Heading north from West indies in a 27foot sailboat, moving along the chain of islands called the lesser antilles aiming for the world championships in freediving on Long Island Bahamas in late november.
One would think that being on a boat in the west indies would leave lots of opportunities for freedive training. Land is scarce, water abundant. Clear warm water. And you the skipper can do what pleases you. Freshwater in the tanks, diesel filled up, bunked up with rice and heaps of cans of food and even a little fridge supplied by free energy from your solarcells. Noseclip on and and just fall over the side in your underwear, there might even be dolphins.
In short: Freedom.
That´s the fairy tale, the reality looks like this.
You the skipper is responsible for the safety of this 8 meter yacht, always keeping an eye on the weather, the violent squalls that might occur, the tradewind swell tossing you around, the salt and the heat, did I mention the heat, and the salt? Gnawing on everything onboard the relentless sun beating down. There is constantly 5-10 things that can be repaired. Is the engine overheating, is that gas connector corroded? Why isn´t the left solar panel charging, why is the oilpressure gauge not functioning, where the hell is that dripping water by the chart table coming from. Always a risk of falling overboard, of fire, of leakage in this 40 year old boat, sickness, theft and vile authorities attacking you with paperwork. If I just had some more freshwater to keep salt out of ears and hair, will we make landfall before dark, I thought I had a chart for this area.
Wow, great the sea is calm nearly calm, I could jump in and do some FRC´s, but I just had 1 liter of porridge, what the heck, i´ll just do it, but there´s only 20 meter of continuous line, and it has never been straight so far, even just a light breeze pushes the boat enough to give the line 10 degrees.
So on this 5th day I just had the opportunity to do a couple of FRC´s and no goggle customization outside Bequia lighthouse. I hear the crackling of the reef at 20 meters. And today at the almost deserted island Monteserrat anchored over 7 meter sand, total empty lungs and 10 neg packs. Raised arms and push of from the sand bottom. Sun is setting got to check the anchor before the sudden darkness that just happens at 5.43 in this part of the world. Got to get some air blowing through that boat, even the nights are sweaty.
Left St Lucia to our right, stopped briefly at Martinique shopping food (best place until St Marteen). Sailed passed Dominica (no whales in sight), held my breath 5.43 in my bunk, skipped Guadalope passed its lights during a night sail. Tiredness can be felt as a pain in the body. And when approaching Monteserat the next day, the vulcano relieves a yellow foamy cloud of, well, what do vulcanos puke? Its a goast town ashore, the place is deserted, evacuated, the lava sweeped away half the houses in 1995, a police boat comes with men waiving there arms, get out.
And at last anchored at the end of the island. Ska music echoing from land and out to our anchorage, but we start of with system of down, moving on to Tracey Chapman. And if Bob only shot the sheriff, who shot the deputy?
I need to fix the inlet to the toilet and get that outboard going, but I need new sparkplugs. Probably not much diving tomorrow. Three random cans and rice makes dinner. Suntan goes from red to brown, but my ass is still white.
Tomorrow on to St Eustacius, my 60th country.
Sebastian
but you should post some photos of the boat here and of course of the highlights of adventure such a journey like that and I'm sure you will have many
