A battle with the elements: surviving tropical storm Bret and sailing to Martinique

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of uncertainty and unpredictability, filled with a mix of emotions and unexpected twists. Our journey began with the provisional farewell to Saint-Martin, as we set course for Martinique. Here our plans were quickly changed due to tropical storm named Bret. As the storm intensified, its strength and potential danger became apparent, forcing us to make the decision to seek refuge further south. While Henk and Yvonne arrived safely in Martinique on Friday evening, we navigated back to Martinique just six hours after the storm had subsided.

We gather around the table, review our to-do list and try to make sure we don’t overlook anything. Especially when it comes to supplying the spare parts for the boat. Then we start our last big shopping trip, where we spoil ourselves with the last available Dutch delicacies to enjoy until it’s gone. With everything prepared, we take the decision to sail to Martinique on Friday and thus say goodbye to Saint Martin for the time being. On Monday, Jeroen has an appointment with an Amel technician in Martinique, hoping that all necessary tasks for Henk and Yvonne’s upcoming visit will be completed.

After three weeks of odd jobs on board, we all feel like hoisting the sails again. It is our tradition to honour Neptune with a sip of rum, for a safe and smooth crossing. Full of enthusiasm we lift the anchor from Marigot Bay and leave the bay with boats bobbing in the waves behind us. In recent days, we have already seen a strong wind of about 25 knots in the bay, our curiosity is growing and we wonder if it will become even stronger once we are out of the bay.

Once we have navigated the boat around the north-western tip of Saint Martin, we set course for Martinique, sailing on a half to windward course. Our sailing trip is about 300 nautical miles, which will take us about 2 to 2.5 days. As we embark on this maritime odyssey, the wind eases to a comfortable 18 to 22 knots. It is difficult to describe in a few words the sheer delight, how nice and good the salty water splashes and the caress of the wind on our faces feel, especially after all the boating jobs of the past few weeks. Surrounded by nothing but vast expanses of water with occasional islands on the horizon. A sense of calm slowly comes over us.

Once we’ve adjusted our sails and set the right course, the trusty automatic autopilot takes over and gives us a moment’s rest. We sit in the cockpit and stare at the boundless sea for hours, with a smile that radiates contentment. Flying fish jump out of the water in groups and attract our attention. Their evasive manoeuvres may suggest they are being chased by larger fish, prompting Rajesh to spring into action and cast the fishing rod. Although I had already prepared a meal for tonight, our eyes light up at the thought of our own freshly caught fish.

After a few hours, the adrenaline in our bodies gradually decreases and the rhythmic movement of the sea makes us sleepy. We take turns grabbing an extra hour or two of sleep, making sure someone stays alert and keeps an eye on the ever-changing panorama of the ocean. As the sun slowly sinks towards the horizon, our rod has so far only managed to catch seaweed and therefore no tasty fish for today’s dinner. We bring in the fishing rod for the night and warm up the Biryani I prepared earlier. While enjoying dinner, we watch the sunset colouring the sky with various shades of red, orange and yellow. Soon after dinner, our waiting system kicks in. Everyone withdraws and it becomes quiet in the cockpit. The boat slides over and through the waves, sometimes a large wave crashes over the tip of the boat and you feel the splash of the water in your face.

It is a new moon, which means that the moon is exactly between the earth and the sun and the moonlight is barely perceptible. Jeroen has the first evening watch, as the cloudless night reveals itself and the black canvas above Jeroen begins to reveal its countless stars one by one. During Jeroen’s watch, not much changed and he watched a movie that we downloaded before we left Saint Martin..

The wind eases during my watch, allowing the boat to glide more calmly through the waves. In the cockpit, a hushed silence envelops me, immersing myself in the beauty that surrounds me, finding comfort and inspiration in the starry sky overhead. Two shooting stars’ streak across the sky, leaving a sparkle in their wake. The wind turns a little more to the southeast, so I adjust the course slightly. We sail near the islands of St. Kitts & Nevis, whose illuminated shores are visible in the darkness of the night. Shielded by these islands, the height of the waves and the inclination of the boat decreases. This ensures that we can sleep better, without the risk of being rolled out of bed. Rajesh takes over from me. Like Jeroen, Rajesh indulges in a movie, his gaze occasionally wandering to the ever-changing night sky. The wind returns from the east, causing Rajesh to adjust course to his old course.

Near Guadeloupe the wind changed course and blew from all directions. As time passed, its strength gradually waned and the whisper of the wind faded to near silence. All we could hear was the splash of water against the hull. With a speed of only 2 knots we float slowly forward for some time, until Jeroen decided to start the engine. After half an hour of sailing on the engine, the wind picked up again and slowly picked up again. We hoist the sails again. Jeroen throws out the fishing rod, but unfortunately the sea was teeming with sargassum and we catch nothing but sargassum. In addition to trimming the sails and adjusting the course, we fill the day with reading, catching up on sleep, chatting, watching the many flying fish, scanning the deep waters for dolphins or whales, while we work our appetites. satisfy with tasty meals.

That night, during all our watches, the wind played hide and seek with us every now and then, which kept us moving. We regularly lowered all sails and then started the engine, which buzzed back to life. When the wind regained its strength afterwards, it invited us to hoist the sleeping sails again, which we were only too happy to do. As we sailed off the coast of Dominica, my eyes were drawn to the depth gauge that showed fluctuating numbers. It shifted tantalizingly from infinity to 60, then 45, resting briefly at 30 yards, before effortlessly returning to its infinity reading. The jitters in my stomach and my curiosity then come to life and I think of the mysteries that lie beneath the shimmering surface, could it be a school of fish? A whale? Unfortunately, apart from the occasional flight of a flying fish, the surface of the sea remained silent in the absence of dolphins or whales. Despite the absence of these great beings, this couldn’t dampen the beauty of the moment. The gentle rhythm of the waves, the salty breeze that caresses my face and the vast ocean, the perfect moment to give free rein to my fantasies and I have already created multiple stories in my mind, as endless as the ocean itself.

