Dudes Will Be Dudes

The weeks leading up to the trip were filled with numerous boasts of the silliness to come.  These materialized on TravelTalkOnline for all to read, or through e-mails exchanged between us.  Either way, I knew it was going to be an action-packed week.

I am going to break from tradition and deliver a different type of trip report.  No lengthy planning details, no airline horror stories, I will not tell you the exact time we pulled anchor, nor the point of sail and compass bearing, or what we had for lunch.  Instead, I will focus on the highlights.  Every trip is filled with colorful anecdotes, and with this batch of characters together, the problem is deciding which stories to tell and which ones to leave on the cutting room floor.  Here are a few of them, in no particular order.

Sail Simulator Planning

Hervé carefully worked the itinerary over in his Microsoft Sail Simulator for several weeks, just to make sure we squeezed everything possible into the trip.  Thank God for computer software or we would just be nowhere.  A few days before departure, I received an e-mail with the final plan.  Here is an excerpt:

“With Ray coming on Saturday I’ve had to reenter new data in the sail simulator for the 1st day.

Day 1

1:10 PM     Landing Beef Island
2:00 PM     Arriving Base
2:05 PM     Painkiller
2:05 to 4:12 PM     Loading beer and rum on the boat
4:13 PM     Leaving Maya Cove
4:17 PM     Hoist main sail
4:18 PM     JD down with exhaustion
4:20 PM     Sail up, unfurl the Jib
4:21 PM     Engage “James” with instructions for the Bight
4:22 PM     Painkiller
4:32 PM     Painkiller
4:42 PM     Considering another painkiller
4:50 PM     Entering the Bight put the Painkiller down to concentrate on the approach…..
4:55 PM     World premiere Mama Cocha RAFTS up to the west side of the Willy T.
5:00 PM     The Dudes perform their synchronized jumping from the top of the Willy T…
5:15 PM     Authorities arrive on the scene……”

I pointed out that the 2 hours loading time for the beer and rum could be cut considerably by scheduling the 2:05 Painkiller for AFTER we finish loading.  That way, it would only take 5 minutes to load the boat and we could spend the surplus 1:55 on more Painkillers.  The promise of a PK is a known motivator.  Further time could be cut at 4:42 PM – I had pre-considered my options and said “Yes” in advance.

Rafting Party

The first destination was the Bight at Norman Island and the Willy T bar for drinks and dinner.  We arrived late in the afternoon after a three-quarter-rummer sail from Maya Cove (the distances are miniscule on a catamaran - we’ll either have to get a slower boat or smaller glasses).  JD was skipper, practicing his skills.  Hervé lay on the trampoline with a Rummer, practicing his.

He ordered JD to raft up to the Willy T on the West side, apparently wanting to be served promptly.  Besides, we did not want to bother getting into and out of the dinghy later in the dark.  It would be dangerous, given the alcohol intake we were about to engage in.

JD, now designated “Apprentice Master Raftsman,” was at the helm and proceeded to execute the maneuver.  As we approached, Al (who is the bartender/ cook/ waiter/ busboy/ dishwasher/ janitor/ repairman) waved us off as he stared in horror at what we were trying to do.  JD was ordered to ignore him and proceed with the rafting.  Unfortunately, nobody told JD that you do not execute such a maneuver at flank speed, so it was no wonder that none of us were able to grab hold of anything as we rocketed by.  Al of course, offered no assistance and we missed the target, badly.

I knew we were cooked when it took all of our collective efforts to keep the bowsprit of the Willy T from de-masting Mama Cocha, and clearing her decks of all of its effects.  It was a great idea on paper, but in practice, our execution was lacking.  At this moment, we became The Duds.  Wisely, we gave up and resorted to the dinghy.

Coast Guard Boarding

We were really crushed by our failure to raft up to the Willy T.  Next morning, we took a sail around the island of St. John that included a pass through Trunk Bay.  As we departed, Hervé spotted a Coast Guard vessel at anchor and headed right for it.  I though it would be great to see it up close, but I was not prepared for Hervé’s definition of close - he wanted to scrape the paint off the side.

As Hervé approached to less than ten feet, the crew of the vessel, who had been suspicious all along, opened the flaps of their sidearm holsters.  The CO emerged from the bridge.  I was concerned.

Thankfully, I was able to think on my feet and blurted out something that sounded military and official, “Could I have a SitRep (militaryspeak for Situation Report) on the upcoming tropical disturbance, SIR!”.  The crew immediately relaxed, thinking I was military, and proceeded to give me the full weather report using military-only terms.  I just nodded as the words went in one ear and out the other.  I have no idea what they said.  I just saluted as we left.  Thank God for BS and the ability to administer and manage it freely.  It’s such a versatile and transportable skill.  Thanks to it, we made it through another day without being arrested.  Or shot at.

