What a blast! We just returned from a week in the BVI and I’ve decided to write a log before I forget everything.

Saturday, December 9
1:00am done packing, time for a nap
4:00am alarm ringing, time to go. Ugh.
4:45am After a caffeine infusion, we set off for JFK. There’s practically nobody on the roads, so we put the hammer down. Less than an hour to the airport. The flight was smooth and uneventful, depositing us on Beef Island in the early afternoon. At this point, I decided to go on Ilon time and stop looking at clocks. Contrary to popular sentiment, the airport and customs officials were very nice and ushered us to the front of the line. I was juggling five big suitcases and a couple of smaller ones, so it was a pretty funny scene. Jodie came to the rescue and lassoed some guy to get the bags into a cab.
Our cabbie gave us a guided tour of his island on the way to Cane Garden Bay. I guess that’s how he justified the $60 he charged me. Billy was only interested in the billy goats, while Emily decided she would catch us a chicken for dinner. On arrival at the Old Works Inn, the twins found coconuts and began a collection while Jodie befriended a dog. Quito helped us get our bags to our room, and offered to split a coconut for the kids. Very friendly folks here. We walked across a very dangerous little road to the beach, where we stumbled into Myett’s for some Roti, painkillers, bushwhackers, and pretty much anything else I read about and wanted to try. Jodie’s dog followed her everywhere, along with a puppy I had to pry from her hands when we left. The kids just dove in the surf with their clothes on. They were amazed when I encouraged them to do it. What the heck, we were on vacation. We caught a couple of Quito’s songs at his namesake bar before retiring to our suite (he is one of BVI’s more famous entertainers). We were so tired that even the thumping bass from the band didn’t keep us awake.

Sunday, December 10
Breakfast on the beach with Jodie’s dogs, followed by a quest for a flag to fly from our yacht. No luck. The restaurant owner split a coconut the kids found and served it up. It was really funny to see them eat fresh coconut for the first time. Their faces were priceless—expecting something sweet, but getting something very different. Emily spied some sugar, which she and Billy used to completely camouflage the coconut into some sort of a dippin’ dot, which they then devoured.
We caught a cab to Nanny Cay, where we met “Waypoint”, our electrically-powered 41’ sailing catamaran. Our provisions were already there, but we couldn’t board until 12:00. Once aboard, we worked frantically to get everything stowed so we could get underway in time to sail to Trellis Bay that afternoon. But it was not to be. The mandatory briefing kept getting delayed while the understaffed briefers were on other boats. We didn’t leave until 4:15. Bad job Catamaran Company. The briefer took us just beyond the channel marks then hopped off. I guess he decided I was a competent sailor before he saw me take the helm. I turned into the wind to begin the beat to Trellis. The Sir Fancis Drake Channel was pretty kicked up, with about 25 kts wind and 7-9 foot seas directly ahead. Just then, the windsurfer that lay on the trampoline decided to take flight. Jodie dove on it, taking one for the team. The kiddie sail attacked her, knocking her down. Gee, I hope the auto pilot works. It did, I wrestled the windsurfer into submission, and ushered a bruised wife back into the cockpit. No problem, I said. That’s what the $400 of booze was for. She didn’t like my joke. At that point, I’m certain Jodie was really scared about this vacation and wishing she were back on land. She kept asking me questions like “boy, there sure are a lot of ropes on this boat. Do you know what they all do?” Yes, dear. I did the bulk of my sailing before I met her. I still leave her at home when I sail because she limits how far over I can heel. So she wasn’t sure I knew what I was doing. We pressed on. Jodie went inside and I decided we needed to become a sailboat. Out with the jib, and we were soon making 7 kts on a close reach. I was told hull speed on that boat was about 7-8 kts, so we were humming just fine without the main.
