I was feeling quite smug about the fact that hurricane season was pretty well over and my boat, parked in St. Vincent, had escaped without seeing so much as a raindrop.  Sure, Hurricane Jose threatened to pass through St. Vincent, but that was short-lived as it turned north and promptly died.

We booked our trip for mid-November because we felt there would be nothing to worry about once October had passed.  Hurricane Season is officially June through November, but our experience has shown that you are reasonably safe in November.  Sure enough, there was nothing on the weather satellite photos that indicated a potential problem east of the Windwards.

I had been checking the NOAA Website and observed an area of low pressure developing in the central Caribbean for about a week.  It started off as a lot of cloud cover that just kept getting bigger and bigger.  It soon covered most of the western Caribbean and the Yucatan Peninsula.  I figured it could develop into something, but that would be something the Texans would have to deal with.  Since we were going to be a zillion miles the other way, I chuckled.  Little did I know.

Saturday, November 13, 1999

It was a typical travel day to St. Vincent.  Limo to the airport, Air Canada 966 to Barbados, drinks at Frankie’s (across from the airport in Barbados) before connecting with our LIAT flight to St. Vincent.  Unbeknown to us, NOAA had declared that huge area of low pressure in the western Caribbean Tropical Depression #16 (Advisory 1), centered near the Cayman Islands, just about the same time our first round of beverages arrived on the patio at Frankie’s. 

Sunday, November 14, 1999

Next morning, we awoke and began boat checkout procedures.  Our plans called for a very short sail to Bequia in order to clear out of Customs, in preparation for passage to St. Lucia next day.  Just before leaving, Seth at Barefoot Yacht Charters informed me of the Tropical Depression.  I was a little surprised that they forecasted it to move northeast, but I was assured it would pass well north of our intended destinations.  Nothing to worry about.

We enjoyed a lazy day on Bequia.  Customs went without a hitch.  A few beers and a roti at The Green Boley paved the way for a great nap on the deck of The Usual Suspects.  At about the same time, things were beginning to deteriorate in the western Caribbean, as Tropical Depression #16 was reclassified as Tropical Storm Lenny (Advisory 5).  Located about 175 miles southwest of Jamaica, wind speeds were approaching 55 knots.  The forecast called for a due east path, and I, asleep on deck, knew nothing of it.

The beach at Port Elizabeth, Bequia, exactly 3 days before the storm.

For dinner, we enjoyed a great pizza at Mac’s, our favorite Bequia eating establishment.  The evening was capped off with plenty of beverages at the Frangipani, where the stories flowed with the usual ease.  During this epic event, the western Caribbean situation was really deteriorating fast.  Lenny had rapidly intensified and now held Category 1 hurricane status according to the Saffir-Simpson Scale (Advisory 6A), with wind speeds of 70 knots, just 140 miles south of Jamaica.  It was heading east, and we were stationary at the bar bullshitting.

Monday, November 15, 1999

We were up at 6:00 AM and off the hook fifteen minutes later.  We had a 51 mile passage ahead of us, and the winds were very light out of the south, as they had been for the past week.  We would have to motorsail.  I wanted to be sure we arrived in daylight, as anchoring at The Pitons would be a special challenge for someone unfamiliar with the area, as we were.

The situation in the western Caribbean continued to deteriorate.  An hour before dawn, the NOAA reclassified Lenny as a Category 2 hurricane (Advisory 8) with winds approaching 85 knots.  It was now picking up speed and tracking east-southeast.  It was far away, but definitely heading in our direction.  The northeast track that forecasters were predicting never materialized.  Since we had no cause for concern, we did not think to check a weather forecast, so we knew nothing of this at the time.

The motorsail proceeded without incident.  Sunshine was enjoyed.  Beers were consumed.  New stories were field-tested.  We were off the northernmost point of St. Vincent before noon and arrived at the Pitons by 3:30 PM.  I was disappointed with the light southern winds, as I had hoped for a screaming reach to St. Lucia, instead of the continuous throb of the diesel pounding away.

