Sailing S/V Nara

I turned the ignition key and started Nara’s Volvo D2-55 engine for the first time seven years ago this month. Since then, dozens, if not hundreds of times. She has been such a huge part of our lives - living on her for many months each year, we have covered 7500 miles and visited 12 countries together.

During these seven years it has sometimes been hard to remember that she is a floating mass of fiberglass, machines, wires, ropes, and other inanimate things. There have been many times when it seems as though Nara is communicating with us. She has saved us from impending danger, sometimes just moments away, through revelations that can’t be described by normal logic. Expressing her joy when reaching through open seas - petulance when tied up or neglected. We have vivid imaginations I guess. Just like most sailing cruisers we know!

Last week, I needed to turn the key one final time. One last journey of just 25 miles from Tortola to Saint Thomas where we would meet up with Stadiongracht, a cargo ship who would be delivering her to her new owners 1,800 miles away. I turned the key and instead of the perky whirl of the start motor, followed by the comforting hum of the engine and splashing of engine cooling water - we heard a faint whine, watched the instrument needles jump, pause, quiver, and die. Dead silence. A new Start battery with a full charge and 850 cold cranking amps not up to the task. Really? … Did I mention her petulant side?

We eventually overpowered Nara’s resistance with an insurmountable supply of boosted amperage and made it to our rendezvous. Underway, she fought back for the first 15 minutes or so before realizing the inevitable and settling into a smooth and efficient journey. At least that’s how it seemed to us - and our vivid imaginations I guess.

Nara is now loaded in a cradle on the deck of Stadiongracht, welded securely to the ship and on her way. We toasted her farewell in Saint Thomas with excellent French Champagne and Dominos pizza. In true island fashion they delivered the wrong pizza. We have learned to expect that level of service in the Caribbean.

We have mixed emotions. First mate shed some tears. Captain did as well – although for a different reason. It’s time to move on to a new adventure. We have learned that we enjoy spending our time together - even in confined spaces. We enjoy approaching complex new problems as a team. Whatever the next adventure is - it should be pretty cool.

May 8, 2024. Nara is tied up in a slip on the other side of this cruise ship. We were below deck, directly beneath a 65-foot tall aluminum mast acting as a lightning rod, questioning some of our life choices. The sizzling sound of this strike was chilling.

This season is one to remember.

Still bouncing around the Virgin Islands - St Thomas and St John before returning to the British Virgin Islands.

We left the BVI in January 2023 to explore the Eastern Caribbean and over the past 16 months have sailed 1500+ miles. This season’s return trip, sailing north from Grenada, was our best yet with the wind consistently behind or on the beam. We flew and Nara sailed exceptionally well! And we spent very little money on fuel.

It is meaningful to come full circle and return to Nanny Cay, a special place for us since we spent a lot of time here during Covid.

In St Thomas for a few weeks to work on boat projects. It’s a bonus to cross paths with our good friends from Koa and Busco Viento!

So happy Tyler was able to visit us in Saint Croix. We explored, toured, hiked, snorkeled and sailed. Lots to enjoy in the lesser known US Virgin Island.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day from Nara’s crew at one of the best parades in the Caribbean! ☘️

After 4+ years in the Caribbean, we finally made it back to English Harbour, Antigua. It is where we first arrived after 13 days at sea, sailing from the Chesapeake Bay with the Salty Dawg rally in 2019. It was fun to re-visit Nelson’s Dockyard, Falmouth Harbour, and of course, to stock up on our favorite rum.

From Antigua we sailed 52 miles to Saint Kitts, spent the night, and then continued on to Saint Croix. 135 miles, it was our first overnight passage of the season. Our biggest challenge was arriving too early because Christiansted Harbor is tricky in the dark. The wind was better than we had planned and we found that sailing a broad reach with moderate following seas, it was impossible to slow Nara down to time our arrival! The more canvas we furled, the faster she would go.😀

On one hand, it was exhilarating to carry speed with the boat upright and flying downwind. On the other hand, it was concerning that our only options were:
1. Alter our course to delay our arrival - requiring us to jibe twice in the darkness.
2. Pass by our destination in the morning, tack around and beat into a pretty stiff wind and heavy sea which was expected at arrival.
3. Upon reaching our destination in the dark, start the engine, furl the sails, and manually steer the boat in circles for two hours in 9 foot waves and 25 mph winds (22 knots). This is hard on the rudder, anything not stowed below properly, and the captain.

In the end we arrived two hours early and invoked option 3. Apologies to Neptune for the foul language outbursts coming from the helm.

We are now happy to be back in USVI and exploring a new island.

After leaving Saint Lucia we accelerated our sailing north in order to catch up with friends… sv Koa in Portsmouth, Dominica, and sv Glittra in Pointe a Pitre, Guadeloupe. We enjoyed island exploring 🚗, waterfall hikes⛰️, river tours 🛶, sundowners🍹, dinners 🍽️, and late nights😴 in both locations.
What a fun 10 days! 😀

We have stayed in Saint Lucia longer than expected due to boat projects and weather - but our time here has been very productive. We had our Genoa sail re-stitched, forward cabin AC unit repaired, tricolor light (top of mast) electrical issue fixed, anchor refurbished, and best of all, our teak deck has been sanded, cleaned, brightened, deck plugs replaced, and caulked. Nara is looking good! 😍

An update to our story from last night. I dove under our boat to check for damage that may have occurred when the runaway boat encircled us with his anchor chain deployed. As good fortune would have it, Brent, Suzy, Kim, and I recently tested our 12 V underwater diving air pump. I used it again today. The second time in 7 years!

