Cruising Gone Wrong: Jess Lloyd-Mostyn’s Column

It was just one of those days for Jess and her family who suffered the perils of things going not quite to plan in their otherwise life of paradise…

Jess Lloyd-Mostyn’s Cruising Column

Sailing can be an absolute pleasure; sails billowing happily, a flat sea, sun glittering on the water.

Today is decidedly not one of those days – it’s the sort of day when cruising is just plain annoying. And, despite being aware of just what a sulky sort of statement that is, given our rare privilege to cruise worldwide full-time, I am not immune to that feeling when you simply seem to have got out on the wrong side of bed.

It started last night. Our sleep was disturbed by a nasty chop creeping steadily into the anchorage. It built more as the early dawn light began to seep in and we resigned ourselves to an early start, lurching from side to side in the galley in order to make a hasty breakfast and a quick departure. It is never good beginning a passage short of rest and foul-tempered. Plus, we had a long day-sail ahead of us to get to our next anchorage.

Then the wind wouldn’t cooperate; the beam reach that had been forecast was upwind instead, making our progress slow. Gusts of wind kept coming in from different angles, the autopilot wouldn’t hold and it was impossible to trim the sails correctly. The sky glowered at us, matching our moods, as squalls either side of us threatened to disturb the wind even further. We finally arrived at our destination, set the anchor, and put the boat to bed. Our kids were eager to get to the beach so we dutifully rowed ashore. Maybe things were looking up, we thought, as we pottered in the shallows and explored the caves at the edge of the sand.

Then, a sudden howl, one of the children inspects the sole of her foot now smothered with something brown and sticky: tar. It’s on her sister’s arm too, and also on her brother’s leg. We attempt to remove it as best we can, using the grit of the sand, but they are still streaked with thick gluey smears of the stuff. Everyone now moves to play at the other end of the beach but it’s not long before I notice little fingers scratching at their legs and soon, I too feel an uncomfortable itchiness at my ankles. There are sandflies on this beach; tiny, impossible to see or smack but unimaginably irritating to the skin. We are all immediately covered in angry red welts and the entire family lunges towards the dinghy and rows back to the safety of the boat.

Meanwhile, the fickle wind has switched things up yet again and, rowing back to our floating home, we can see that she is bucking and rocking like mad at her anchor chain. This bay has become untenable and James and I exchange stony glances confirming that we must sail on to another anchorage before the light fails. We scramble back on board, rubbing acetone-soaked cotton wool on the last of the tar smudges and slathering bite ointment to soothe the many bumps now covering the children. A new plan is hurriedly explained and we redo all the work necessary to get the boat moving again. 

We have exactly three hours of light left to get us 20 miles to the next harbour which will all be upwind; it’s a horrible choice between staying on at an impossible anchorage or slogging into the wind using the engine for the next few hours. Thankfully we get moving efficiently and manage to make it to the next port before the sun has even set. We weren’t planning to arrive for a couple of days so congratulate ourselves on being accidentally ahead of schedule. We resolve to recover the feel of the day and head ashore for dinner.

Yet, this is a clearance port and we need proper authorisation to set foot on land, given that the customs office overlooks the anchorage. We go in, paperwork in tar-stained hands, happy to have finished the unexpectedly long passage and be nestled in a smooth, bug-free anchorage at last.

“That’ll be two hundred dollars” the Customs official flatly informs me. Flustered, I stammer back, “But I thought that clearance was free?”. “Not on a weekend, lady” he says, jabbing a thumb at the calendar on the counter next to him. Of course, our two-day lead meant that we’d cleared at the wrong time. I am ready to weep from frustration as I emerge from the office.

“Another day in paradise, eh?” James teases as he kindly hands me a beer from the shop next door, clinking the bottle necks together “If only they knew”.

I mustn’t sulk, I tell myself. Yes, today cruising is annoying and my ankle still itches. But there is always tomorrow.

Show Me More:

• 37th America’s Cup: Key Info, Dates & How to Watch
• Boat Test: C-Cat 48
• Med Mooring Masterclass: How to Moor with Perfect Technique

The post Cruising Gone Wrong: Jess Lloyd-Mostyn’s Column appeared first on Sailing Today.