There is a tiny island in the Caribbean named Anegada. Until
a few years back, it was virtually impossible for any but the most seasoned of
sailors to get a boat to it. It is literally in inches of water and surrounded
by an expansive reef.
Now there is a version of a channel…a couple of red
markers giving you a modicum of guidance on how to bring in your boat and not
tear it to tatters. Still, you must attempt entry to Anegada only in the
sharpest and highest of sunlight. It is the only way to see the variant colors
of the water…turquoise or white marking sand underneath; darker shades heralding coral head danger. I
have now sailed the Virgin Islands four times, never having conjured the courage
to venture off to Anegada, some 20 miles distant.
While crew enjoyed early morning coffee in the cockpit as
the sun awoke over North Sound in Virgin Gorda, I was contemplative, pondering
the many factors that I would have to monitor to make for a safe passage to
Anegada. Knowing light was going to be one of those factors, I anxiously
cajoled the crew to complete their predeparture preparations.
The trip was uneventful and mellowing, the Virgin Islands disappearing off our stern. We
sailed under a sky blue and cloudless, the light wind in our
sails both gratifying in their calm but at
the same time, exasperating, given my present need for speed. We turned the bend
around our final GPS waypoint and began to snake through the minimal and unhelpful
buoys marking an illusory path into safe
waters near Anegada . Our boat drew 7 feet, meaning our keel would hit bottom
if the ocean gave us less. We could see
only sporadic light patches of water. The depth meter alarm was screaming at
me. We gingerly made our way into a pack of boats, mostly catamarans. This was not at all comforting, as catamarans draw 2 feet at best.
As we approached a mooring ball, the depth meter read 0.2…2 inches of water
separating the bottom of my keel from the top of something hard. I advised the
crew to brace for impact. Before that could happen, Joe adeptly snagged the
mooring pendant and tied us on to it. “Boat Secure”, he yelled , as is
protocol. We all stand frozen and silent, not believing that we have actually,
and finally, made it to Anegada.
As you will see in posts to come, we were glad we did.
Julianne December 4th,
2016
