Bequia Easter Regatta 2008 - Caribbean Compass

— Continued from previous page
The wind was only five knots, but northeast and a headwind. Paddling out from
the lee of the beach, I was lifted on large swells generated by a distant storm. I settled
in to my paddling — a hundred strokes while lying prone, a hundred on my knees
— and enjoyed the rhythm as my hands and arms felt the water.
I did not want to breathe diesel fumes, so I had asked my chase boat, a sturdy
catamaran, to stay 400 yards ahead of me. Aboard my escort vessel were two
friends who had watched me cross the 22-mile St. Lucia Channel in 2003, and the
26-mile St. Vincent Channel in 2004. Ulrich Meixner of DSL Yachting in St. Lucia
was again my sponsor and captain, and Ted Bull, a nautical Englishman living in
St. Lucia, was there to offer his soft-spoken encouragement. New faces were
Belgian: Danielle and Peter De Rouck. Our tribute to youth and beauty was crewmember
Teresa, a young English sailing instructor new to St. Lucia. It was a good
team. I hoped to do them proud by crossing the Guadeloupe Channel and tagging
land on Montserrat.
The moon and stars vanished under dark clouds. In total darkness, I felt disoriented
and nauseated. Lit by the glow of my light sticks, my face, reflected on my wet
board, said, “Sixty-two.” My chase boat allowed me to almost catch up and then
Left, right, left, right.… Paddling to Puerto Rico in 2006,
this shot shows Susan’s set-up
motored quickly into the distance. Windblown waves broke over me. I often fell off
my board, was rolled underwater, and had to climb back on. A fish jumped and collided
with my left ear. Though I didn’t use them for paddling, my calves cramped
into cannonballs.
Daybreak showed me that I was closer to Montserrat than I thought. Uli and Teresa
buzzed me in the dinghy to offer food and water at the end of a boat hook — a sanctioned
method of nourishing long-distance swimmers and paddlers. My leg cramps
eased. I was riding a northwest current and paddled at between three and four
knots, faster than usual. A forecast weather window had arrived to bring me ideal
paddling conditions. The wind dropped completely. My board slipped through the
smooth water. The rising sun painted the eruptive column above Montserrat and a
nearby cumulus cloud brilliant pink. I was more than halfway to Montserrat, and
still no wind. My crew enjoyed themselves. Captain Uli stopped the boat to let people
dive from the stern. Uli and Teresa surfed the swell in the dinghy. The big smooth
waves made paddling exciting. I clawed my way up blue hills of water to look down
on the mast of my boat. Then I glided into wave troughs like a surfer while my boat
hung up above me on a wave top. My paddling trip became an amusement park,
complete with childish shouts, “Wheeee!”
Six miles from the south tip of Montserrat, I turned into a seriously tired old lady.
Ironed smooth under the scorching sun, the sea began to look cold and lumpy. After
paddling for 24 calm miles, I was suddenly forced to sprint in a 12-knot northwest
headwind (an unusual wind for the Caribbean) and to fight three to four-foot wind
chop. Water sluiced over my head. A fast-moving eastbound current seized me like
a game fish taking bait. I was pulled east into the Atlantic Ocean. Montserrat had
been so close that I could smell volcanic sulfur and see stones in the cliffs; now the
island began to slip away westward. I couldn’t believe that I might not get there. Like
any competitor who doesn’t want to be beaten, I dug deep.
Everything that I wanted was on Montserrat. I pushed myself to the point of collapse.
What was it that I wanted so much to permit myself such agony?
Going in to touch Montserrat would be the hardest part of my challenge. To make
a “legal” point-to-point channel crossing, I’d have to tag the land on both ends of my
crossing. Much of the southeast and southwest coast of Montserrat, up to two miles
offshore, is in the Exclusion Zone (due to volcanic danger) and thus off limits to
mariners. But Shoe Rock where I planned to land is protected from dangerous ash
flow by the South Soufrière Hills. It would be hard to get in there. Two-meter waves
crashed against the steep rocks and tossed salt spray high in the air.
Uli and Teresa monitored me from the dinghy. When they saw a hiatus in the surf
they shouted, “Go!” I made it in to an eddy behind a boulder that was part of the
shore. When I heard the sharp crack of my board hitting solid stone on Montserrat
(it was 2:30PM; I’d been at sea for 12 hours), I knew what I was after. Not just a
moment of glory. I recalled the lessons of the day: Montserrat had reminded me of
what a privilege it is to glide through the ocean pulled by the broad blue spinnaker
of the sky.
I was reminded that in accomplishing something big, hope and despair go handin-hand.
The lovers on the beach in Deshaies told me that love is absolute power;
the people who think that absolute power corrupts are absolutely wrong. The fish
that hit me in the ear whispered, “You spend a lot of time with fishes. But don’t think
you’re one of us.” The dawn said that a pretty daybreak could start a peaceful day.
Or, as when Mt. Pelée in 1902 killed 30,000 people on Martinique, it can herald a
lethal eruption. For me, the rosy dawn brought the chance to be first to cross the
30-mile Guadeloupe Channel on a paddleboard. Success was sweet, but I realized
that at any time my luck could have turned sour.
My strong support team was responsible for my good luck.
BENITO PINTO
True Blue Bay Marina
Resort & Villas
Dock, moor or set anchor at True Blue Bay located in the south
coast of Grenada and enjoy our full service marina and
fabulous accommodation. Caribbean cocktails and delicious
dishes are a must at our waterside Dodgy Dock Lounge Bar and
True Blue Restaurant. Located five minutes walk from Spice
Island Marine Services and five minutes drive from the airport.
Aquanauts Dive Center
Indigo Car Rentals & Horizon Yacht Charters
VHF Channel 16
473 443 8783
mail@truebluebay.com
www.truebluebay.com
APRIL 2008 CARIBBEAN COMPASS PAGE 31