I eyed the sun and estimated we had about ½ hour until sunset. Time to find a mooring. We were abeam Fat Hog’s Bay and my stomach was feeling a bit queasy, so I decided not to press on to Trellis but to duck in for the night. What a crappy little place. Our fathometer, intermittent all day, decided to quit completely as I approached the charted reefs. Jodie, still sore from her wrestling match, took the boat hook to snag a mooring. I pulled up to one, Jodie reached out, yelled something, and pulled back. She said she was getting shocked. Crap. Off to another ball. I advised her to touch only the trampoline netting and the rubber parts of the boat hook. By now, she was pissed. BAP! A shock on the next ball, and she told me in no uncertain terms where to place the boat hook. I asked a gentleman in a dingy to give us a hand securing a mooring ball. He told me that the mooring balls there were not to be trusted and recommended anchoring. Great. I found a nice place to anchor, although the whole bay was rolling quite a bit. I got shocked when I put the bridle on the anchor rode. I tried the mooring light, but it too was on vacation. At this point, I was ready to take a cab to the Catamaran Company and tell them to come get their ‘electric’ boat and give me something less likely to kill its crew. But they were closed. So we dropped the dingy and went to what used to be the Harbor View for dinner. I say “used to be” because a couple of weeks before we arrived, it changed over to a Chinese restaurant. Great. Chinese food on a seasick stomach. The alternative across the street was Mexican. I was HATING this place. We hiked up the road a bit to where another regular restaurant was supposed to be. It was closed. Their bar was open, serving a limited menu, so we stayed. As it turned out, they had great food. After a good meal and some ginger ale, my stomach settled and we headed back to Waypoint. Emily found some flowers to pick, Jodie and I had a couple of cocktails, and we were off to bed.

Monday, December 11
Now, this was not how I wanted to spend my first night onboard a boat—on anchor in a rolly bay. Not only was I unaccustomed to the sounds the boat was supposed to make, I kept remembering little things to check. For instance, if the genny ran out of diesel, the air conditioning would suck the batteries dry. So I kept getting up throughout the night to check things like fuel levels, new noises, and drag circles. Incidentally, there is no electric hum in the cabins like some reports suggest. Overall, not a restful night. Jodie didn’t fare much better, so she slept in while I made breakfast and got ready to get underway. I spent two hours wrestling with the anchor. Apparently, I didn’t need to worry about dragging as I was attached to a couple hundred pounds of abandoned chain. Jodie emerged from the cabin to see a web of mooring lines winching at the anchor rode, and me rapidly losing my “vacation mode.” Jodie minded the helm while I dove in and freed us. At last, I hoisted full canvas and we were underway for Trellis Bay.
The good part about a short cruise is that you arrive early enough to snag a prime mooring. We picked a nice, protected location upstream from the raw sewage spewing from all the yachts and I braced for the inevitable shock as I hooked the pennant. Disgusting that there are no discharge prohibitions in harbors. My pilot friend Luke was waiting for us at the end of the Loose Mongoose dock. I was 2 hours late meeting him due to the anchor adventure. I thought I’d find him sipping painkillers at the Loose Mongoose, but the place is closed on Mondays. In fact, he managed to arrive Sunday night, and had been cooling his heels for quite a while. The owner of the Loose Mongoose balled me out for not calling her on the VHF. So I bought Luke lunch at the Cyber Café. I had the curried goat, which was delicious. Billy got a kick out of eating a billy goat. $120 later, (ouch!) we were back on Waypoint, but with a mechanic from the Catamaran Co. He affixed a new grounding strap to the inverter, and reported the problem solved. OK, I said, let’s test. I dropped anchor and raised the wet rode, establishing a ground. I touched it and felt that familiar tingle of 120VAC. I invited the mechanic to cop a feel. I admit a certain sadistic satisfaction in watching him get bapped. Fixed, eh? Jodie was outright joyful someone besides her got shocked—she didn’t think I believed her. My theory is that someone wired 120VAC to common. Waypoint blew several inverters over the two or so seasons she’s been in service, yet no qualified electrician thought to investigate the possibility of reverse polarity. The problem was temporarily solved by shutting down the inverter. An engineer from the builder was scheduled to arrive the day after my charter to finish the troubleshooting. So if you have an electric boat, be sure you find a competent electrician.
