Two days ago we returned to the east end of Tortola to
re-group. A time to do laundry (5
loads), de-frost the freezer/fridge, grocery shop ($200), and take care of some
customs and immigration business. When
you immigrate into the BVI, you need to have a residence to declare. If you’re on a boat, you need to have a
certificate that validates the boat as your residence. Our current certificate expires at the end of
March, but you can pay for a next certificate early.
So, in late January, we went to the main Customs office at
the ferry dock in Road Town and paid the $202.50 (don’t ask what the $.50
covers, I don’t know but I think it has something to do with the copy
machine). We paid at the downstairs pay
booth and then headed upstairs, proof in hand, to receive our certificate. Only, the computers weren’t cooperating that
day. “Sorry,” the officer said, “you’ll
have to come back later to pick up your certificate.”
Oh, bother.
So while Marney preferred de-frosting, I got the assignment
to take a bus into Road Town, do a couple of errands and that included the
return visit to Customs. I get there,
head upstairs and see five folks waiting in the tiny outer area. All look bored, three look especially
frustrated. I’m standing next to one of
the non-frustrated ones; he has a Moorings baseball cap on – he’s a new
employee up here at the Moorings Charter Base, emigrating into the BVI from
Grenada. We stand around for a while. I ask if there’s someone in the inner office
and they shake their heads “no”. One of
them finally leaves (the rest of us hesitating because we don’t want to lose
our place in line – how funny) to check the downstairs Customs area (where the
ferry boat passengers check in). There
are officers there and we troop downstairs – in orderly fashion – and the folks
start checking our papers. When it’s my
turn to show my papers, the officer says, “Well, this is good, but the lady who
prints the certificates isn’t here. Come
back after lunch.”
After lunch? WHEN,
after lunch? Right after, later in the
afternoon? I ask these things.
The officer smiles and asks, When is lunch?
I say, usually around 12 to 1pm
He says, Come after that.
OK, got it.
I wander off around town, attend to some of the other errands
and come back to a favorite restaurant and order a beer and a WiFi. That’s what I really need – the WiFi -
because it’s the only way I can tell Marney (a text message), that I could be
delayed a while. I needed the WiFi,
but… the beer tasted pretty good, too!
At 12:45, I head back across the street and check in with the downstairs
Customs people. They’re not sure if
Chenelle (think that’s her name) is upstairs, but at least I have a name to ask
for. I go back upstairs.
There are the three frustrated guys from the earlier morning
visit. As I arrive, two go inside to an
interview room while the third sits somewhere in the middle of fuming and
squirming. His name is Alvin.
Alvin is a sailor who is married, has four children, and
lives in Dominica. He starts telling me
his story. He and his two friends were
in St. Martin and agreed to move a sailboat south to Dominica. Sounds like a good plan and gets Alvin home
without paying for an airplane ride (about 40 minutes). They leave, heading south, and then spend the
next seven days on the water, arriving in the British Virgin Islands, which
lies north and west of St. Martin.
To reach Dominica, at the southern end of the Leewards, you
would pass by this part of the chain: Saba Rock (it’s one hill with a little
village on top, that’s it)… St. Barts (for the rich and famous)… St. Eustatius (where we once found a
Jewish cemetery and plaques honoring the merchants by the DAR – Daughters of
the American Revolution)…St. Kitts
to the west and Barbuda/Antigua to
the east – Antigua, very British what with Lord Nelsen Bay and all…Nevis, then… Montserrat, closed, apparently forever, because the volcano is
still active and no one lives there…butterfly-shaped Guadeloupe, the place where Jacques Cousteau spent his time
diving….Isle des Saintes, one of the
smallest and most beautiful of all the islands, Marie Gallante, a flat, boring place known for its tasteless rum
and where we found a Catholic Church with a nativity scene showing a little boy
presenting a fish to the Christ Child (rather than those three old guys with
there boxes of spices and gold)… and then finally, Dominica. Our first sailing
in the Caribbean included a visit to Dominica.
We rocked and rolled in the Roseau harbor for two nights and had a grand
time taking a tour up the Roseau River (think: creek). When the little tour boat could go no farther
and slid into the mud, there was, in the jungle, a table and cooler and beer
and rum for sale!
So, Alvin and his friends had agreed to move this sailboat
from St. Martin to Dominica, all of 215 miles, all within sight of these
islands. It took them 7 days and they
ended up 80 miles north and west of their departure island, St. Martin.
I didn’t need to ask, what happened? Alvin launched into telling me the
story. So, on this boat, they headed
south toward their destination. I didn’t
see it, but am guessing that it’s an older boat, smallish, probably without
many of the modern day boat amenities, such as radar, a radio, a diesel
engine. It did have a rudder that went
“south” on them. I suspect they were nearing
Dominica when suddenly, they could no longer steer into the wind (the wind was
coming from the southeast). Sailing into
the wind is a good angle of sail, but you need to have both the sails for power
and a rudder – wheel/tiller – for steering.
Boats usually come with an emergency tiller so you can hand steer if
your primary steering fails. But, if
you’re rudder post is weak, then even that won’t help. They had to go where the wind was taking
them. A bit of a detour, but many know
this story personally.
If you can’t go into the wind, you’re going to go with the
wind. So, the wind turned them around in
a direction where the pressure was no
more than what was left of the rudder post could handle… and now they’re headed
back to where they started. Only, the
winds have pushed them into the seas, away from the island chain, and here’s my
image: a slowly moving/drifting,
slightly sailing boat. A 215 mile,
two-day trip became seven days on the water, going the wrong direction, ending
up in Tortola, BVI, at the Customs and Immigration Offices, trying to gain
entry and…
By the time, Alvin finished his tale, my certificate arrived
at the counter from Chenelle and it was time to leave. He was hopeful that the owner of the boat was
on his way from Dominica by now. I
suspect Alvin appreciated a listening ear; he offered a smile as we
departed. But his story reminds me…
You really can only go where the winds will take you. We church types talk about a laughing God and
our human plans: We plan and God
laughs. One of our first cruising
friends, Bill and Susie Goodwin, summed it up nicely. When sailing, cruising and planning to host
someone, you ask them where they want to meet up or when they want to meet
up. But you can’t plan both. Sailboats are not cruise ships, thank
God. Sailors. You go where the winds will take you. You’re not in complete control.
Perhaps that’s a good thing to remember in life’s
journey. Maybe you can plan for possible
surprises and emergencies…but you can’t plan for all of them. We eventually learn to trust that our wits,
skills, friends, family, our God, will be there in some way, to see us wherever
the wind takes us. Especially if we’re
having trouble with a rudder post.
Whether on land or water, each day brings some new
adventure, some new insight, some new opportunity to learn, to laugh. I was grateful to meet Alvin and I’m sure he
eventually worked through the immigration/customs maze. If not, his next stop would be the US
Virgins, and I understand emigrating to the US is a bit tricky these days.
Fair Winds and Calm Seas
Dave
PS – Bob has a new friend, Betty. Betty was a very tasty pineapple. Bob and Betty look good together. What do you think?
just, wow.
ReplyDeleteand Betty - LOL