Friday, November 23rd to Sunday, November 25th

On Friday morning, we bid farewell to our Caribbean 1500 friends and our attractive anchorage in Francis Bay.  Since the BVI Customs and Immigration office charges higher fees and operates on restricted hours during the weekend, we are bound for Soper’s Hole at West End to clear in before the office closes at 4:30 PM on Friday afternoon.   With temperatures in the upper 80s under sunny skies and light wind, it takes all the courage I can muster to slip out of my shorts and into a pair of long pants and a polo shirt for my dinghy trip to the Customs office.  This is an experiment to determine whether government officials respond more favorably to visitors that are appropriately attired versus those that wear the standard cruisers uniform of shorts and t shirts.

I enter the office and stand at the counter for two minutes before being acknowledged by the woman seated in front of me. Clearly, my Sunday outfit is not having a visible impact in the Customs office this afternoon.  I make the mistake of completing a form with a red pen, the sole writing instrument in my briefcase.  “Sir, never, ever use anyting but a blue or black pen when completing de form.”  I resist the urge to point to my long pants as evidence of my efforts to please and focus instead on complying with their wishes.  By now, I know enough to walk outside to the adjacent building, pay our $10 clearance fee to the Finance Department, then return with the paid receipt.  With the stamping of our paperwork, we are officially cleared in.  This bureaucratic process is a small price to pay for the freedom to roam this gorgeous archipelago.

We reward ourselves with a vegetable roti lunch at Pussers on the wharf, followed by a brief stop at the local grocery store for provisions.  By 3 PM, we are under sail again, this time to Peter’s Island, just five miles to the southeast.  Although the wind is light, Cutter Loose is moving at 4 knots on a comfortable close reach to Little Harbor on the western edge of the island.  Water depths inside the harbor are 60 feet and there are no moorings here.  The absence of moorings eliminates 99% of bareboat charterers.  But there are already three boats anchored in this small cove when we arrive.  They are 60 foot luxury charter cats with all the toys on deck and professional captains and crew aboard.  Each cat is anchored stern-to the shore with both a bow anchor and a long stern line extended to shore and fastened to rocks or small trees on the beach.  These boats will not ride to wind or current.  They will remain stationary. 

We find an isolated 35 foot shelf in the southeastern corner of the harbor where we can swing on our bow anchor without coming near the other boats.  This will do quite fine for the night, despite the fact that we are on short scope.  From this vantage point, we enjoy an outstanding view of the sun setting over St. John.  After midnight, however, it is a mad scramble aboard Cutter Loose to close all of the ports and hatches during an impromptu rain shower.

[caption id="attachment_3947" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Room with a view at Marina Cay"][/caption]

After a leisurely Saturday morning at anchor in Little Harbor, we reach the decision to travel 10 miles further east to Marina Cay, a tiny islet completely surrounded by a coral reef.  Cutter Loose is anchored just outside the mooring field between Marina Cay and the lee of Scrub Island.  We take advantage of the facilities ashore to sip a concoction known locally as "reef juice" between loads of laundry.  This libation is the perfect antidote to the task of washing our dirty clothes.  By mid-afternoon, the charter boats begin their daily migration to the mooring field at Marina Cay.  With all of these hungry charterers, the beachfront restaurant will be filled tonight.   Free wi-fi in the harbor is simply icing on the cake.  In fact, we enjoy these surroundings so much that we decide to remain here another night. 

On Sunday morning, we catch up on correspondence aboard Cutter Loose as the charterers abandon their moorings and sail on to their next destination. Aragorn, a local artist and organic farmer, pays a visit in his skiff to offer fresh bread, fruits and vegetables.  By noon, the mooring field is nearly empty, awaiting the next wave of charterers later in the afternoon.  We snorkel the reef around Marina Cay, then return to the boat for showers, relaxation time in the cockpit and dinner.  After a busy summer at home and the demands of a 9 day offshore passage, we are just beginning to become re-accustomed to this laid-back lifestyle. 



From our anchorage, we are afforded an excellent view of aircraft departing nearby Beef Island airport.  Taking off into to the easterly winds, these silver birds ascend quickly, execute a sweeping left hand turn around the island of Tortola and head west towards San Juan.  For most passengers, this final glimpse of the green mountains and turquoise water of the BVIs is the end of their vacation.  For us, it is just the beginning.

