THE WINDS OF FATE
Does it matter where we would have been?
Three months ago now we turned STEADFAST’S bow north instead of south. For us, it was a dramatic and sad change of plan. The sadness eased as we sailed back into our comfortable, comforting life in Tilghman Island on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, where we have spent the last four summers among some of the best people I have known. We are at the bottom of a peninsula at the end of a dock on a dead-end road. It is seventeen miles to Annapolis via water and seventy-one miles via roads and bridges. No wonder we prefer the water.
When the over-anticipated, first-of-the-season hurricane formed in late June, it took a couple of days for me to realize that storm was not only rapidly gaining strength and breadth, she was tracking to exactly where we would have been.
We would have been spending the summer months just west of the red section, happily anchored out in some lovely harbor in the Grenadines eating (really) fresh seafood, just as Hurricane Beryl hit the southern Windward Islands as an only-slightly-less-threatening Category 4 on July 1 and then escalated to a Category5. We would have been warned, of course, and we would have been fine with time to prepare properly, monitor the situation and find protection or leave the area altogether. It’s more the concept of FATE, I think, than anything else. Even though we thought we’d rather be there, that wasn’t the best place to be, this time. This time, we were in a better place.
We planned to summer in the southernmost Caribbean because those islands are generally considered to be outside the ‘Major Hurricane Zone.’ We would have been statistically ‘safe.’ Hurricane Zones are utilized by insurance companies who draw lines and create rules and regulations; most policies include maps such as this one which tell you where you can and cannot have your boat during certain times of the year in order to keep your policy current and viable. We all draw lines somewhere, I suppose.
On average, a Major Hurricane (Category 3+) hits that region every 28.8 years versus the Northern Bahamas, for example, which experiences a Major Hurricane every eight years and a Hurricane every four. (Courtesy weather.NOAA.gov)
The idyllic beaches of Carriacou (governed by Grenada) are now littered with boats and debris, unrecognizable from the travel guide brochure photos of just last week. Our hearts go out to those people as we recently met survivors of 2019’s Hurricane Dorian, a stronger, slower and backtracking Category 5 storm that left behind unimaginable death and destruction in the Abacos (Northern Bahamas). A Category 5 Hurricane is one of the most destructive forces on the planet.
Please read my stories about loss during Dorian here: And here:
In addition to all the other ways we are constantly SPARRING WITH MOTHER NATURE on STEADFAST, we analyze the statistics. We assess the risk. We would have been one of the vessels in Beryl’s path. The damage seen is extensive and yet, as one cruiser stated, it looks mostly reparable and some boats truly did come through unscathed. The loss of resources, employment and shelter for the residents is far more impactful. Now, days later, the photos of the heartbreaking destruction are pouring out of the entire region.
THE WINDS OF FATE brought us north and on July 1 we were enjoying below-average temperatures and humidity, a lottery-winning day on the East Coast this time of year. Nothing short of glorious. Since the plan changed, does it matter where we had planned to be? No. The only thing that matters is what actually took place. And what took place when I realized that we would have been in the path of that powerful storm was simply a drop of the stomach and this written contemplation of what might have been. “Ah, the best laid plans….” We’ve all said it. Don’t plan on a plan. Improvise. Flex. Create. Move forward.
We returned here to ensure that my husband was healthy. Simple enough. A good reason. A great place to return to, if you have to and even if you don’t. There aren’t many boatyards in the world where we would be greeted with genuine affection and interest (some of that interest, granted, is due to our eccentricity, but that’s not always a bad thing…wink, wink). How many places in the world can you walk into and be greeted as such?
Care to COMMENT? PLEASE TELL ME ABOUT THE PLACES YOU LOVE TO WALK INTO.
The other favorite place I walked into was a beautiful old church. Looks of surprise (and reassuring hugs), greeted me that first Sunday; only our friends knew what our decision had to be. Everyone else had been told we weren’t coming back for years. Five years. We sold our van, gathered all the provisions we were scared to run out of, and stuffed everything else we owned, rather haphazardly, into a 10’ x 15’ storage unit half an hour inland. We sent our friends the combination and told them that, if we didn’t come back, they should be very careful when they opened the door; something would probably fall out, potentially something heavy. We also told them to check all the coat pockets before donating them to their choice of worthy causes.
We left in a well-planned rush, if there is such a thing, every bunk (all six of them) crammed with food, parts, flags, books, toys and tools that we might or might not need.
In this case, the region that Beryl destroyed was a stop in a journey that (potentially still will…just a year later…) lead us to SPAR WITH MOTHER NATURE all the way down the coast of South America. We want to. We hope to. We plan to. The bunks are still stuffed with those same things and this time, we will, perhaps, point the bow south until we see our first penguin. We’ve allocated half a decade to stop at every island and I’m absolutely certain that Mother Nature and THE WINDS OF FATE will take us from there.
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I really hope Steve can find a way to fully recover and that you both can smile as you put the pointy end south and sail off to continue your "dream odyssey."
I don't understand: hypothetically, you're in Cariacou and a major hurricane is 2 days to the East, heading your way. Why on Earth would you stay, 'preparing' for the storm? Get the Hell out of there! Head South to Grenada or Trinidad, or even the ABC islands. It's not like you're in a house, stuck before the storm. (I have extensive Caribbean experience, as well as 3 circumnavigations, 9 transAtlantics, and more. I have a little knowledge of which I speak). (I learned to sail in the Sea Scouts right across the Bay from where you are: West River, in Galesville)