as a diver flag to alert other boats that scuba divers were down, and I pulled a few boating manuals from the shelf and dusted them off to refresh my seamanship skills. In addition, I bought a set of nautical charts for the Virgin Islands and began plotting courses between prospective anchorages and making corrections from the latest Notices to Mariners. I met with those crew members who lived nearby to familiarize them with nautical charts, navigation tools, knots, sail handling, and basic seamanship. We even discussed menus and divvied up cooking chores, though we ended up eating onshore in restaurants eight out of ten nights All this preparation may seem excessive to inexperienced boaters, but being captain of a vessel imparts a feeling of awesome responsibility to anyone who has been out on the wide sea in a small boat, even in such friendly waters as the Virgins. All the preparation paid off. We arrived October 6th at the airport on St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands, and shuttled to Redhook Bay on the east end of the island. Our driver Rudy was a movie star who had a small part in “Weekend at Bernie’s 2.” There, the yacht Cheyenne, gleaming white and glowing in the golden light of the setting sun, lay snugly against the pier. A professional skipper hired by Paradise Yacht Charters for a small extra fee had brought her from home base on Tortola We could have flown directly to Tortola, but the flight would have cost more and Nancy and Pam wanted time on St. Thomas for shopping. The ferry to Tortola was another option, but we would have had to wrestle the luggage on and off the ferry and pay ferry’s fees for ten people. It was well worth the price of the yacht’s delivery to Redhook. If shopping in Charlotte Amalie is not a necessity, though, I would suggest flying into Tortola, which requires a change of planes in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Loading the gear on the boat took only a few minutes, and then the charter company skipper familiarized us with Cheyenne, including the location of equipment and the use of the heads, and he explained the places to clear customs when sailing between U.S. and British waters. Most helpful, he imparted useful tidbits of local knowledge about sailing in the Virgins, especially the location of the rare hazardous reefs. No need to add to the large number of sunken shipwrecks already lying beneath the Virgins' waters. After the briefing, we ate supper at a local restaurant, and then the crew chose their cabins. There were five separate cabins on Cheyenne, three with double berths and two with two single berths. This arrangement allowed some privacy, though anyone familiar with small boats knows that privacy is a relative thing. The crew of a small boat requires a sense of humor, a mutual respect, and a friendly compatibility. We finally settled in to sleep. The gentle rocking and the slap of waves against the hull were familiar to me, and quite welcome and relaxing. I slept soundly. Though Cheyenne had numerous hatches and portholes, the night was warm and humid, which was annoying to several of the crew. I had brought one windscoop and rigged it over a forward hatch. This moved only minimal air through the cabins. I learned later that some other charter companies provide several windscoops per vessel. Only a few of the largest boats will have air conditioning. The morning came with the rumble of fishing boats firing up engines, the mournful cry of seagulls, and the reddish light of the tropic sun rising over St. John, the island to our east. We lit the galley stove, made tea, poured cereal for breakfast, and soon were ready to leave the dock. Careful rehearsal paid off, as the docklines were cast off skillfully and Cheyenne slowly gained way and pointed her bow out the channel toward our first day as roving sea gypsies. If you believe that, I have a bridge in Brooklyn I will sell cheap. Despite what I thought were explicit instructions, one crew member didn't cast off the assigned line, and I was too rusty a skipper to notice. As I advanced the throttle, a dock cleat ripped off with a horrendous groan of splitting wood. Luckily, no one was hurt, Bobby donned mask and fins and recovered the cleat, and we departed less violently a few minutes later. This was not to be the last of my oversights. Part Two to follow. ------------ About the author: 62-yr-old physician, still practicing, retired from 41 years intermittent military service as of June 1, 2003. Just write for the fun of it. Currently writing a novel. Email Brooks A. Mick: brooks15@cox.net Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
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