Sailing: The Brown Boobies of St. Lucia
On our final night in St. Lucia, after our eight-day sailing adventure was over, the three of us played Rose and Thorn. You know that game, the one where you say something great about an event, which is the “rose,” something not great about the event, the “thorn,” and then the “bud,” something to look forward to the next time.
The trip started eight days before at 2:45 a.m. which is when my alarm sounded, gently jolting me awake to board a 5 a.m. flight. Eighteen hours later, we arrived in Rodney Bay, St. Lucia, at the meeting place for yacht charters. I had a fever and a terrible bladder infection. It was 81 degrees and humid and I was in no mood.
I like sailing, I do. I sail a little 18’ Ideal in Tampa Bay every now and then and I’ve sailed in the British Virgin Islands and Balearic Sea and Antigua on a 63’ luxury sailing yacht. It’s empowering to sail; to get the sails right and harness the wind and seas to propel you towards adventure. It’s thrilling. I most enjoy being propelled by said wind and sea for no more than four days at a time, though, and with the help of a captain, a chef, and a steward. This trip would be twice as long and we bare boated, meaning we were the crew.
This trip would be three of us; my husband, our dear friend who is an experienced sailor, and me, and it occurred the week of our 22nd wedding anniversary and Thanksgiving; just weeks before a very busy holiday season. Timing wasn’t great.
The next morning was blazing hot and thick with humidity. Thankfully, I found a doctor who prescribed antibiotics and I could carry out my first mate duties.
Provisioning for a week at sea is a bit challenging when access to quality groceries is limited. I’ve had enough trips to know what works – canned tuna, pasta, frozen shrimp, garbanzo bean salad. Lots of water, tonic, gin and coffee. From home I bring spices, nuts, breakfast bars and my creamer packets. Necessities.
After a few hours in the marina, preparing for the voyage, we set sail out into the stunning Caribbean Sea.
Skimming the coast of St. Lucia, I was struck by how gorgeous and lush it is. Its verdant hills are products of tectonic activity, and the volcanic soil creates dense emerald-green flora. We sailed south towards the Pitons, the triangular lava domes which practically serve as St. Lucia’s logos.
It was there, while tied to a mooring ball, cooking dinner aboard and drinking lukewarm Piton beer, that the boat’s air conditioning went on strike. And, yes, sailing is about God’s natural elements and harnessing the breeze, but when the boat’s staterooms and salon reach temperatures of 85 degrees, you appreciate that God made air conditioning, too.
After a few hours with tools and flashlights and calls to the charter company mechanics, the guys got the A/C working again.
We spent two days and nights moored at the base of the Pitons. We spent the days making dinghy trips to shore for exercise, a few meals and, for me, a glorious massage at the Sugar Beach resort spa. We enjoyed sunset cocktails at Ladera Resort then a cacao-based dinner at Rabot Hotel. It was a nice break from onboard meals.
The day we sailed north to Rodney Bay, we encountered a few squalls that led to some rough seas. As the passenger, not the primary sailors, I had few tasks. I had to help batten down the hatches, catch sunglasses, phones, and water bottles and they slid hither and to around the cockpit. Every now and then I helped reef the sail or switch ropes while tacking. It was exhilarating and drenching.
Once the storm passed, I perched myself on a wet bench seat with my headphones on and there and then, I had the very best moment on the trip. It wasn’t just a rose, it was a dozen of them in the form of Brown Boobies.
Brown boobies are blue-billed seabirds who playfully dance in the wind alongside sailboats, occasionally diving for fish or even catching them midair. Our boat was escorted by at least a dozen of them, all on the port side, the same side I was sitting on. They swooped and swooned up and down, dancing with our sails, playing in the wind. In my headphones, the Flower Duet from the opera Lakmé played, providing the perfect soundtrack for four mesmerizing minutes. Four minutes I’ll remember for a lifetime.
“Under the thick dome where the white jasmine
With the roses entwined together
On the riverbank covered with flowers laughing in the morning
Let us descend together!
Gently floating on its charming risings,
On the river’s current
On the shining waves,
One hand reaches,
Reaches for the bank,
Where the spring sleeps,
And the bird, the bird sings.
Under the thick dome where the white jasmine
Ah! calling us
Together!”
The rain had long passed but my face was wet. Tears streamed down my face, so moved was I by this beautifully timed fusion of nature and art.
The song ended and I sat quietly soaking it in. There’s no other sound that could have followed those perfect moments. I said a silent prayer thanking God for this beautiful world He created for us.
The birds eventually fell off escort duty and our journey ended back to where it started, in Rodney Bay.
Over red wine and spaghetti bolognese, we sat at a small table in the marina. With just a trace of mal de débarquement, we started our game.
I went first in “roses, thorns, and buds” and shared my Brown Booby experience, tears streaming down my sunburned cheeks. “Well, I can’t follow that,” my friend said, and we sat in silence.
This is why I love being on the water. It isn’t always easy or comfortable and I’m definitely not yet a capable sailor, but you can have these transformative moments that, for me, are spiritual salves in rough seas.