Wednesday, November 21st and Thursday, November 22nd

[caption id="attachment_3949" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Mongoose Junction"][/caption]

On Wednesday morning, we retrace our steps from Caneel Bay to Cruz Bay, but this time by dinghy.  At 9:30 AM, there is plenty of space at the public dinghy dock near the NPS Visitor Center.  Our mission is to explore the streets and shops of Cruz Bay, including Mongoose Junction, a multi-story retail/restaurant complex near the waterfront.  Workers are busy stringing garland to the bannisters while Christmas music performed to a reggae beat reverberates in the background.  The streets in town are narrow, hilly and filled with traffic.  Tour guides are busy organizing groups of morning hikers to sample the trails in the National Park. 

A stop at Dolphin Market produces sufficient provisions to stock our galley for another week.  The selection of fresh fruits, vegetables, seasonings and wine at this market is surprisingly quite good.  The aisles are filled with holiday shoppers in search of last-minute ingredients for their Thanksgiving feast.  There is only one cashier today.  She inspects the carts of each shopper in the check-out aisle and invites those with only a handful of groceries to move ahead in line.  No problem.  We are thankful to have found this well-stocked little store and we are in no hurry to leave.

[caption id="attachment_3943" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Cutter Loose on her mooring in Francis Bay, St. John, USVI"][/caption]

Back aboard Cutter Loose, we leave our NPS mooring at Caneel Bay and travel east another five miles to  Francis Bay.  In doing so, we are staging for a Thanksgiving outing.  One of our fellow Caribbean 1500 sailors has made a group reservation for a traditional Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow at the Maho Bay Campground, a short dinghy ride from our NPS mooring.  This is an awe-inspiring setting.  Cutter Loose is tucked deep into Francis Bay, surrounded by steep green mountains atop a white sandy beach.  Schools of fish and sea turtles are clearly visible alongside the boat, as is the sandy bottom of the Bay some 30 feet under our keel.

Tonight, we are generously invited to a pasta dinner aboard Comocean owned by Toby and Joanne from Houston, TX.  We are joined by single hander Joe aboard Keep It Simple from Annapolis, MD, another Caribbean 1500 boat.  An hour before our designated arrival time, the skies open with yet another deluge of rain.  The downpour continues throughout the evening.  By the time we arrive at Comocean by dinghy, we are thoroughly soaked…an accepted aspect of the cruising lifestyle.  After dinner, our evening entertainment consists of a Mexican train domino competition in the cockpit of Comocean.

On Thanksgiving Day, we take advantage of strong AT&T cell phone coverage from nearby St. Thomas to catch up on e mail and to ring family with Happy Thanksgiving wishes.  There are many things for which we are thankful, not the least of which is a safe ocean passage and the opportunity to be exploring such an attractive cruising area aboard Cutter Loose.  Beyond the beauty, there are other perks associated with being in the U.S. Virgin Islands, including an NPR station at 107.3 on the FM radio, access to a strong digital public television signal from St. Thomas and US-style NOAA marine weather forecasts on the VHF radio in both English and Spanish.  With creature comforts such as these, it is no wonder that so many cruisers make the USVI their home for the winter. 

Thanksgiving Day is a time for relaxation aboard Cutter Loose.  After an afternoon swim and a shower, we gather together aboard the spacious cockpit of the catamaran, Escapade to socialize with a small group of our fellow Caribbean 1500 sailors.  At dusk, we all dinghy to a beach landing at the Maho Bay Campground, then climb the stairs to the rustic outdoor pavilion where Thanksgiving dinner is served cafeteria-style.  After dinner, we linger to chat with our cruising friends.  We agree to meet again on the 28^th at Trellis Bay, BVI to attend the popular full moon party in this community.   

It is 9 PM by the time we descend the stairs to the beach in total darkness.  Launching the dinghy from the beach requires a concerted push into waist-deep water, a well-timed hop into the dinghy and a dash to start the outboard motor once in deeper water to avoid being washed back onto the beach by the surf.  Thankfully, conditions are calm tonight.  Thanksgiving Day 2012 comes to an end as we clamber aboard Cutter Loose and secure the dinghy on the davits for the night.   While there is no substitute for being with family on Thanksgiving Day, it is comforting nonetheless to be in the company of new friends as we take time to contemplate and be thankful for our abundant blessings.

