The captain and crew of Adonis have returned safely from "de ilons" and I have begun the documentation and review from our trip. Like all good adventures, we encountered good and not-so-good, but always seemed to work things out. In an effort to provide some level of redeemable lesson/experience and include some fun, I will post a new day in our adventure every few days so as not to clog the post with page after page of boring dribble (seems I was labeled as "wordy").

I hope TTOL readers will reflect on our adventure and offer us advice, suggestions, or even condolences <img src="http://www.traveltalkonline.com/forums/images/graemlins/Laugh.gif" alt="" /> where appropriate. It has only been through this great forum that we were able to best prepare and manage many of the "untold details" for such a trip.

Day-1. Where is the Damn Box?!
The alarm sounded at 0300—WAAAY too early for a reasonable human being to rise—but the anticipation of our BVI adventure was too great to quell. My wife (first-mate) and I rose, showered, dressed, and departed to pick up our two other crew members along with Captain Bart, and his wife (the admiral) by 0400. Aside from one crew member walking out of his house without his wallet and an accidental activation of the Captain’s home alarm system on the way out his door, all was well as we departed for the airport in Norfolk, VA.

We took the 0600 flight to JFK, walked the indoor/outdoor maze to the international terminal and awaited our non-stop American Airlines flight to STT. The flight was good—a long four hours—but good. De-planing at STT met us with hot, sticky breezes and a ride to the ferry docks aboard the “Love Cab” with some great folks from Missouri (who says strangers can’t be intimate?). Something was amiss with the Tortola Fast Ferry and we had to re-book aboard the dreaded “Bomba Charger.” No problem, mon. We settled in upstairs at the Petite Pump Room before our scheduled ferry departure and grabbed a few Painkillers, Red Stripes, and assorted liquid libations. Before leaving, I bought some ice and a few cool ones for the ride, making sure to get some plastic cups in an effort to appear “civilized.”
We boarded the “Charger” for the ride when my first-mate noted that this ferry reminded her of a cross between a city bus, an airplane, and a boat: big, sliding windows like a bus, seats like an aircraft, all on a wet, watery hull. Oh, and the wonderful diesel smell that wafted about from the LOUD engines on board (cough, cough). No problem here either, we had beer! Uhhhhh . . . hmmmm . . . Drat! No screw-tops. Anyone got a bottle opener?

It seems my comfortable, “ilon-gripping” ferry ride was going to turn into a dry-run unless I could locate a bottle opener. AHHA!! I noted the heavy aluminum trim around the bus-style windows and quickly reverted back to my younger days when any good, hard square edge gave a person an ample beverage-opening device. I quickly gauged the edge with a bottle, gave the bottle top a sharp rap, and Voila! Liquid refreshment! Desperate times call for desperate measures. No damage to the window edge, so I was comfortable popping a dozen more for our crew’s ride.

Arrived at the Customs and Immigration dock prepared for an hour or so wait; only took 30 minutes in the heat. As we stood outside on the dock waiting, I watched as materials/mail were off-loaded from the “Bomba Charger” onto the C&I dock. Most of the mail and boxes being off-loaded were banged-up and damaged. Most looked like they had been tested by the gorilla from the old Samsonite commercials! Geez, I thought, I hope our box made it okay.

We had mailed a box of “support materials” five-weeks prior to our departure date to the dock at Sunsail. We would pick up our box this afternoon knowing we had ample sunscreen—including the admiral’s SPF-100 Helioplex, our flags, a good dinghy cable and lock, our favorite snacks, a couple of knives, some over-the-counter meds, and other assorted “essentials.” We did not want to carry all of these items with us and incur a $25 baggage fee from the airlines or take the chance of losing the luggage or it never catching up to us, so we mailed it. Probably not a good idea since it cost us $126 to mail a 35 pound box from VA to Tortola. We contacted Sunsail two-weeks out from our arrival date to confirm receipt in Tortola. Difficult to get a straight answer from anyone about the location or receipt of our shipment; a bit distressing to the wife, but we ultimately knew nothing in the box was shipped without the fore-thought, and possibility, of its demise somewhere in the Netherworld of lost mail and packages. If it were lost, then we would hit the Rite-Way for substitutes taking a hit in the wallet. We even contacted the USPS prior to leaving requesting a trace on the box. The trace showed its arrival and departure from Miami to the BVI’s. After that, it appears to have entered the Bermuda Triangle. Gone. No record. Nothing in the box was sacred or anything we couldn’t live without. Lesson learned: next time, we stay the night in STT and check all luggage.

Nevertheless, we departed Customs, jumped aboard our taxi for the short ride to Sunsail where we checked-in and were directed to Adonis, our ride-aboard kitty for the week. Checking-in meant signing all the paperwork—well-handled by Captain Bart and his admiral—and renting all the stuff we would need for the week: a few DVD’s, a couple of blue floating rafts, an A/C inverter and extension cord, etc. Geez! What a lot of deposits put down for all this stuff! Didn’t realize we had to put deposits on the dinghy and all rentals too when we arrived; just figured all this would be included in the cost of renting the boat. Lesson learned: do not assume anything and ask about required deposits next time.

While all of this was going on, my first-mate made an attempt to locate the box we had mailed to Sunsail. Sunsail said they had not received it. Now this began to get my first-mate pretty steamy and before we knew it Capt. Bart and his admiral were searching Sunsail’s storage room for our box too. Unfortunately, they did not know the color of the box and turned up nothing. It was getting late and we needed to familiarize ourselves with Adonis and get things stowed. Our provisions had not arrived yet and we waited a while for them to show up. It was hot. Once the provisions did show, all was stored securely and we began to relax a bit. Sunsail did a good job of providing good provisions. My first-mate and I trekked over to Rite-Way and picked up a few things: wine, some ribs for dinner, sunscreen, a few snacks, and yogurt. We were pleasantly surprised by the vast selection of wine there. Cold ones for everyone!