Martinique has come into view and we sail further south along the coast. At 4 p.m., after having sailed more than 90 nautical miles, we reach the bay of Sainte Anne, where, after checking in and stretching our legs, we get a tasty pizza and eat it on board. Jeroen was up early the next morning to visit Amel’s technician, hoping to obtain the ordered parts and gain insights into our rudder situation. Upon his return, we gathered in the cockpit to discuss the approaching Tropical Storm Bret. The latest weather models suggested the storm would sweep over Dominica and Guadeloupe, while a few models pointed to a possible landfall in Martinique. According to the forecast, the storm would arrive Friday morning, coinciding with Henk and Yvonne’s scheduled flight to Martinique later that evening. Aware of the need for caution, we agreed to reassess the weather models the next morning and make an informed decision. However, the situation quickly evolved as updated weather maps indicated that Tropical Storm Bret was now on track to pass over Martinique. It is therefore no longer justified to stay in Sainte Anne and we contacted Henk and Yvonne. Together we decided that diverting to Bequia was the wisest course of action. Putting safety above all else, we raised anchor and set sail a hundred nautical miles further south. Never before have we seen so many other boats on our AIS system. Everyone leaves as far south as possible. The wind, which was favourable to us diagonally from behind, pushed the boat forward at over 8 knots. Just off the coast of Saint Lucia, we were surprised not once, but twice, with large pods of dolphins happily accompanying our journey. We enjoyed their presence like a bunch of small children. As night fell, things took another abrupt turn. Illuminated by countless flashes of lightning and rain came pouring down from the sky. The approaching thunderstorms came ominously close, each bolt of lightning scorched our eyes with its brilliance, and the resounding claps of thunder echoed through the air. Not wanting to arrive in Bequia in the middle of the night, we reduced speed and rolled up the sails to the third reef and sailed on at a leisurely pace of four knots towards Bequia, the lightning continuing around us. At daybreak we sail into Bequia Bay. It is very busy at the moment and because of this we grab an anchor buoy.

We enjoy the beautiful weather and the good opportunities for snorkeling. While we hoped, our journey took us far enough south to avoid the impending Tropical Storm Bret, we still storm-ready our boat in the hope that our belongings will remain unharmed even if we are caught in the tail end of the storm. would end up. We store all loose items in the boat and other items are secured extra firmly.

As night fell over the bay, all remained quiet and we surrendered to a peaceful sleep. At daybreak, however, the calm was disturbed when rain poured down from the sky, accompanied by a gust of wind that howled like a banshee. With a look at the anemometer we witnessed wind speeds of 35 knots. Will we still get a tail? Sleep eluded me and I sat in the cockpit, where I watched as tropical storm Bret unleashed his fury. Bret came later and more violently than we expected. The anemometer gave wind speeds in excess of 50 knots. Three boats had their anchors loosened from the sand, forcing them to anchor again in the midst of all the violence. Fortunately, they succeeded and the bay remained free of disastrous accidents. Around 9 o’clock the wind gradually decreased and did not exceed 30 knots. Exhausted, Jeroen sought solace in sleep again, while I, filled with a feeling of restlessness, grabbed the laptop and started writing.

Suddenly, at 2 p.m., Jeroen appeared. He indicated that we could sail back to Martinique around 4 pm. Rajesh and I were surprised by this unexpected twist. Less than 3 hours ago we watched the warnings of the colossal waves, up to 5 to 6 meters high, lurking between the islands. However, the revised 3 p.m. weather maps painted a slightly less frightening picture, predicting waves of up to 2 meters. Despite lingering fears, we agreed and diligently prepared the boat for our departure. At 4pm we disconnected from the anchor buoy, bid farewell to the bay and began our journey back to Martinique.

As we sailed out of the bay, Rajesh and I couldn’t shake a lingering sense of unease. Despite the fact that we saw a calm sea in front of the island with only a calm swell around us. The wind was blowing gently at only nine knots, and the current gave us a nice two knots extra, sailing towards Martinique at seven knots. As soon as we came out from behind the shelter of the island and sailed between two islands, the wind became stronger and the waves higher. It started to rain heavily and soon we were able to put a second reef in our sails. The rain continued into the late hours of the evening, until about 10 o’clock, when it finally cleared. The journey is going very well and the boat continues to sail towards Martinique at a nice speed of between 6-8 knots. That night we all have a quiet watch without thunder and rain. Rajesh and I had to hand it to Jeroen that he was right and it was indeed fine to sail back to Martinique less than 6 hours after the storm.

As the morning sun rose and cast a warm glow over the horizon, we approached the beach where Henk and Yvonne had rented an apartment. Just before we dropped anchor, we were welcomed by a group of dolphins, who frolicked playfully in the water and showed off their acrobatic skills. With a smile on our faces we lowered the dinghy and after mounting the outboard engine, we sail to the coast. Excitement filled the air when we could hug Henk and Yvonne tightly in our arms for a hug and a kiss. After we collected their things from the apartment together, Henk and Yvonne boarded our boat, ready to embark on a shared adventure that will last nine days. Can they get used to boat life? Do they have much to do with seasickness? You will read it all in the next blog.