Tuesday, November 20th

The sunrise in Soper's Hole is spectacular this morning.  Our first task of the day is a short dinghy ride to the Customs and Immigration office to clear out of BVI before entering the U.S. Virgin Islands later today.  While this is a formality, the process is taken quite seriously by local officials.  We are about to cross an international border.  The Customs officer approves our paperwork and hands us an invoice in the amount of one U.S. dollar.  We leave the Customs office and walk next door to the Finance office where we cheerfully pay our indebtedness.  In return, we are given a receipt. We return to the Customs office with receipt in hand, which is sufficient to complete the clearing out process.

[caption id="attachment_3938" align="alignright" width="300" caption="The wharf at Soper's Hole, West End, Tortola"][/caption]

Back aboard Cutter Loose, we slip away from our mooring and sail west towards the USVI.  Our destination today is Cruz Bay on the island of St. John.  Still in the BVI, our course takes us past Great Thatch Island with its steep terrain and lush green vegetation.  The backdrop of these verdant volcanic islands is in sharp contrast to the colorless, low-lying islands of the Bahamas.

Once into the open waters of Pillsbury Sound, Cutter Loose is sailing nicely at 4 knots on a close reach towards Red Hook Bay on the island of St. Thomas.  Approaching Red Hook, we tack and lay a course directly to Cruz Bay on St. Johns.  The sailing today is quite relaxing…a reminder of our purpose here in the Caribbean.

Cruz Bay is a busy harbor.  Nonstop ferry boat traffic from St. Thomas and Tortola along with harbor tour boats and charter vessels account for most of the activity.  Unfortunately, there is limited space for private boats to anchor, and this space is occupied by vessels that have not moved from their location for a long period of time, as evidenced by the buildup of marine growth along their waterlines.  We decide to drop the hook outside of the ferry channel near the National Park Service Office.  From here, it is a short dinghy ride to the U.S. Customs office near the ferry dock.  The fee to clear USVI Customs is six U.S. dollars.  Interestingly, the 60 cent per foot fee is based not on the length of Cutter Loose, but rather on the length of our dinghy (10 feet) currently tied to the Customs dock. 

After clearing USVI Customs, we tie up at the dinghy dock near the National Park Office.  Over half of St. John is protected as a National Park.  As it turns out, the NPS encourages the use of its moorings that have been strategically placed throughout the park to prevent anchor damage to the coral reef.  With our National Park senior card, we are entitled to a generous 50% discount on the $15 overnight mooring fee.

As we leave the Visitor Center, an NPS employee reminds us that Cutter Loose is anchored in a restricted area.  We are admonished to move the boat as soon as possible.  This rebuke thwarts our plan to explore the town on foot and spend the night at anchor in the harbor.  Above all else, we are civilized, compliant cruisers.  If the National Park Service feels that we should leave, who are we to question authority?  After all, we are the beneficiaries of the NPS senior discount on mooring fees.  We have no grounds to complain.

The anchor is up in the restricted area at 5 PM under threatening skies.  In moderate rain showers, we depart Cruz Bay for Caneel Bay, just a few miles to the east.  At 6 PM in near darkness and a steady rain, we tie Cutter Loose to an NPS mooring and settle in for the night.

Wednesday, November 14th to Monday, November 19th

After a few days of adjustment to life ashore in Tortola, my land legs are back and I am functioning in a manner that is close to my norm.  Post-landfall activities are the perfect antidote to land sickness.  Caribbean 1500 activities keep us active and engaged with our fellow sailors.  During the day, we attend chart talks to learn more about navigation and cruising opportunities here in the Virgins and beyond.  In the evenings, there are beach barbeques and socials during which we compare passage notes with our colleagues.  Equipment failures at sea earn bragging rights.  The sole incident aboard Cutter Loose involved a refill container of hand soap under the galley sink that spilled its contents throughout the cabinet and onto the galley floor, creating an ice skating rink in the process.  This story generates little sympathy on the part of our fellow cruisers who have experienced more complicated challenges during their voyage.

