DOWN ISLAND - PART 2 B

NOTES ON ANCHORING

Anchoring is somewhat like sex. You really don't want other people watching you while you're doing it. However, how you anchor tells other boaters what kind of sailor you are.

First there is the “screamer.” He stands at the wheel and screams and yells at his crew on the bow. He does this because he doesn't have the slightest notion how to anchor. There is also the “reverse screamer,” who stands at the bow and yells at his crew at the wheel. Next there is the “do-it-yourselfer.” He doesn't let his crew do anything because he doesn't trust her, him, or them. He must have a history of running track, because he sprints up to the bow . . . then back to the wheel . . . up to the bow . . . back to the wheel.

And, of course, there is the Frenchman. He plows through the anchorage at five knots and drops his anchor. When the boat comes to the end of the anchor line it swings madly around, just missing the boat behind it. Then the captain and crew hop into the dingy and are away. You will notice that I said that his boat just misses the boat behind him. This is because there is always a boat just behind a Frenchman. If there is only one boat in a harbor a Frenchman will anchor just in front of it, allowing about six inches of swinging room between the two boats. Obviously the boat behind them is their anchor alarm.

One sailing couple we know was so impressed by the French way of anchoring they even bought a French anchor.

“They anchor so quickly,” he said. “I just had to have one of those anchors.”

“Have you noticed how many French boats drag their anchors all through the anchorage?” I asked.

He blushed and said, “Well, yes, that's why we still anchor the old way.”

Saturday we sailed for Norman Island with Nona Rosa, cruising friends the Steven sons we met in Annapolis. Norman Island is a nice little island where pirate treasure really was found some years ago. There are caves there near Treasure Point where you can snorkel. Most all the charters anchor in a bay named The Bight, but we elected to try to get away from the charterers by anchoring in Benures Bay.
This is a deep bay and one has to anchor in fifty feet of water; therefore, it is not one of the recommended charter anchorages. We dropped anchor in 48 feet of water so clear we could see the anchor on the bottom and watch it dig in. We put out 250 feet of chain and settled in for the night. Toward evening a charter boat came into the bay and dropped his anchor. He just let it go, tied off the end of the nylon line, and went swimming. It must be nice to have such faith in your anchor, I thought.

The night was calm with hardly a breeze blowing. There was so little wave action it felt as if we were at dockside. I got up at dawn, made some coffee and went up on deck. Looking around the bay, I noticed the charter boat had dragged her anchor clear to the other side of the bay.

Now how could that happen without wind or waves? I thought. Later that morning Jim from Nona Rosa came over. He had talked with the man on the charter boat and reported on their conversation.

“Hi there,” said Jim. “I see you've dragged anchor.”

“It looks that way,” said the charterer.

“It's hard to drag on a calm night,” said Jim. “How much line did you have out?”

“Oh, I put it all out,” he said. “There must have been at least 100 feet.”

There is a story going around about a conversation overheard on the VHF radio.

“Just Charters, Just Charters, this is Maribell.”

“Go ahead Maribell, this is Just Charters.”

“Could you bring us another anchor?”

“Why do you need another anchor? There were two of them on the boat when you left.”

“Well . . . we've anchored twice already, and will want to anchor tonight.”

I guess that cutting one's anchor line is easier than hauling it up, but . . .

We stayed at Trellis Bay, Tortola, BVI, for more than a week. After a great sea chanty fest with our cruising friends , we gathered our courage and departed the next afternoon for the overnight crossing of the Angola Passage to the French and Dutch island of St. Martin.