The boy who cried “Hurricane!”

Hurricane Irene did her worst and finally expired over Quebec. Like an ex girlfriend of mine with the same name, Irene liked to share it around a bit. Quebec, for goodness sake!

Here in the Caribbean we expect to be hit by hurricanes. Those who have lived here a while know what to expect, we are aware of what could happen and how destructive a storm can be. There was a time in the Caribbean when most people, especially those living on boats, were rather blasé about hurricanes because they were such a rare occurrence, in fact business owners who also owned yachts enjoyed the low season and went sailing. In St. Maarten that all changed on September 5 1995 with the arrival of Hurricane Luis. A category 5 monster storm that devastated the island and changed the way those who experienced it think about hurricanes. Once you have been through a destructive hurricane, you will never react in the same way again.

An island like St. Maarten is a pinprick in the ocean, and the chances that it will take a direct hit from a tropical storm or hurricane are low. Tropical storms vary in size and move at different speeds. Some storms are tiny in diameter and if they miss the island by 30 miles, we may get nothing more that a clap of thunder, a squall and a rain shower. Other storms are hundreds of miles across and can cause serious damage even if the eye wall never comes within 70 miles of land.

The problems begin when a storm doesn’t arrive as predicted, and that brings us to the boy who cried “hurricane!”

Ignorance is bliss.

Shortly after Irene swept north along the east coast of the USA, many said that it was a waste of time preparing for a storm that hardly affected them. Others were left crying amongst the remains of their possessions.

Forecasters do a wonderful job in predicting the paths of hurricanes but even with all their technology they don’t always get it right. It is not an exact science.

The next few times the forecasters get it wrong and you decide they are crying wolf, keep your weapons handy. The next wolf could be wearing sheep’s clothing.

Emily, don't be a bitch ...

As I write, Mother Nature is giving birth to what could be the first hurricane of the season, hurricane Emily. No abortions, no way of stopping it, nothing anyone can do but watch and wait to see if Emily will pay them a visit and leave them homeless, destitute or dead.
Having spent a good part of my life in the tropics in what is know as the hurricane belt, I have been through my share of tropical storms and hurricanes both ashore and afloat. The worst was hurricane Luis, a category 5 monster that devastated the island of St. Maarten, sinking or throwing ashore almost 1200 boats in the process. The two photos were taken during and after hurricane Luis. I rode out the storm at anchor … well, actually, seven anchors and a massive mooring.

At the end of the storm, which lasted two days, our boat was about the only one left in the war zone of Simpson Bay Lagoon that wasn’t damaged, and to this day I don’t know why. I had boats sink under and around me. Astern, a dozen yachts, some upside down, littered the shore and many were beyond the beach and amongst the trees.
I spent a good part of the next couple of weeks diving in the toxic brew of the lagoon, blindly feeling my way through the wrecks, salvaging what I could for friends whose homes and dreams were lost, some without trace. That exercise left me with a serious respiratory infection that has bothered me on and off to this day.
I remember friends hugging and sobbing on the beach, some not only lost their boats and everything they owned but eventually saw their marriages and relationships end in ruin. Looting was rampant until the Dutch military arrived with their helicopter gunships. Armed soldiers enforced a curfew. There was no water or electricity. People found God, others kicked him into touch.

Throughout the worst 48-hours of the storm, when the wind reached 155pmh, I was monitoring the VHF radio and heard some remarkable things. I heard someone on a ship, aground and battered by giant waves, ask the police for assistance. A police woman replied: “We are all too frightened to leave the station. God be with you.” Then the radio went dead or she turned it off. There was incredible humor, too. One skipper spoke calmly as his boat was driven onto the concrete dock outside a local bar and receive this from another yacht: “Order us a packet of fags and a bottle of rum, we’re right behind you.”
One thing I will never forget is the power unleashed by the storm and thinking, even then, how wonderful, nay beautiful, it all was.
Before air and water mixed and made it impossible to breathe, I would crawl along the deck to the bow wearing my mask and snorkel, check the warps and then shuffle back to the cockpit again. Eventually, the return journey was made backwards because it was two dangerous to turn around. On my final jaunt, I was blown out like a flag and that put paid to that.
If you are reading this and you live in the hurricane belt, then stay safe. If you live elsewhere, please wait a few days before naming your daughter, Emily.

Bugger 'elf and Safety, let's raft across the Atlantic! The amazing voyage of An-Tiki

The world needs more rafters!

The arrival in St. Maarten of the raft An-Tiki caused quite a stir. I was on the dock at the St. Maarten Yacht Club when the raft and its crew, Anthony Smith (85) David Hildred (57) Andrew Bainbridge (56) and John Russell (61) were towed through the Simpson Bay Bridge and into the lagoon at the end of their 66-day voyage from the Canary Islands. I didn’t Blog about it at the time but it was certainly worth a big mention.

The man behind the voyage, Anthony Smith, is a well know explorer who, amongst many other things, lists flying over the Alps in a balloon on his rather impressive CV. Anthony also presented a science program on British TV. The oldest member of the crew, Smith made headlines when he celebrated his 85 birthday in mid-ocean and his fellow rafters made him a cake. Images of the event went around the world and appeared on most major news networks.

The voyage of An-Tiki raised money for the charity WaterAid and the raft itself was built out of Polyethylene water pipes supplied by GPS PE Pipe Systems in the UK. “WaterAid is a very good cause. We’re very happy to be promoting them. We had a great trip and we can say that WaterAid can benefit,” said Smith shortly after stepping ashore.

Sailing Master David Hildred described how, when the rudders broke shortly after leaving the Canaries, they were able to steer by means of four dagger boards, one at each corner of the raft, and a long sweep attached to the stern. “We managed to get this incredible vessel to track very well, not only dead downwind, but on broad reaches and even on a beam reach,” he said.

An-Tiki’s crew has returned to the real world, leaving the raft at anchor in French St. Martin. I see her every day and still marvel at her amazing voyage and think about the adventurers who brought her across an ocean.

The voyage of An-Tiki may not be over. When the raft left the Canaries, the plan was to head for the Bahamas. According to Hildred, that voyage north might still happen!