The final Caribbean 1500 festivity is the Friday night awards ceremony on the beach at Nanny Cay.  Trophies are presented for first, second and third place finishers on corrected time in the monohull and catamaran divisions.  Each boat is handicapped based on its dimensions and sail area.  Engine hours are added to elapsed time, the effect of which is to reward crews that utilize their engines sparingly.  In addition to the performance trophies, there are a series of other awards to recognize achievement that reflects the spirit of the Caribbean 1500.  With an elapsed time of 9 days, 13 hours and 45 minutes, we are not amongst the top three finishers.  But the first mate of Cutter Loose receives special recognition for preparing freshly baked bran muffins during the voyage.  After the awards ceremony, we are treated to a buffet dinner at Pegleg’s, one of the restaurants at Nanny Cay Marina.

[caption id="attachment_3931" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="The first lady of Cutter Loose accepts her "best muffin at sea" award"][/caption]

 



Nanny Cay is a full service boatyard and marina.  Horizon Yacht Charters is based here, as are several smaller charter companies.  As hurricane season winds down, the charter season is just getting underway.  The yard and docks are humming with activity.  Each day, more and more of the ubiquitous 50+ foot catamarans in the charter fleet are moved from the yard to their slips, awaiting vacationers from the north.

[caption id="attachment_3930" align="alignleft" width="225" caption="What is that at the top of the mast?"][/caption]

Our days here at Nanny Cay Marina are consumed with boat tasks.  Every square inch of Cutter Loose, both above and below decks, must be cleaned and re-cleaned in order to remove the salt bath from the passage.  The deck is washed, the stainless is polished, the engine oil is changed, the fuel filters are replaced and the headsail is removed and taken to the local sail loft for repairs. A lift to the masthead in the bosun’s chair enables me to retrieve the spare halyard that broke away from the octahedral radar reflector during one of the many squalls that we encountered at sea. The cold weather clothing that we needed in Hampton is folded and stowed in a remote compartment for future reference.  Our reward at the end of each afternoon is a walk to the beach for a swim before showers and dinner.

[caption id="attachment_3929" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="The Captain's work is never done"][/caption]

On Saturday, most of the Caribbean 1500 boats and/or their owners depart Nanny Cay Marina.  Some of the owners are returning to the U.S. for the holidays or for work-related reasons.  Other participants are anxious to leave the dock to begin sampling the protected anchorages and snorkeling opportunities in the BVIs.  It is sad to see this party come to an end.  But parting ways is a part of cruising…a temporary separation, never a final goodbye.  We will almost certainly cross wakes with many of these folks here in the Virgin Islands and as we resume the cruising lifestyle.

[caption id="attachment_3940" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Sunset from Soper's Hole, West End, Tortola"][/caption]

After a final swim and a brief stop at the fuel dock on Monday afternoon, we sail the short distance west to Soper’s Hole on the West End of Tortola to spend the night on a mooring.  Moderate intermittent showers begin early in the evening and remain with us until morning.  This afternoon’s sail will position us to clear BVI customs in the morning.  Even though today’s distance is short, it feels good to complete our tasks and escape the confines of the marina.  Let the relaxation begin!

Tuesday, November 13th - Landfall in Tortola

In darkness, Cutter Loose crosses 18 degrees, 28 minutes north, the official finish line of the Caribbean 1500.  The time is 1:45 AM.  Street lights on the hills of Tortola are visible now.  From here, we creep along slowly, threading the needle through a group of small islands known as the Dogs.  There are no aids to navigation to guide our way, lighted or otherwise.  We rely on radar to keep us off of the rocks.  Once past the Dogs, the outline of the mountains against the night sky confirms that we have arrived in paradise.

Now in the deeper waters of Sir Francis Drake Channel, we navigate past Beef Island Airport and the lights of the capital city, Road Harbor.  Nanny Cay Marina is just a few more miles to the southwest.  The VHF comes alive with the voice of Mia, our Caribbean 1500 support hostess, welcoming Team Cutter Loose to Tortola and guiding us to our slip,  At 5:30AM, we raise our yellow Q flag and glasses of champagne, giving thanks for a safe passage and congratulating ourselves on the accomplishment of our objective.  The roosters join in the celebration with their early morning cacophony.  The morning work shift at Nanny Cay Marina has begun to arrive.  For them, the day has just begun.  For the crew of Cutter Loose, we barely muster the energy to collapse into our bunks, thankful that the boat is finally flat in the water and motionless.