Meanwhile, Lenny was 930 miles away heading due east at latitude 14.8N (Advisory 9).  We were heading due north, with an eventual destination of Le Marin, Martinique, located at 14.28N.   All things remaining constant, these tracks would have the eye of the hurricane pass within 31 miles of us in three days.  We were on a collision course with a dangerous hurricane and didn’t know it.

For reasons we could not figure out, it appeared too rough to anchor at The Pitons.  We observed several anchored boats rolling wildly, and concluded that we should continue on to Marigot Bay, which we knew to be very well protected.  We arrived there just after 5:00 PM.   Customs was closed so we wandered next door to Chateau Mygo for Happy Hour.  I wondered if some planning went into the close proximity of these two structures.

Happy Hour was a huge success.  By moving the hands of the wall clock back, Tiny was able to extend Happy Hour a full 45 minutes before his plot was discovered.  While we met new friends, told many lies, consumed numerous beverages, and had a great dinner, Lenny continued to defy forecasters as it persisted in moving rapidly east, not northeast (Advisory 10).  Not a single person that evening mentioned a thing about this hurricane.  We did not think to check.

Tuesday, November 16, 1999

While we slept soundly, Lenny maintained its easterly course at latitude 15.2N (Advisory 12).  It was now south of the Dominican Republic, 690 miles away and closing fast.

We enjoyed our morning coffee and decided to check out JJ’s, a restaurant and bar at the far end of the harbor.  We were successful in helping ourselves to some free rum punch that was prepared for tour groups that arrived in several buses.  JJ’s staff were sporting the finest Caribbean “parrot” shirts I have seen to date, so I decided to try to buy the shirt off somebody’s back.  Fortunately, I did not have to, as JJ’s Boutique next door sold that very same shirt.

We departed Marigot Bay and took a quick swing through Castries Harbor, where we buzzed three of the largest cruise ships I have ever seen.  We arrived at Rodney Bay just after noon, and arranged for a slip at the marina.

The water in Rodney Bay is far from clean, and the Bay is somewhat protected from the wind, resulting in a stinking hot afternoon.  This problem was quickly brought under control at the nearby Three Amigos restaurant, where several pitchers of ice-cold Margaritas were delivered to our table.  It’s ironic that we travel several thousand miles and spend tons of cash to specifically enjoy the Caribbean, and we end up going Mexican!  Just to make sure that our body temperatures did not exceed manufacturer specifications, a long dip in their pool followed by a snooze capped the afternoon.

At about the same time my “sheep count” hit 1000, the NOAA upgraded Lenny to Category 3 (Advisory 14) because this nasty thing had the audacity to sport winds of 100 knots.  It was 450 miles away from my unconscious little world, 160 miles southeast of the Dominican Republic, but at least it demonstrated enough courtesy to begin turning slightly north.  It was now on a collision course with the Virgin Islands instead of my next cruising destination.  Had I known this, I might have been relieved, except that I never knew there was a potential problem to begin with.

We enjoyed an excellent dinner at Spinnakers, a cozy little beach restaurant right on Reduit Beach.  After dinner, I stepped off the front porch and down to the water for a quick look at the beach.  It was ironic, because 12 hours later that porch would be damaged, the sand gone, and that same walk would have resulted in a 6-foot plunge to a badly eroded beach.  We retired back to the boat, poured a few rummers, and crashed, oblivious to the fury that was about to be unleashed in a few short hours.

Reduit Beach, the day before the Lenny arrived.

Meanwhile, Gord was back in Toronto following weather reports, preparing to join us in Martinique in 3 days.  He later wrote:

“In the days leading up to my departure, The Weather Network sporadically began to talk of a storm in the Caribbean that they kept saying would track north and out of harms way, but every graphic they showed, had the track of the storm with a predominant easterly component. No one seemed to ever explain this!“

“My sense at the time was that Lenny was a storm that really no one seemed to pay a lot of attention to, a storm that no one seemed to have a real handle on.”