While the mechanic and I played like moths on a bug zapper, Luke rigged the windsurfer and drifted off to the Last Resort. I soon followed in the dingy with Billy, advising Luke on how to make more elegant water entries, vs the flailing headers he was taking. When he reached the reef, I jumped on the board and sailed it back to the other side of the bay. There were muscles screaming at me that I didn’t know existed. We met Chris, the windsurfing instructor who Luke had some beer with earlier. He helped me tighten the rig and gave Billy a ride on the front of his training barge. Billy was disappointed when I told him he couldn’t ride with me because he would sink the board I was on. After some painkillers to soothe sore muscles, we had a nice meal at the Last Resort, then headed to bed. I went to sleep on the trampoline under the stars. Incidentally, the new donkey at the Last Resort died. But Jodie made friends with another dog.

Tuesday, Decemeber 12
Luke and I got the kids fed and the boat ready to get underway. A couple of squalls in the area kept us on the ball for an extra hour or so, but we finally departed for Marina Cay to take on fuel. I’d swear the crew of the boat at the fuel dock in front of us was there for breakfast. I held position off her quarter for about an hour while her crew mulled about the island. Nit wits. Once she pulled away, I spun Waypoint 180 degrees and backed her into the pier, just like the marina briefer advised. That way, I didn’t have to deploy fenders, but could tie up stern to and hold off the pier by going ahead slow. The fuel dock guy thought I was nuts. Well, it worked, and it was kind of cool to look off the sugar scoops and see the screws turning.
Topped off with diesel, we headed for George Dog to get in a little scuba diving. Luke and I suited up, and Jodie dingied us over to our chosen site. I dropped in, but Luke forgot his fins and had to go back. When Luke returned, we submerged. I got about 20 feet down, and my right ear stopped equalizing. Crap. The balance of the dive was more of a snorkel. When we surfaced an hour later, my nose started running like a faucet and hasn’t stopped yet. While Luke and I were down, Jodie took Billy and Emily snorkeling. She picked us up, I lost my mask, and that was it for diving for the rest of the trip. What a waste of money on scuba gear. We let go of the mooring and headed for Gorda Sound.
Gorda Sound is perhaps the most beautiful place I have been. Crystal clear water sheltered on all sides by dramatic hills, blown by a fresh sea breeze. Wow. We tried to moor at Saba Rock, but they were full. No free water this trip. Just as well, because Saba was really windy and the boats moored there were moving around a bit. We motored down to Biras, but found that a bit windy too. So we snuggled into a sheltered mooring at the Bitter End. I cooked jerk chicken, and Luke and I proceeded to drink like sailors. At some point that evening after the kids were asleep, Luke and I decided it was a good idea to check out the bar at the Bitter End. We dingied over, and it was almost empty. We had a drink, listened to a pretty good steel drum band, then decided to try out Saba Rock. That place was empty too, although it looked like a great bar. A couple more drinks, and back to Waypoint. Tonight was Luke’s turn to sleep on the trampoline under the stars.

Wednesday, December 13
Needless to say, we got a bit of a late start. I dropped Luke at the ferry at about 9 so he could go back to work on Thursday. I briefly entertained the idea of sailing to Anegada, but quickly thought better of it. We ran out of water (despite the tank gauge reading plenty remaining), so I pulled us in to the fuel dock. The forecast looked pretty good for the next few days, so we decided to stay at the Bitter End. Jodie fell in love with the place. She arranged a cab for us to visit the Baths, so that was our adventure d’jour. We got a great tour of the island, stopping for photos and drinks. Andrew, our cabbie, was basically ours for the day for $12 per person. What a deal. We had lunch at the Top of the Baths, then descended for some cave exploration and snorkeling. The Baths are a rock formation that doesn’t look like it belongs on the islands. It has been eroded into lots of little caves and passages, and Billy and Emily had a blast exploring. Jodie gathered a bag of interesting coral. We got back to Waypoint by 5, in time for cocktails and dinner at the Bitter End. The food was a little pricy, but good. Jodie and I are somewhat “foodies,” and we are spoiled by the high quality restaurants in the NY-CT area. None of the restaurants we visited measured up to those standards, but the fare was still quite edible. On returning to Waypoint, I started the genny and it promptly overheated. Ugh. Well, I wanted to convince Jodie that we didn’t need air conditioning, so I opened all the hatches. We both slept well.