By noon, we are up and about, exploring our new environs.  We are surrounded by steep green mountains, lush with vegetation.  But something is not quite right here in paradise.  I am having difficulty adapting to my new surroundings.  Alone on night watch at sea, my mission is clear.  Decisions come easy.  Here on land, I weave aimlessly along the docks, incapable of walking in a straight line. Everything seems complicated.  I am indecisive, lacking focus and purpose.  Somehow, I manage to complete the paperwork to clear Customs.  Afterwards, I am in a daze, my mental acuity impaired.  The psychological adjustment of landfall is taking its toll. 



Later in the evening at a beach barbeque, other Caribbean 1500 sailors confess similar post-landfall traumatic shock symptoms.  While this is reassuring, it does little to ease my disorientation.  Perhaps things will seem clearer tomorrow.

Monday, November 12th

At this stage of the voyage, we should be experiencing the prevailing easterly trade winds that provide a comfortable beam reach into Tortola.  But there are no trade winds today.  Instead, the wind is out of the south.  Cutter Loose is motoring into head winds, waves and swells...yet another bouncy ride to add to our experience.

At noon, we are 67 nautical miles due north of Tortola. Given our 5 knot boat speed under power, we will make landfall sometime on Tuesday morning.  In all likelihood, we will arrive at Nanny Cay Marina under the cover of darkness.

Sunday, November 11th

Wind from the NE at 30 knots make for another rolly day at sea.  Cutter Loose is double reefed and pounding through the waves and swell at 8 knots for most of the day. We are making rapid progress towards our destination now.  The price we pay for distance made good to our destination is extreme pitching and rolling.  Sleep deprivation is apparent in the faces of the crew and owners. Rest happens infrequently on an offshore voyage.  When it occurs, the quality of sleep is poor, inhibited by constant motion and the pounding of the waves against the hull.
Every square inch of Cutter Loose is permeated by salt, both above and below decks.  Small openings in the cockpit canvas act as passageways for seawater to enter our small window overlooking the ocean.  Salt then finds its way below on our clothing and shoes.  The heat and humidity of the subtropical air causes the crew to seek ventilation in the cockpit.  It is not possible to open the ports and hatches to achieve air flow below because the deck is constantly awash in seawater.  Consequently, the cabin is a steamy, sweaty place to be.

At noon, the remaining distance to Tortola is 231 miles.  Everyone is energized by the fact that these are the final few days of the voyage.  Our favorite topic of conversation involves speculation on the hour of our arrival in Tortola.  Thus far, there are no injuries or illnesses to report aboard Cutter Loose and we intend to keep it that way for the next few days.  Unfortunately, our wind speed and direction instrument decided to quit working today.  Until we can fully diagnose the problem in Tortola, we will be forced to navigate and adjust our sails without this important device.

Saturday, November 10th

During the early hours of the morning, the wind shifts to the NNE at 18 knots.  Cutter Loose is scampering along to the barn on a beam reach at 7 knots.  Clear skies give way to light showers at 1 AM.  It is a quiet night.  There are no vessels to track on the radar screen. The reward of the night watch is witnessing first light and a brilliant sunrise.

Throughout the day, wind speed increases gradually to 30 knots.  The wind, waves and swell combine to create a rough ride aboard Cutter Loose.  At noon, we are 394 miles from our destination.

Bouncy conditions continue through the evening. Standing behind the wheel, it is as if we are in an enclosed surfboard.  Foam from the crests of the waves surround the stern as Cutter Loose rises on the crests and descends into the troughs in acrobatic style.  Boat speed has now reached 8 knots under a triple reefed main and a double reefed genoa.  The autopilot is doing a great job of keeping us on course.  In these circumstances, one must hang on for the ride and have confidence in one's vessel.  But for those off watch, sleep is difficult given the constant noise and extreme motion.  In fact, every task in the cabin is made difficult by the rolly conditions.

Friday, November 9th

At 1 AM, the distance to Tortola as the crow flies is 600 miles.  The wind this morning is from the NNW at 20 knots which pushes Cutter Loose along on a broad reach at a comfortable speed of 5 knots.  By 10:30 AM, however, wind speed has dropped to 10 knots.  This is our calmest day at sea since exiting the Gulf Stream.  Motorsailing now, we are tracking directly to our destination waypoint near a small group of islands known as the Dogs, just north of Tortola.