I found evidence that the chain did, in fact, scrape our keel and rudder. The only damage is superficial and left chain marks on the bottom paint. I almost didn’t even see them at first glance. The damage could have been much worse had we not secured the anchor just 3-5 seconds sooner. He would have snagged our anchor / chain, and spun us violently around, and then likely dragged us into the entangled mess with the others.

We also learned that he may have been doing this intentionally. We were the sixth boat that he “attacked”. He was cruising through the Anchorage with his anchor about 15 feet below the surface attempting to snag as many chains as he could. His is a heavy and powerful steel or aluminum boat capable of doing a lot of damage to those of us in glass boats. The Coast Guard officers had to pry his hands off of the wheel once they got everything shut down. He was in some sort of nonresponsive zombie like state. 

We are thankful that we chose a Hallberg Rassy as our first boat. It is designed to withstand punishment - whether caused by our inexperience, Mother Nature, or Kamikaze zombie captains.

Our harrowing night on the boat… we are blessed and safe now.

It is now 3 AM on Tuesday, January 30, 2024. Yesterday started out with an early coffee and a sunrise sail from Bequia to Rodney Bay St. Lucia. 70 miles on a beam reach with pleasant conditions. Our friends on SV Island Time, Chris, Kathy, and their hounds left about an hour after us, and followed us into the Anchorage at Rodney Bay. They anchored next to us, and we enjoyed smiles, and thumbs up for our successful day.

Exhausted from our long day, we had a meal and went to bed. At 1 AM I was awakened by shouting nearby. My head was foggy, and I thought someone was having an argument near us. As I prepared to go check it out I heard a horrible sounding grinding of metal on metal - or metal on gel coat.

When I got top side, I could see what appeared to be two boats who had dragged anchor, and were entangled with Island Time. The shouting that I had heard was Kathy shouting at us trying to wake us up. It worked. Thank you, Kathy! It was a very calm night, so it seemed very unusual that anyone would have dragged. When someone drags an anchor amongst other boats, it is not uncommon to collect other anchor chains along the way, and create a tangled mess of colliding boats. I assumed that is what had happened. Uncertain about the stability of the three boats, I started the engine and called Kim up, thinking that we may need to raise our anchor, and move away from the problem. Although we really could not safely get to our anchor because it was 100 feet in front of us and too close to the chaos. I was contemplating our next move, because it did not seem like we had any good options.

Just then, one of the three boats revved its engine, and in a billowing cloud of black smoke, started heading straight towards us at full throttle. It was terrifying. The boat turned and missed us just off of our port quarter. The boat, named Frangipani (home port Malala Harbor ??)circled back around and rejoined the tangled mess of boats. As Kim and I were looking for an opportunity to raise our anchor (they were all very close to us) Chris yelled at the top of his lungs from Island Time “Nara, look out, he’s coming again”. We immediately focused to get the anchor up with urgency. He circled wider this time, missing us again off of our port quarter. We only had seconds until he was going to circle around a third time, and would certainly collide with us. Our anchor came off of the bottom as he was approaching, and I shouted at Kim to get down on the deck, because I did not want her to get knocked into the water from an impending collision. She was at the bow, securing our anchor. I was able to maneuver our boat, just enough to avoid a collision by what appeared to be a few feet. He had circled all the way in front of our bow and just missed our starboard quarter this time. We had maybe three or four seconds to spare. An incredible debt of thanks to Chris for alerting us that it was time to take immediate action. Kudos to Kim for calmly calling out the anchor direction for me while a massive ghost boat was bearing down at us in the dark at full throttle.

Kathy was hailing the Coast Guard on channel 16, and having a very frustrating conversation with a dispatcher who had a thick accent. We were able to anchor a safe distance away and the Coast Guard assistance did arrive quickly. They were able to board the rogue boat but they did not know how to disable the engine. It took awhile. The single-handed captain of Frangipani was having some sort of medical emergency and was incoherent.

We put our dinghy in the water because it was lashed down to the deck after our long sail. About an hour had passed. By the time we arrived at the scene in our dinghy, Frangipani had been shut down, and the three boats were lashed together. The Coast Guard was providing medical assistance, and eventually took the disabled captain ashore.

As I’m writing this, the three boats appear to be secure, and we are all waiting for daylight to figure out how to untangle the mess. I also need to check our keel and rudder because as the rogue boat circled us that final time, his anchor chain was dragging under us and may have scraped the bottom of our boat. I don’t see how we avoided getting drawn in to the vortex. Another Nara miracle. We are blessed.

Chris and Kathy are in good spirits and good humor. They commented that their hounds, who are usually pretty boisterous when unexpected things happen, never made a sound. Frangipani is a heavy, metal boat with a sharp bow sprit and Island Time took repeated blows and scrapes over a thirty minute period. Their boat has suffered significant damage, but does not appear to be taking on water and hopefully the damage is all cosmetic. The other innocent-victim boat also suffered a significant amount of damage.

I apologized to Chris that it took us over an hour to show up and offer help. He laughed and said there was nothing we could have done and, in fact, there wasn’t really anything he could do at the time. We corrected him… “There is at least one thing you did, you saved Nara!”

Just another Monday in our crazy life.

Island tour of Bequia followed by dinner of local cuisine. Not a bad place to be stuck waiting for a good weather window to sail north.