Our return to Trinidad was postponed until 10 January 2004 to accommodate family responsibilities. However, from all accounts we hadn’t missed too much as the weather had been most unseasonable with strong easterly winds over Christmas. On arrival at the boatyard it was bizarre to see our AC still purring away after 10 months absence and a pleasure to find the boat as dry as a bone. Commissioning took two weeks hard work, but fortunately Chaguaramas has all the skills on hand and at half their UK cost.
Jan and I decided to fly the 140% genoa with the main for our overnight sail to Grenada. With the benefit of hindsight a working jib would have been more practical as the wind backed into the northeast with fierce rain squalls. 100 miles later Jan and I checked into Prickly Bay immigration office feeling quite bone-rattled but cobweb-relieved. The south coast of Grenada is a veritable mecca for yachties with its abundance of sheltered bays and anchorages. Our favourite is St David’s in the southeast, with its burgeoning boatyard and newly-opened hotel perched on the loch side.
Our season was to be a hectic one as we had two sets of friends joining us for a fortnight each. The first couple were meeting us in Bequia on 10 February, so after a couple of weeks getting to know Grenada we were off to Carriacou, blasting through Kick’em Jenny with impunity under main and genoa in an east-northeast force 5. We decided not to trouble their officials and weighed anchor at first light for another fine reach past Union Island and on to Admiralty Bay.
Don and Helen arrived on time at the Gingerbread Hotel after a harrowing journey from winter-gripped Wales. The Grenadines are a perfect cruising ground for visitors, as one is free from officialdom and can make short day-sails between myriad tropical islands with silverwhite beaches. Some, including Mustique, Canouan, Palm Island and Petit St Vincent, even offer a touch of evening culture. In addition there are the hideaways of Saltwhistle Bay, Chatham Bay and of course the jewels in the crown, the Tobago Cays. The weather was unusually unsettled and our visitors were astounded at the wind strength, which at force 6–7 provided invigorating sailing.
Following their departure we had just a month before the next party. We sailed for Wallilabou Bay, St Vincent but felt forced to leave under threat from the boat-boys. We sailed in the late afternoon for a more northerly anchorage where we, together with two other yachts, were made to feel equally uncomfortable, so the decision was made to sail through the night for Rodney Bay, St Lucia.
In our opinion St Lucia ranks only slightly above St Vincent from the security aspect, so we lost no time in heading for Martinique. We spent a week luxuriating in the Gallic experience before departing for Dominica in an easterly force 7 with heavy seas rolling in from the Atlantic. Song of the Sea relishes these conditions and had soon covered the 60 miles to Prince Rupert Bay. Unlike some Caribbean ports the boat-boys here are well mannered and helpful. Not only do they look after your boat and help with provisioning, but also arrange tours to the hinterland of this magical island, a veritable Garden of Eden.
Next stop was Iles des Saintes of Admiral Rodney fame. Many liken it to Brittany and I can certainly share their view. Although a little quirky it has charm, style and good French cuisine. The best time to go ashore is after the ferries have relieved you of the last day-tripper from Guadeloupe. The yachts were snubbing on the anchors from a prolonged period of strong Atlantic easterlies, and although the holding is good it made us edgy especially when ashore.
We left in an easterly force 7 for the southwest corner of Guadeloupe and continued up the coast for Deshaies, a sheltered inlet but prone to severe katabatic winds bowling down steep mountainsides. The bonus is a non-tourist venue geared up for the yachties with good restaurants. Like Bequia it is a cruisers’ crossroads and we were not overly surprised to meet up with our Manx neighbours, Tricia and Mike Whipp, OCC, in their 70ft aero-carbon rigged sloop Wild Rover.
With our month of solace seeming to run out faster than a March hare, we weighed anchor for Jolly Harbour, Antigua some 45 miles north in an easterly force 6 gusting 7. We had taken to leaving the genoa furled and setting a hard-wind jib on the mobile cutter stay with a reefed main – a good and preferable option to a degraded, half-rolled genoa.
Harold and Vivienne met us on the marina pontoon full of Northern Irish good cheer. Despite blocking the toilet, dropping the walky-talky overboard, flooding the forecastle by leaving the skylight ajar and falling overboard we had a wonderful fortnight of hard sailing in strong weather and dining ashore with best wines, food and company. Where does one find this? English Harbour, Deshaies and Iles des Saintes, of course.

All too soon they were gone and we had laid up Song of the Sea in Jolly Harbour for a return to the Isle of Man and attendance to duties. The six weeks passed without incidents and on 10 May we were re-launching, fitting a new generator and unexpectedly replacing some of our rigging, in preparation for our passage to the Azores. The weather was extraordinarily unseasonable, with Antigua suffering its wettest May on record. Low pressure had become stuck in the Eastern Caribbean and it became apparent that we would have to sail away from it or risk being delayed into the hurricane season.
After two days of gales and high seas, during which we sailed at maximum hull speed with severely reduced canvas, the weather settled down. We had shipped Andy and Willie out from the UK to help with the watches, we boys doing four hour watches during the day with Jan doing the cooking, and each taking a three hour watch at night. Quite civilised really.

The low pressure systems were tracking across the Atlantic at low latitudes, which enabled us to sail a shallow great circle course and cross the 30th parallel at 50°W, which reduced our passage to Horta to 2250 miles. It was all downwind sailing, and our high-clewed twin jibs flown in conjunction with the main once again proved to be the perfect ocean rig. I call it the ‘simbo rig’ (see article on Simbo Rig).

The passage took 13 days and 13 hours, and on arrival in Horta the boys left for home. Jan and I made the most of trudging around Faial and Pico in the rain as depression after depression piled into the Azores and more and more yachts arrived out of the Atlantic.

Jane joined us from the UK for a fortnight’s holiday, but after a week we were still in harbour. After countless visits to the internet café for weather forecasts we finally slipped our lines – with eight days to make Falmouth or Jane would be looking for another job. It wasn’t exactly the best start when our autopilot failed, but fortunately we carried a spare and were able to beat the ‘little people’ on this occasion.

Our passage proved a good one and we achieved our objective in 7 days and 7 hours. Our greatest excitement was being overhauled by 55 knots of wind up the chuffer with full main and twin jibs set. Song of the Sea flew like an arrow without a murmur, sending twin plumes of spray cascading into the air down either side while the GPS recorded 15.5 knots over ground. Spectacular! After 15 minutes of this the subsequent 40 knots seemed so placid that Song of the Sea was put back on autopilot.
Falmouth is a great town, full of good coffee shops and restaurants, but after a couple of days we were obliged to sail on to Plymouth as the Mayflower Marina was the only safe haven available to leave the boat for a visit home. On our return we made a good decision to backtrack on ourselves and enjoyed five glorious, sun-baked days in the Scilly Isles. A very special place.

After this the English summer broke down, with a continuous succession of deep Atlantic depressions as we limped from port to port up the English Channel and around to Harwich. By early September we thought we had a weather window for our passage to Sweden but, alas, after weaving through the gas rigs and 150 miles into the voyage we were alerted by another deep Atlantic depression unexpectedly dropping into the North Sea. We allowed discretion to become the better part of valour and made for Den Helder, Holland where we sat out severe gales for two days. Typically, this gave way to blue skies but no wind, leaving us with a warm sunny motor-sail across the North Sea, around Denmark and up into Henan on the Isle of Orust, Song of the Sea’s birthport.