For the second time in as many days, Dolphin Boy Pete manages to snag yet another mahi mahi. The smaller cuts of the fish are diced and marinated in citrus and spices for our ceviche appetizer.  The catch from yesterday and today are combined into a delicious broiled mahi dinner served with steamed sugar snap peas and a salad.
In the coziness of the cockpit enclosure, the night watch is treated to a clear evening with an abundance of stars and constellations for agreeable company.

Thursday, November 8th

Brisk southwesterly winds place Cutter Loose on a spirited, rhumb line beam reach to our destination in Tortola. Despite the deep reefs in the mainsail and genoa, this is a bouncy ride with an abundance of sea water spraying the foredeck and dodger.  Cutter Loose is up to the task as she plows powerfully through the swells.

At 3 PM, the announcement "fish on" can be heard throughout the boat.  Pete, our in-house angler (aka Dolphin Boy), rises enthusiastically to the task.  Our catch today is a brilliant yellow-green mahi-mahi.  Unlike yesterday, this fish is on the quarterdeck instantly, put to rest by a generous spray of Old Grand Dad into the gills. The fillets are cleaned and placed in the fridge for future reference.

Winds clock to the west, then northwest.  But the swell today is from the west which creates confused seas and a rocky ride.  Cutter Loose has the ocean to herself today.  Not a single vessel appears on the radar screen all day.

Today we celebrate  "over the hump", the midpoint of our passage to Tortola.  As an exception to our dry boat policy and to reward our collective accomplishment, each crew member is allotted one alcoholic beverage of their choice with dinner.

Wednesday, November 7th

At daybreak and still hove to, we inspect Cutter Loose for damage.  Last night's storm has shredded the protective UV panel on the foot and leach of the furling genoa.  With tattered sections of sailcloth streaming from the edges of the headsail, Cutter Loose gives the appearance of a rag doll.  In addition, the Plastimo aluminum octahedral radar reflector has been reduced to something resembling a crushed soda can.  These are minor concerns. We are pleased that there is no serious damage to the boat.
With the storm behind us now, we resume our journey southward in warm winds out of the southwest.  At noon, we are 457 miles into the ocean passage to Tortola. Our spirits are lifted when a large wahoo takes the bait.  But this toothy, gruesome-looking Houdini manages to escape during the critical process of being landed on the quarterdeck.

The crew is now fully settled into the routine of moving the boat 24/7, getting by on a few hours of sleep between watches.  Managing to remain upright at a constant 20 degree heel while the boat plows through the residual 20 foot swells from the storm is quite the challenge.  Even small tasks below in the cabin require considerable balance and forethought.  The safest place to be is in the cockpit, tethered to the boat by our harnesses.

Tuesday, November 6th

With favorable winds out of the ENE, today is a day to make distance towards our destination.  We are also trying to make as much distance as possible to the south and east in order to avoid the deepening low pressure area that is forming along the Florida - Georgia border.  This low is expected to develop into a strong nor'easter later today.

By noon, we are 361 miles into our voyage.  The wind has shifted out of the south.  We tack Cutter Loose to the east, placing the southerly winds on our beam for a comfortable reach.  The sun is shining.  The wind is brisk at 18 knots and it is a lovely day for an ocean sail.  But high clouds moving in from the west portend a change in the weather.  We remain optimistic that our rapid pace to the east will place us well beyond the influence of the coastal storm.

At dusk, the southerly winds increase to 25 knots.  We prepare Cutter Loose for darkness by reducing sail area.  We are cautiously flying about one third of our mainsail and one half of the headsail.  Winds continue to build during the evening, but Cutter Loose feels comfortable with the sail plan. A unidentified reddish-orange light appears on the eastern horizon.  According to radar and AIS, there are no ships within 20 miles of our location.  As it turns out, the mysterious light is the moon, making its appearance amidst the storm clouds.


At midnight, however, we are hit by multiple squall lines, each one more powerful than the former.  We are experiencing horizontal rain and steep waves.  A 38 knot wind gust causes Cutter Loose to round up into the wind. In the process of bringing her back on course, we execute an untimely accidental jibe.  The radar shows that we are surrounded by squalls.  Visibility is minimal.  We decide to heave to in these miserable conditions to rest and wait out the squalls.  But the storms just keep coming. We are safe and there is no obvious damage to the boat.  We decide to remain hove to until daybreak to wait out the squally conditions.

