Highs and Lows
Sunset at the anchoring.
“To travel is to be born and to die at every instant (…) all the things of life are perpetually fleeing before us; the dark and bright intervals are intermingled; after a dazzling moment, an eclipse.”
Victor Hugo
Due to the ARC+ events and parties in the Canary Islands, Cape Verde and Grenada, you meet the same people over and over again. It’s like a school class, like temporary colleagues. Some sailors stay in the background, with others you quickly find a connection.
One of them is Ewan, who has been sailing for ages as a skipper and operating manager of large yachts. At 46, he has already circumnavigated the world, has more than 36,000 nautical miles in his logbook and is becoming a point of contact for many. Not one to be overlooked due to his size, he is the nicest guy and always ready to share his experiences. After the ARC+, he wants to sail the Pacific with his wife and two sons.
Seven Sisters trail in Grenada.
Shortly before the end of the official program, on a Thursday in mid-December, Daniel and I set off on a hike. In Grand Etang National Park, a slippery path leads over buttress roots through muddy jungle to a waterfall. The natural pool below is cloudy, but it makes a refreshing swim. We enjoy the change of scenery.
Waterfall plunge on the end of the trail.
After our return, Alex has bad news. In the morning, Ewan has had a heart attack on his ship and died. Despite first aid of some crews on the jetty and the equipment of superyachts in the marina, his life could not be saved.
We sit on deck and can hardly believe it. No other ARC+ participant has radiated so much energy and joy of life. It's impossible to imagine what his family is going through in these moments.
The organizing committee cancels the Prizegiving Party. Where Ewan's team would have been standing on the podium as runners-up in our category (Cruising B). More than 90 crews don’t travel to a nearby hotel as planned, to celebrate and to dance. Instead, we observe a minute of remembrance in the Marina Village. After the man overboard on the ARC, this is the second death in just a few weeks, this time it hit one of us. Everyone I talk to is shocked. We don't really know how to deal with the situation. Tears stream down the faces of people who have only known Ewan briefly. That says a lot about him.
The sadness also mixes up with gratitude that we have the chance to pursue our own journey. And the opportunities life brings.
Memorial plaque at Paradise Beach Club, designed by Nina (SY Myrto).
Days later, the ARC+ is over. The ships scatter across the bays. Many crews continue their travels slowly, but we don't. Due to an appointment on December 20th in Martinique, we are under time pressure and have to rush north via Grenada, the Grenadines, St. Vincent and St. Lucia in a week.
The traces of Hurricane Beryl on Carriacou pass us by, the ruins of the mastless sailing ships in Tyrell Bay, the railings and life jackets in the mangroves. The destroyed homes and camps on Union Island. The broken palm trees in the postcard idyll of Sandy Island. We travel at a pace that leaves little time to reflect.
Sandy Island. Some palm trees have been knocked over, but it is still the perfect Caribbean location.
Tyrell Bay. Many sailing vessels lack their masts after Beryl.
We briefly snorkel with rays and turtles off the Tobago Keys. On Bequia, our anchor slips away. At night, in the pouring rain, we add chain. We check off stations that deserve more time. At least, Daniel manages to fly his paramotor in St. Vincent. Alex chats with the soccer team of Chateaubelair. Louisa and I swim our laps around the ship while frigate birds circle above us, and we skip St. Lucia. On the evening of the 20th, we arrive in Fort de France as planned.
Anchoring Fort St. Louis: our most urban setting in a long time.
We drop anchor in front of Fort Saint Louis. In the middle of the capital, surrounded by two dozen ships, the atmosphere is surprisingly quiet and peaceful. Only a small ferry passes the field and creates some swell. A Christmas tree twinkles on the bank. From time to time, jolly Caribbean music blares over to us or the engines of heavy bikes roar.
We shop for the holidays, which works wonderfully here, in an outermost region of France. Stella and Louisa bake christmas cookies. We hang up our fairy lights on board, drink bright blue spirulina latte in Jaden’s Café, which could easily be in the 7th arrondissement of Paris. It also costs as much as in Paris.
In Fort de France, we finally find the time to think about the past few weeks, highs and lows, what has worked for und and what hasn’t. We ask ourselves questions about where our path leads us next and we make a decision: in the next few weeks, we will slowly move north, until the other crews catch up with us again. And after that, we don't travel back to Europe via the Bermudas and Azores, but aim towards the Pacific.
It wasn't initially planned, but: We are so close to Fiji, Tonga, to Vanuatu and the Great Barrier Reef. And we want to see this part of the world now, while the opportunity is in front of us.
Fort de France waterfront.
Beautiful, urban anchorage in the shadow of the fort
We were here with 20-25 other ships before Christmas
sheltered, hardly any swell except for occasional waves from the small ferry that sails past the anchorage
One evening there was loud music until one in the morning, echoing from the shore to the anchorage
Short distances to the city with restaurants, cafes, supermarkets, shops on Rue Victor Hugo
Disposing of waste is not easy as the rubbish bins along the promenade are quite small
