We had heard that strong northerly winds in December wreak havoc on otherwise calm anchorages, but we had never experienced this first hand. Last season we didn’t leave our safe harbor until February and saw normal trade-winds most our way south. We saw that these ‘Christmas winds’ were in the forecast, so the first chance we got, we booked it from Nevis to Deshaies, Guadeloupe. We planned to ride out the strong winds in a well-protected anchorage while munching on baguettes and sipping espresso.
Our twelve-hour passage was more or less uneventful. We were able to sail the first 20 miles, but when the wind direction shifted, we found ourselves motor sailing the remaining 50. On our way, we passed by Monserrat. In 1997 the Soufriere Hills volcano erupted, leading to the evacuation (and later the destruction) of the capital city of Plymouth and the southern part of the island. We could easily see the lava flows on the island as we passed by. We plan to return later in the season to get a closer look at the destruction and ruins.
We arrived in Deshaies around 3:00pm on December 16th and had to anchor in the back of the already full anchorage. We instantly fell in love with the charming, quiet town. On the east side of town, there’s a nice river where we walked and swam with the dogs. Every day we visited the bakery that was steps from the dinghy dock to pick up a fresh baguette. We also stocked up on wine, spices, and cheese. We were happy to be back in the French Caribbean.
The following day the winds started to pick up and it howled through the anchorage. The forecast was correct and the Christmas winds were upon us. We made sure everything was strapped down tight and set anchor alarms that would alert us if we started dragging. It was difficult to sleep at first because we were worried about the conditions. But after several hours of strong winds, we became convinced that Kairos wasn’t budging and we drifted off to sleep.
As the sun was rising, a loud thud caused me to jump out of bed from a deep sleep. There would be no need for coffee today, my heart was beating out of my chest. I quickly peered out the v-berth hatch and even though my eyes were still adjusting and my vision was blurry, it was obvious that a boat had crashed into us. Rob and I grabbed whatever articles of clothing we could and scurried upstairs. The captain of the 36 foot Beneteau that had dragged into us was already in the cockpit with the motor on, fighting the wind that was pushing his boat into us. He, however, didn’t have the chance to grab any clothing on his way up and was navigating the situation in his birthday suit.
The boat was moving erratically from side to side in front of us as we stood on our bow holding onto fenders in case they came too close again. As they were trying to pull their anchor up, our chain became taught and it became clear that they were stuck on our chain. They tried to free themselves, but eventually gave up, let out their rode and drifted behind us with their anchor still holding on our chain. Eventually the rode and anchor became untangled and the Beneteau was able to move and re-anchor. Fortunately, the crash didn’t cause any damage to our boat. It only loosened our anchor platform and we were able to tighten it after twisting ourselves into pretzels to reach the nuts. During the entire ordeal, our Mantus anchor didn’t budge. We are so happy that we invested in a quality anchor and chain prior to setting sail.
The next two days were also utter chaos. The winds continued to howl and for the first time our wind generator was consistently out performing our solar panels. At one point a power boat broke free of a mooring and there was a lot of chatter in the anchorage as other boats rushed to its rescue. Our new neighbor’s dinghy was attached to their stern and flipped, submerging the motor upside down underwater. We watched as our friend Ben on s/v Wanderlust rescued and towed in a couple that was being washed out to sea when their dinghy motor stalled and the wind was much too strong for them to paddle against. Everywhere we looked the strong winds were wreaking havoc. We managed to lose a metal dog food bowl and two fenders. We didn’t feel comfortable leaving the boat unattended for long periods, so we only went to shore to walk the pups.
After three days cooped up on the boat, we needed to stretch our legs. We rented a car and drove to La Soufriere with our friends on s/v Wanderlust. At 4,813 feet, La Soufriere is the tallest peak in the Lesser Antilles and we were going to hike to the top. We immediately realized that we weren’t properly dressed. It was already a good 15 degrees cooler at the trailhead than it had been in the anchorage. As we hiked we passed people wearing winter coast and pants. We of course were dressed in our normal cruising attire—t-shirts and shorts.
Up, up into the clouds we hiked. You don’t hike La Soufriere for the views. The higher we climbed the less we could see. We were in a cloud and the white mist that surrounded us made the path appear extra eerie. Green and red moss covered the rock walls on both sides of the trail and we could tell we were getting close to the top when the wind picked up, chilling us to the bone. We were suddenly reminded what it feels like to be cold.
By the time we reached the top, we couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of us. The fog was so thick. We quickly snapped a few victory photos and took shelter in an old observation hut. It was a dark and dreary place for lunch, but we were just happy to be sheltered from the winds.
After warming up and devouring our baguette sandwiches, we once again braced the cold and started quickly descending the mountain. There was a prize waiting for us at the base of the volcano—a naturally warm swimming pool. The freshwater soak was nice and none of us wanted to leave the pool. We knew once we stepped out that we would be freezing again. But we eventually made a run for it, changing quickly into dry clothes and then blasting the heat in the rental car (probably something that doesn’t get used frequently).
Now that the Christmas winds had passed, it was time to head south to explore more of the butterfly island.
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