Sunday, November 4th

In the wee small hours of Sunday morning, Cutter Loose is motor sailing south along the Virginia - North Carolina coast in a light northwesterly breeze.  Our mission today is to cross the Gulf Stream at its narrowest point in order to minimize the amount of time spent transiting this river of current within the ocean.  Ordinarily, we would be concerned about crossing the Stream in wind with a northerly component.  But the Stream here flows from southwest to northeast.  A light northwest wind does not pose a threat to our crossing today.

We enter the western edge of the Stream at 0730 near Cape Hatteras.  There is no mistaking the fact that we have arrived at the front door of the Gulf Stream. The wall of cumulus clouds hovering over the western edge of the Stream forms a curtain through which we pass into this forbidding territory.  Heat and humidity are telltale signs that we are in the Stream.  The width of the Stream is about 70 miles at this  juncture.  The current is setting Cutter Loose to the east at 2 knots.  It is only a matter of time before we are hit by one of the many squalls that we will encounter during this crossing.  Squalls create high winds, heavy rain and confused seas, followed by periods of calm before the passage of the next squall line. The ride becomes quite bouncy, adding time and discomfort to our journey.  Bursts of lightning and rumbles of thunder help us to predict the location of the next squall line.   We are thankful to exit the Gulf Stream at 11 PM at a point due east of Cape Lookout.

Saturday, November 3rd - Caribbean 1500 Departure

[caption id="attachment_3874" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="The Fleet, Day 1"][/caption]

It has been nine days since we arrived in Hampton.  During this period we have endured Hurricane Sandy, prepared Cutter Loose for departure and interacted with other Caribbean 1500 participants through seminars and social gatherings.  All of our preparatory work is nearly complete.

Our crew of two has now joined us aboard Cutter Loose.  Ed  lives in the Chicago area.  He has completed eight prior Caribbean 1500 voyages and 27 Chicago to Mackinaw races.  Pete lives in nearby Virginia Beach. He has participated in five prior Caribbean 1500 voyages, three of which have been in the company of Ed.  Ed and Pete are quite congenial and helpful.  We are a happy boat.

At the 11 AM skipper's briefing, we learn about an approaching weather feature that may affect our passage to Tortola.  A moderate low pressure center is expected to move east along the Georgia/Florida border on Tuesday.  This storm has the potential to become a strong nor'easter as it builds strength and moves north  along the coast.  Rally organizers encourage all boats to depart Hampton today with the goal of crossing the Gulf Stream as soon as possible before this storm materializes.  Rally organizers abandon the idea of a racing start off of Fort Monroe.  Instead, the rally will begin with a staggered start.  Each boat decides for itself when to leave.  Some boats are not quite ready to leave today.  Their options will become more limited with each passing day.

Cutter Loose is officially underway from her slip at Hampton Public Piers at 2:30 PM on Saturday.  At 4:15 PM, we pass over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel and head out to sea.  With light winds from the north, the sea state is quite calm.  Soon, Cape Henry passes on our starboard beam as we set  a course just east of Cape Hatteras where we will enter the Gulf Stream at its narrowest point.

It is a quiet night on the ocean.  The barometer is rising. Traffic is minimal and the seas are calm.  At sunset, we can see six Caribbean 1500 boats within a few miles of our position.  After dinner in the cockpit, we settle into the watch system.  It feels good to be underway, despite the fact that the potential development of a nor'easter creates a sense of uneasiness and our departure felt somewhat rushed.  The reality of a November passage in the North Atlantic includes a threat of tropical weather systems and the pattern of cold fronts exiting the east coast every few days.  It is preferable to leave earlier than expected rather than waiting day after day for improved conditions.

Friday, November 2nd

On our final full day of seminars, we learn about managing emergencies at sea, including a demonstration involving the deployment of a six-person life raft in the outdoor pool of the Crowne Plaza Hotel.  We also learn about customs procedures for our departure from Hampton and our arrival in Tortola.

Another seminar involves a presentation on the communication protocol using single sideband (SSB) radio.  Every day at 7 AM and again at 7 PM, each Caribbean 1500 boat will tune to a designated SSB frequency to report location and any concerns or emergencies. At 1 PM daily, there will be a chat on the SSB radio for women only. In addition, we will be receiving daily weather forecasts from the World Cruising Club via e mail using the SSB radio.  We have also contracted privately with our own weather router, Chris Parker, to provide daily weather updates via SSB e mail. 

