Day 8 - Saturday November 10 - Winding Down
Although we set an alarm for 6:30 this morning, its hardly necessary. We had only our second 2 a.m. Hatch Drill overnight, and I was up around 4 a.m., the mattress finally having done in my back. I tried to sleep in the cockpit, but with the wind blowing, it was almost too cold to be outside. I move to the settee by the nav station, but finally give in and get up.
We get sail out of Sprat Bay by around 7 a.m. in order to make the 10:30 ferry at West End. We make it across the Channel in one tack, and arrive at the base at 8 a.m. (the promised opening time), but Rick has trouble raising anyone at the Moorings base on our handheld radio (which worked just fine yesterday when he called Peter Island). With the clock ticking, and us already at the base trying to figure out where to dock, I call on the cell phone and finish the conversation on the radio at the nav station. I sling fenders over the starboard rail and soon we are easing into a slip. Rick and I off-load quickly, but our de-briefer takes some time to arrive and we are now in a hurry, late even. She finally arrives at 9.
After some miscues and miscommunications, we go to customer service to finish up our paperwork and pay for the horseshoe buoy the wind took from us. Even though we filled out a form before leaving clearly specifying that we needed to make the ferry at West End, no one has arranged for the promised cab. However, we scramble around and find a driver and jump in. Climbing into the van, I rap my head so soundly on the roof that I'm in tears. I guess I shouldn't complain; this is the only injury I've suffered all week, when I usually end up bruised and scarred after just a weekend on our own boat on the Chesapeake.
Despite all the scrambling, Rick and I arrive in West End in time for the ferry. While I babysit our bags, Rick goes to the store near the docks to get us some drinks. He not only scares up a couple of Tings (wish they would import the stuff!), but our friends from Jubilee, with whom we chat all the way to Charlotte Amalie. We give them the only boat card we thought to bring with us and hope they will keep in touch.
Once in Charlotte Amalie, we clear U.S. customs and immigration at the ferry dock and grab a taxi to make the 3-hour check-in time for American Airlines. Once we check in, we must go down a corridor, go through immigration again, collect our bags, go through customs again, return our bags to a belt, then go through security. For the first time in this journey, Rick's carry-on bag is searched; and for the first time, I note a military presence. Although going through customs and immigration twice in the space of an hour is a pain, it still beats the drill at SJU on a crowded day.
We have plenty of time, and a legitimate need (no food service on the flight), to have lunch in the terminal. The food is horrible and overpriced we pay $30 for chicken tenders, a cheeseburger, fries, nachos and a pair of Caribs, and the food is barely edible. The airport authorities should be ashamed STT is a gateway to this part of the world, and yet the food service is worse than SJU used to be before they renovated that airport a decade ago.
Our flight to JFK is way late but otherwise uneventful. We land, 4 hours later, at about the time our flight to Dulles should be taking off. Rick and I run through the terminal to our departure gate, and find that miraculously our flight has either been held for us (and others) or it is late. Still dressed in shorts and sandals, we don't find it overly chilly when we go outside to board our commuter jet. We are finally on our way home, and arrive about 30 minutes late. A little confusion with our limo ensues, but we are home by 9:30 p.m.
While I'm not thrilled vacation is over, I am thankful for many things. Warm water for bathing. Terra firma. Mattress firma. Calm winds. The Abacos were affected by Hurricane Michelle, so we made the right choice in going to the BVI, even though my head was spinning with the speed at which we changed direction. Thankfully, damage in the Abacos is minimal and we look forward to our return there in June. We've learned that, as much as we love our friends and families, we are our own best crew. So, when we sail again in paradise, we won't be looking for anyone to fill the second cabin on our PDQ 32 cat
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