Thursday, December 14
I didn’t want to call the Catamaran Company until we were underway, in case they didn’t want us to leave Gorda Sound without our genny. So I topped off our water and got underway for Anegada. I set the main on the second reef as soon as we cleared the mooring field. It was blowing a steady 25 kts, and seas were forecast at 9 feet. Waypoint, as I mentioned, is an electric boat. She is powered by four 6HP electric motors, two on each shaft. She has a 144V DC generator that replenishes 12 mammoth 12V batteries. The batteries can also be replenished while under sail by the action of the propellers. I had no more genny, so it was up to sail power alone to keep our batteries charged. I was carefully monitoring voltage and amp hours to ensure we had plenty of power for motoring if needed, without discharging our batteries to the point where they may be damaged. It was time to put the theory to the test.
Clearing Gorda Sound, we turned NNE on a close reach in 5-7 foot seas. Waypoint was cruising at about 6.5 kts, and the propellers generated 1.5A per shaft. Our electrical load was about 1-2A, but the Link 10 showed .3A charging on average. At that rate, it would take a long time to make back the 26 Amp hour deficit we had. No matter, we could draw over 100 Amp hours without damaging the batteries. Voltage still showed 153V (generator voltage was 168V, and we departed the dock with 155V and -12 amp hours. Voltage while the motors ran dropped to 146V. The manual said not to drop voltage below 138. Amps while motoring at 6kts were -40 per shaft, but jumped around a bit. You would blow a breaker if you exceeded -100A total. Motoring at 3.5 kts drew about 25 amps per shaft. The manual said she could motor for two hours on a full charge). Propeller drag cost us about a knot with the propellers in N compared to when the throttle was advanced so as to zero the ammeters, but if you bumped the throttles just slightly forward, you got about .6kts back and the charging current improved. Overall, I expect an electric cat to be about .5 kts slower than a diesel cat.
Technical details aside, this was a manly sail. So I let Billy take the helm. Seas built to a 7 foot average, with the occasional 10-footer spraying us as it broke over our starboard hull nearly broadside. Billy and I were having a blast! Emmy was green, and laying in the cabin. I played with pointing the boat. If I got too close to the wind, about 35degrees, I got so much weather helm she would just round up uncontrollably. This is where I really appreciated the electric engines. Tap the windward throttle, and you’re back in control. In fact, motor sailing was the same as pure sailing, except you went faster. There was no additional noise or vibration. It is noteworthy, however, that anytime you are underway you must have the keys on, which energizes some fairly loud cooling fans. With 20+ kts of wind, you don’t hear the fans or the slight wine of the electric motors.
Jodie came out to help me go over Walker’s Anegada approach instructions for the umpteenth time (I get seasick if I read while in heavy seas), and she was indispensable helping me confirm landmarks as they came into view. Anegada is an unspoiled paradise, about 12 nm north of Virgin Gorda. Unlike the rest of the island chain, Anegada is made of coral and lies only 15 feet in elevation. You can’t see it until you are about halfway there, and it is surrounded by treacherous reefs that have claimed hundreds of ships over the years. Luckily, a gentleman named Walker dedicated a lot of time to developing detailed instructions for getting to Anegada safely. He was kind enough to share them with me, and I relied on them heavily. We arrived without incident, dropping the hook in front of the mooring field. I knew there was coral behind the mooring field, so I wasn’t about to venture into more sheltered water until I checked it out in the dingy.
I called the Anegada Reef Hotel for dinner reservations. They took our dinner order over the VHF. They only prepare dinners that are ordered by about 4:00—you can’t just show up and expect food. Billy and I headed in to Neptune’s Treasure, where we met Randall. He told us exactly where the coral was, and where anchor holding was good. We returned to Waypoint, and motored over to one of Randall’s sheltered moorings. The comedy began when Jodie hooked the mooring ball. I endeavored to hold Waypoint in position, although I couldn’t see the ball. Jodie was expecting me to come forward and cleat off the pennant, but I thought she was doing it. So we futzed like amateurs for five minutes until we were finally secured. I’m sure we were very entertaining for the folks at the bar at Neptune’s Treasure.
