The Run to Carriacou

We raised anchor at about 9 a.m. and motored north along Grenada’s west coast. I had hoped we might be able to pass Sauteurs and head north so as to see the natural stone arch London Bridge, just north of Grenada. The wind was against the idea. It was blowing between 15 nm/h and 20 nm/h and we’d be heading into the teeth of it. We altered course and headed straight up for Tyrrel Bay. And straight over Kick ‘Em Jenny.

We were not alone. A ship and a monohull that was able to point far closer to the wind than poor Django, left us in their wakes as they skimmed over the submerged volcano.

A ship passing us en route to Kick 'em Jenny and beyond

I confess, I cannot report much about the crossing. I had taken a motion sickness prevention pill before we left Gouyave and it knocked me for a loop. I think I slept 16 of the next 24 hours. I do know there was a pretty ferocious squall, with winds gusting to 35 nm/h. The man who won’t use the camera took a picture as it bore down on us.

Squall coming from Carriacou

We were in Tyrrel Bay on Carriacou by lunchtime. We attempted to anchor, but the skipper was nervous in such crowded quarters. Tyrrel Bay is a hotspot for cruisers who, with their boats, congregate there in the dozens. Weather was in the forecast and many had ducked into the safe and sheltered anchorage to wait out the blow. A mooring bobbing by our side solved the problem. We picked it up and settled in.

While I carried on with my intensive sleeping, WW managed to put a couple of extra lines on the mooring. The wind howled, the rain pelted down. We spent our time opening hatches when the rain stopped and battening down when it started again. The wind blew up to 30 nm/h, moaning and wailing through the rigging and around our hulls.

The night brought more of the same. In the following hours, I would learn about tropical waves and intertropical convergence zones and...well, Basic Meteorology for the Tropical Sailor. Naturally, I’m willing to share...in the next post.