Escape from Paradise
Jay flew out on March 18th after so ably sailing with me from Montego Bay to George Town, Grand Cayman. He took one of the last flights before the airport shut down. All of the Caribbean was shutting down because of coronavirus. Borders were closing fast. My new crew could not fly in. I was alone on the boat.
In those first several days, I had free rein of the island. La Peregrina rested comfortably, tied to a mooring ball just off George Town. I visited the grocery store, the hardware store, the laundromat . . . even a couple bars. But soon things started tightening up. Everything except grocery stores, pharmacies, and banks were ordered to close. The supermarket reduced hours and limited the number of customers inside. But it was safe — there were almost no coronavirus cases on the island. The cruising community stuck together, helping each other out. The weather was delightful. So it wasn’t such a bad place to be stuck. I was stranded in Paradise.
In any case, there was no point in getting upset about it. All nearby countries had closed their borders also. I couldn’t sail back to the U.S., I reasoned: It was too far, and I was too old, too weak, and too cowardly. So I would just wait until things opened back up.
But things got worse. After ten days, the islands were on “24-hour curfew.” Even the grocery stores and pharmacies were closed most days. I had to hail George Town Harbour Patrol on the VHF and request permission to leave my boat, and even then it was no more than once a day, and for no more than 90 minutes. I cancelled the remainder of my Spring 2020 sailing schedule and refunded deposits. Things were getting less fun. The straw that broke the camel’s back was this headline in the local newspaper:
Uh oh. I mean, I like it here and all. But . . .
My wife (the first mate) was 1000 miles away. I was stuck a long way away, and apparently, for a long time. I had to rethink whether or not I could sail La Peregrina back to the U.S. by myself. I watched the weather forecasts closely. I studied the charts. I completed every project on the boat. I thought through all sorts of scenarios. I realized I could do it. I had to do it. It was about 500 nautical miles to Key West. I had never before made a solo passage of any significance. But I’m a conservative sailor. I had a good plan. The weather forecast had nothing scary in it. There were places to stop in Cuba if I needed them. I could likely be back in Florida in six days. Saturday, the 4th of April looked like a good departure date.
I resolved to make a daily video log of my passage, which I’ve edited down to this youtube video. It’s too long, and has way too much weird old man in it, but it tells the story.