As we settled down for the evening, we had a few cold beverages and watched as other bareboaters arrived, provisioned, and settled into their new digs for the week. Excitement was everywhere. While I was disappointed, and others had given-up on the box, my first-mate was not to be dissuade. She and her female crew-panion made it their mission for the next morning to find the box. This box couldn’t just disappear with no record. The rest of us would stay behind and finalize for departure.

Day 2. Saturday morning came—and so did the heat. It was hot and my first-mate and I rose early, took a shower in the Sunsail shower room and returned to Adonis to prep some breakfast. Funny thing, as we were departing with our freshly showered carcasses, the water pressure dropped and there was an absence of water to shower, wash, fill tanks, or otherwise do anything on the entire dock. As Steve Urkel would say, “Did I do thaaat?” I guess in this situation, the early bird truly got the worm. When others asked about the water situation, we heard the oft repeated phrase, “We call de mon.” Felt lucky to get a shower before the pressure fell off.

As others rose from their ship-board slumber, the wife and her crew-panion set off to discuss the missing box with Sunsail. I wanted no part of THAT discussion. They were told in no uncertain terms that access to the Sunsail storage room was off-limits. “No way, mon.” After some mild discourse, a treaty was agreed upon and she was allowed to enter the room and search for the box she had mailed. Nothing. Continued dialogue with Sunsail who offered another option: perhaps it was at the Post Office. Edmund at Sunsail had Nikishia taxi our two mail-searching missionaries (at no expense) to the Post Office to inquire. After waiting a short while outside the Post Office for the 0900 opening, a woman opened the door (on ilon time), listened to their tale, and sought out a hand-written log book and began to turn ever-so-slowly through the pages. Page after page was turned until the woman stopped, turned away, and slowly pushed a rolling office chair into a back room. She was gone to the back a short time and returned pushing the chair with a beat-up, gnarly-looking box in it. She found our box! “Not so fast, mees. Dees box be postage due.” Postage-due? Are you kidding me? It cost $126 to mail here! How much postage-due? “$29, mees.” The Post Office showed them copies of the notices they had sent to Sunsail advising the package’ receipt including the postage-due information. Why did Sunsail not accept our package, accept the box and bill us accordingly, or acknowledge its status as postage-due on any of our paperwork? I, for one, would have expected notice in the states, but Toto, “we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Chalk this up to lesson-learned: mail nothing and pay the airline luggage fee. Use the money saved on painkillers. Lesson learned: Mail nothing; cheaper to pay $25 luggage fee.

My first-mate paid the postage and taxied back to the dock where I spotted her walking up the crowded dock, box on her shoulder, smiling triumphantly, even noting a little skip in her step as she and her crew-panion victoriously made their way back to Adonis. Nice, diligent work ladies! While the box looked like it had been used as a soccer ball, most of the contents remained serviceable. A small container of liquid Tide detergent had not made out so well and leaked from its zip-lock type storage bag onto a few items. Maybe next time I will be sure to impact-test the box to plus/minus 5000 ft/pounds first! The entire crew was pleased at the success of our operatives on The Great Box Mission. Extra rum for the crew! Now to focus on our departure.

Captain Bart had requested the services of a skipper to assist him in the initial operation of the Adonis—his first go at cat. This vessel was 46 feet long and 23 feet wide; bigger than anything else he had sailed, but not outside his capabilities. Captain Bart is a hard-core mono-hull sailor but chartered this vessel for the comfort of all on board. Excellent gesture, captain, much obliged! Jerome was assigned as our short-term captain and came aboard to work with Captain Bart in getting us operational. Aside from learning Jerome was vegan, Captain Bart and Jerome discussed a few issues with the vessel, attempting to resolve them. For one, the fuel gauges aboard Adonis did not work. There was no indicator of any sort as to fuel level. Jerome assured us we would be okay. Hmmm. Next, there was an odd, bilgy-sort of holding-tank odor in the starboard berths. It was accentuated when the air conditioning was on. At first, I thought of CO poisoning and pulled up the floor boards to look for any generator or A/C exhaust/intake issue. Nothing. We were affected by a burning, sore throat but did not suffer any of the typical symptoms of CO poisoning—headache, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, etc., so I later ruled that out. Hmmmm. This was a bit unsettling, but apparently not life-threatening. The vinyl window in front of the cockpit did not roll up and secure because the connector was missing. Hmmmmm. Began to wonder what else we might find.

We left the dock and motored out to the breakwater to get some practice weighing anchor. Anchor, check. Motored out to the mouth of Road Harbor and became familiar with the operation of the sails. No wind, but good to get the feel of the sheets. Sails, check.

We set a course for Spanishtown on Virgin Gorda—a decent drop-off point for Jerome and an easy water-taxi ride for him back to Roadtown. With sails up, Captain Bart and crew got a feel for this big kitty in short order. After a while, we lowered the sails and motored to Spanishtown where we picked up a mooring ball on our first try and dinged Jerome to the dock. We appreciated his insight and assistance. The crew was anxious to get in the water and enjoy some cooling-off time. Leaving the captain and admiral onboard, we dinged over to the beach north of the ferry dock and snorkeled the coral heads there. Geez, what a load of spiny sea urchins! We also explored the small, coral-covered beach noting the many cactus, shells, and conch everywhere. We returned to Adonis for a dinner of burgers and beers. Not too bad a beginning. Now, if the weather will just hold out . . .