During a weather briefing, we learn that a cold front is expected to move offshore on Tuesday.  Instead of a Sunday noon start, the World Cruising Club is now recommending a rolling start on Saturday afternoon. 11/3.  A Saturday departure will permit us to cross the Gulf Stream in relatively calm conditions before  passage of the front on Tuesday. This early departure will allow for an additional margin of safety in crossing the Stream in advance of an approaching cold front. Shortly after this announcement, we applied our Scopalamine patches behind our ear as a preventive measure to guard against seasickness. 

Our evening social gathering tonight involves appetizers at the Hampton Yacht Club.  Mia, our Scandinavian hostess from the World Cruising Club is the manager of this event.  Everybody is chatting about the suggested early departure on Saturday. We will join most of the other boats in leaving Hampton sometime on Saturday afternoon.

[caption id="attachment_3865" align="aligncenter" width="640" caption="An early morning view of Hampton University campus from Cutter Loose"][/caption]

Thursday, November 1st

Today is a day to attack what remains of the pre-departure checklist aboard Cutter Loose.  The chainplates are rebedded, jerry jugs containing the emergency fuel supply are secured and the lazarette locker is organized to withstand the inevitable heeling and motion at sea.  Yet another excursion to West Marine in the shuttle van produces the required supplies to accomplish these tasks.

The social gathering for the evening is a group dinner at Marker 20, a local eatery on Queen Street just two blocks from the marina.  Entertainment is provided by the Barefoot Davis Band featuring lead singer Davis Murray.  I first met Davis in the 1995 Caribbean 1500.  He has participated in every Caribbean 1500 event since its inception in 1990.

While observing the festivities at Marker 20, I am in awe of the volume and intensity of female participation in the Caribbean 1500.  One might believe instinctively that the Caribbean 1500 is an event designed for male skippers and their sailing cronies while the spouses and significant others fly to Tortola to meet the arriving boats.  But nothing could be further from the truth.  The Caribbean 1500 women are actively involved in planning and executing this voyage.  They are active participants in the seminars and work hard to prepare the boat for departure.   Preparing for the Caribbean 1500 is a 6 month process that is packed with details and responsibility.  Without the participation of the women of the Caribbean 1500, many of these boats would never leave the dock.  I am profoundly grateful to Pat for her preparatory work and her willingness to participate in this voyage.

Wednesday, October 31st

[caption id="attachment_3853" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Anchors lashed securely to bow rollers"][/caption]

For the first time in four days, it is not raining.  The sun creates energy on the docks as the Caribbean 1500 sailors transition from hurricane preparation to voyage preparation.  Everybody is outdoors working on boat chores that were deferred during Sandy.   Aboard Cutter Loose, we manage to complete several projects on our pre-departure checklist, including re-commissioning the water maker, test-running the generator, lashing the anchors to the bow rollers and securing the dinghy on the stern arch. 

One of today’s seminars focused on ocean fishing.  We learn that our preferred prey includes wahoo, yellowtail tuna and mahi-mahi.  A variety of lures is circulated around the conference room for closer inspection. The preferred technique for dispatching our prey once onboard involves spraying rum in the gills of the feisty, flopping fish.  Once immobilized, the edible parts of the fish must be separated from the unneeded parts, the results of which create a bloody mess on the deck.  One of our crew members is an avid salt water fisherman, so we look forward to supplementing our freezer contents with the catch of the day.

There is a growing sense of urgency aboard Cutter Loose.  Four days from now, we will set sail to Tortola. Friday’s schedule is filled with seminars and the arrival of our crew.  Saturday will be devoted to final provisioning and rehearsing safety procedures.  On Sunday, we will leave the dock shortly after breakfast.  That leaves Thursday as our final day to complete projects and wrap up loose ends.  Preparing to leave the dock on an extended voyage is always filled with a certain amount of anxiety, but especially so when the first leg of the journey involves a 1500 mile ocean passage.

At tonight’s Halloween social gathering, we are treated to yet another visit from that salty vegetarian, Popeye.  He seems to make an appearance nearly every year at this time.  It is as if this strange character is stalking Cutter Loose.