Anegada Lobster is legendary, especially when prepared on open barbecues on the beach at the Anegada Reef Hotel. Jodie and I each ordered one, and the kids got a rack of ribs each. Our table was in the sand, closest to the water’s edge. What a place! I got to feast on two lobsters, as Jodie didn’t care for it. Billy loved it, so he and I split Jodie’s. I almost forgot to mention the Rum Smoothies—all I can say is YUM! We headed back to Waypoint and sat on the trampoline and watched shooting stars until the kids dozed off. I was absolutely relaxed, having gained a mastery of the boat and the peculiarities of navigating the BVI’s.

Friday, December 15
I met Bozo the mechanic the next morning at the Anegada Reef. He was supposed to have worked on our boat the previous day, but had a job on Virgin Gorda then decided to have a few drinks at the Anegada Reef instead of working on Waypoint. He told me to meet him at 8, but was still asleep at 8:30. Clearly, I’m in the wrong career. He assessed our genny while I tried to get some fresh bread at Pam’s. Pam’s is now closed for the foreseeable future, so you have to go to the settlement for fresh baked goods. I ordered breakfast from Anegada Reef and brought it back to the boat. Bozo informed me I needed a new salt water impeller, so the genny was going to stay down. OK, time to get underway.
I read the sail from Anegada to Jost Van Dyke is best described as “crackin”. That’s an understatement. I hoisted full canvas into a 20 kt freshening breeze, and set off on a 23 mile broad reach. Waypoint quickly accelerated to a cruising speed of 8 to 9 kts. I was sporting wood. The propellers were generating 3 to 4 amps per side as we sliced through 5 foot seas. Jodie kept the drinks flowing as we partied all the way down to Sandy Cay. We were showing a constant 19kts of relative wind when we were going 9 kts. We surged the boat to 13.7 kts in a big puff that put close to 30kts over the deck (remember we were traveling with the wind, so true wind was probably running 25 gusting to 35 kts). CRACKIN’ SAIL!!!!
Jodie spied Sandy Cay and mandated a stop. It is a postcard-type island, with glowing blue water and white sandy beaches bordered by swaying palms. We dropped the hook and dingied over. I set the dingy anchor, and we explored the trails leading around the island. Billy, Emily, and Jodie were obsessed at catching the numerous hermit crabs that scurried across the paths. I scouted out ahead, cresting a hill to reveal a stunning view of Sandy Cay, Jost, and Tortola. Back on Waypoint, we motored over to Little Harbor. I wanted to go to Foxy’s which is in Great Harbor, but I thought Great Harbor might be a little rolly. We pressed on anyway. I maneuvered into an anchorage in Great Harbor, looked around, and decided it wasn’t such a great harbor. Back to Little Harbor. We saw two overpowered dingies racing along the coast. They almost lost it numerous times in the 4’ seas that were winding their way around Jost. OK, a younger me would probably be doing the same.
Sidney, of Sidney’s Peace and Love Café, invited us over for dinner. We tied up at his dingy dock and caught a ride to Foxy’s from (I think) Sidney’s daughter. Cool looking place. Foxy’s has a live band and a barbecue on Fridays, so we were in for a feast. I must admit that at $28 per for adults and $15 per for 6 year olds, it was no bargain. Actually, the food wasn’t very good either—2 types of chicken and some dried out fish. And Foxy only sings at lunchtime now. I think we’ll skip Foxy’s on our next trip. We went back to Waypoint where I enjoyed my nightly ritual of a snifter of Johnny Blue on the trampoline before retiring to a now air conditioned cabin. Earlier in the day, I reached the Catamaran Co and they told me the location of the genny’s sea strainer. There was a fish in it. It had been there some time, and was quite putrid. I heaved it overboard and the genny worked fine.