Lather Up

A short while later, the beginning of the Tropical Disturbance (which later became Hurricane Isidore) graced us with its presence in the form of a massive white squall.  Now, most people run for cover at the sight of rain.  I stay out because the rain is warm and it provides a very refreshing opportunity to cool down and wash the salt off you.  Try it sometimes and you will enjoy one of the great Caribbean experiences.

Hervé fetched a bottle of Joy dish detergent and tossed it at JD.  He lathered up and the results are as follows.  He was squeaky clean to say the least.

The Four Moons of Jost Van Dyke

This one requires no further explanation other than a confirmation that the land mass in the background is indeed the island of Jost Van Dyke.

On The Beach

Hervé had been threatening to beach Mama Cocha for the entire day.  I did not believe him.  So, when we arrived at Sandy Cay, he did just that, as shown in the photo below.  That’s right, $350K worth of fiberglass, on the beach.

The shore came up fast, so only the front part of the pontoons actually touched.  When I inspected the hulls later, there was not a scratch on either.  I have to admit, it took a great deal of skill to execute this maneuver without Mama Cocha becoming a permanent fixture of this island. 

A similar maneuver was attempted later in the week at Savannah Bay, with somewhat less success.  The grade was much less steep and the depth sounder was improperly calibrated, so you can imagine the look on Hervé’s face when we stopped hard several hundred feet from shore.  It took all the reverse power Scotty had in the engine room and several tense minutes before we finally limped away.  It was the last time Hervé ever mentioned the idea of beaching the cat.

MOB

Throughout the trip, I had a growing feeling that Hervé really belonged in an institution.  One morning, he proved that conclusively. We were on our way to Virgin Gorda, enjoying our breakfast Rummers with “James” the autopilot in command, when, without warning, Hervé jumped off the stern yelling “Man Overboard.”

This was quite inconvenient.  I looked at Ray and asked, “Wad’ya think?  Should we go back and get him, or pour another round?”  He reluctantly agreed to go back.  It took nearly a minute to find a flat spot to put my Rummer down without spilling it.  Those French boat builders really need to re-engineer the surfaces near the helm.  I had never touched the autopilot on this boat, so it took a further minute of pressing every button on that damn thing to finally get it to relinquish control of the helm.  I was really annoyed at Hervé now, this was work!

I instructed Ray to maintain continuous visual contact with Hervé at all times and for JD to rig a trailing line while I turned the boat for the pickup.  The downwind approach worked perfectly and we had him alongside the port pontoon in under two minutes.  I idled the port engine while he climbed aboard the swim ladder.

We really should have left him there and nicknamed him “Swims With The Fishes.”  Instead he is now known as MOB.

Busted in Anegada

Here’s some good news to send home to Mom - four Dudes being taken into custody on Anegada Island.  Before anybody says “I told you so about these guys,” I have to ruin a good tale and confess that all is not what it seems.

What actually happened leading up to this moment?  The bus delivering us from the Anegada Reef Hotel to the Big Bamboo in Loblolly Bay broke down.  After several minutes of four totally clued-out armchair mechanics looking under the hood, the local Police arrived, offering to take passengers to the bar.  We seized that Kodak Moment to produce the photo and a great story.

Us and Them

After a day of laying around on the boat at Cooper Island, listening to the sounds of Pink Floyd, Hervé radioed the Cooper Island Beach Club for dinner reservations.  The British staff there were a little short on humor, so he did not strictly adhere to standard VHF radio protocol.  The exchange went something like this.

Hervé: “Cooper Island Beach Club, Cooper Island Beach Club, this is us, over”
CIBC: “Cooper Island Beach Club responding to unidentified vessel, please identify yourself, over”
Hervé: “Cooper Island, it’s us”
CIBC: “I did not copy that, please repeat”
Hervé: “Cooper Island, no problem, you know, us”
CIBC: “I, ah, see.  Ah, what, ah, can we do for you”
Hervé: “We would like to book dinner reservations, for 6: 30, us, party of four”
CIBC: “Copy that, 6:30, party of four.  Could you reconfirm the name”
Hervé: “us, and we want to be seated right next to them, party of six”

This is what constitutes mental stimulation in The Islands.

Dudes Photo Album

Limin’ Time on Mama Cocha, as photographed from the top of the mast by a very terrified boat owner.