Saturday, December 16
We had a ton of food onboard, and today was to be our last full day. I decided to cook pancakes and sausage. As soon as the sausage started to sizzle, a swarm of flies descended on us. I hate flies. They bit the kids, pissed me off, and generally wrecked the morning. I shut the salon, hoping to keep more flies out, but it was hot and smelled like sausage. The salon a/c kept icing over, so it was completely useless for the entire trip. We ate and cleaned up as quickly as possible, getting underway for some ventilation. We still had 20 to 25kts of breeze, so I raised the main only and pointed Waypoint towards Thatch Island Cut. The winds and currents are a bit shifty rounding the western tip of Tortola, but we made it through on sail alone. We tacked along the north eastern shore of St. John’s, making only about 3 kts on GPS (the paddle wheel speed never worked either). I took some Sudafed earlier in hopes of clearing my head to dive the Indians, but I was still plugged.
We sailed into the Bight on Norman Island. I took an upstream mooring, then rigged the windsurfer. I asked Jodie to pick me up in an hour—nice not to worry about tacking back to your start point. About 15 minutes later, the sky darkened. Great. Some decent folks on a tender invited me over to wait out the squall. It was about 35’ long, and obviously a high-end custom. I chatted with my hosts, and found that they were the scouting party for a 200’ yacht whose owner was looking for a nice place to snorkel. The squall passed, so I jumped back on my board and sailed off to the Willie T, a floating bar/restaurant. After a few more tacks, Jodie and the twins came out to pick me up. I secured my board and took the kids snorkeling in the caves just southwest of our anchorage. Captain Kidd was rumored to have buried his treasure near there, and this site was the inspiration for the book Treasure Island. The kids couldn’t wait to find the treasure. While we were snorkeling, guess who pulled up—our friends in the tender, along with their boss and his friends. I guess they found a good snorkeling place. We saw a stunning sunset, the first that was uninterrupted by land.
We zipped back to Waypoint, picked up Jodie and my free drink coupons, and headed to the Willie T for cocktails. You used to be able to dive off her top deck (pretty girls got a free t-shirt if they did it naked), but someone died a couple of months ago, prompting a ban on such activity. There is now a wire sign that reads “Willie T” that blocks the former launch pad. I was told that the ban was actually enforced. So I bought my T-shirt. After a quick drink, I was back on Waypoint cooking jerk shrimp and anything else I could use up. It made for a tasty dinner.

Sunday, December 17
Billy noticed some kids yesterday on the cat moored off our bow. He swam over and made friends while I was windsurfing. I offered their captain our remaining provisions, so after breakfast I took three garbage bags of provisions over. Yes, we always over-pack, over-buy, over-do. We were off our mooring early, and I raised the main for Nanny Cay and our slip. We made good time, and were at the channel entrance by 9:00. The Cat Co asked me to call them from outside the channel so they could send a pilot out. Funny how they let me go to Anegada, but didn’t trust my close quarters maneuvering. Well, nobody answered. I took her in to the fuel dock. Nobody answered there, either. It took about 45 minutes for someone to come hand me a fuel hose. After topping off, I motored over to Cat Co’s docks. I found our mechanic and asked him where to put the boat. A couple of their briefers came out, horrified at the prospect of me putting the boat into a slip. They didn’t know I own a twin inboard boat. One was instructing me to center my rudders. I said no, and I crabbed Waypoint sideways until one of them could get on. I surrendered control, marking the end of perhaps the most fun vacation of my life. We were officially off ilon time and on our way for a 3:15 flight home. But before leaving, I got one other small satisfaction—Waypoint’s owners were arriving that afternoon at 5:00 to take her out. I toyed with the idea of not reporting any problems, but I decided to be a nice guy and give the mechanic a detailed list of Waypoints numerous issues. I hope the owners get her sorted soon, as she is a fine vessel. I liked the electric propulsion so much, our booking next season is on Dignity, an electric Lagoon 420 still under construction. Look out BVI, we return January 11-19, 2008!

Cheers!
Brett