KIM IN THE CARIBBEAN CRUISE 2025 PART 1, NORTHWARD - BERYL AND THE HEDGE FUND MAN
- Paul Weston
- May 6
- 6 min read
On 29th December 2024, Kim left Prickly Bay, Grenada bound for Tortola, about 500 miles to the north north west. Kim could probably have knocked those 500 miles off in four days or less, especially if there was not too much North in the North East Trade Wind, but we intended to hop along the islands of the Lesser Antilles, keeping the sea passages short and spending time at anchor.
We had a schedule - my nephew, George, lives on Tortola, one of the British Virgin Islands, and our son Martin and his partner Larissa were to arrive there on 13th February. 500 miles in six weeks seemed reasonable. Our crew for the first part of the trip consisted of our daughter Cicely and her partner Ed, who had crewed Kim across the Atlantic.
The Lesser Antilles is divided into two groups – the Windward Islands from Grenada to Martinique, and the Leeward Islands from Martinique to the Virgins. Essentially rocks in the middle of the ocean, the islands’ climate is dominated by the Atlantic. The North East Trade Wind blows almost unceasingly year round, although its strength varies considerably, and it doesn’t always come from the north east. As the summer is unsuitable for yachting because of the possibility of hurricanes, the Caribbean sailing season runs from November to June – the dry season.
The islands, especially the larger and higher islands, have considerable wind shadows on their western sides, which often stretch miles out to sea. In former times ships on passage were advised either to stay well out to sea, in the Trade Wind, or to hug the coast, “within two pistol shots”, to take advantage of locally generated sea breezes. Trips between islands essentially involve two phases – coasting along the leeward side of the islands in the wind shadow, and what we refer to as “Crossings”, the passage across the channels between the islands. The Crossings involve several factors which must be accounted for. They are essentially bits of open Atlantic, and so there is nearly always some swell. There is often considerable current, and the steady north westerly progress of the Equatorial Current can be augmented by the tidal stream. Remember:
The tidal stream runs toward the moon
Moon rise, meridian passage and setting times can be easily looked up on the internet, and Caribbean Compass magazine publishes this and other useful information. The current can run at two or three knots, and always sets you downwind of your rhumb line course. The winds can be quite strong, and off the southern and northern extremities of the islands the wind can be amplified, and the seas confused.
We knew that the first part of the trip to Tortola was likely to be the most difficult, as the Windward Island chain trends toward the east, so an island hopping vessel is likely to be working to windward against the North East Trade. This was brought home to us as we headed north towards Carriacou, a small island about 15 miles north west of Grenada. The wind, when we emerged from the shadow of Grenada, was almost dead against us, and we had to motor, the navigation slightly complicated by the exclusion zone around the Kick em Jenny underwater volcano. Kim is not at her best motoring to windward – her faithful Yanmar is not very powerful, and the flat bottom forward sometimes slams unpleasantly. This wearying progress was rather compensated for by the magnificent views as we passed Diamond Island, and before long we were picking up a mooring in Tyrell Bay, Carriacou.
We knew, intellectually, that Carriacou and the islands north of it, Union and Canouan, had been hit by Hurricane Beryl in June 2024, but that had not prepared us for the reality of the devastation that we saw when we arrived. Tyrrel Bay is large and sheltered, and has numerous moorings for visiting yachts. Many of these were occupied by derelicts, yachts with broken masts and catamarans which had clearly been inverted. We knew that many yachts had tried to shelter from the hurricane in the mangroves, and many had been sunk or damaged, but the scale of the devastation was staggering. Ashore, there was worse. It appeared that almost every house had been damaged, often with roofs torn off. We had dinner at a seafront restaurant, the Lambi Queen, roofless but bravely open for business.
The devastation on Union Island, just to the north, which we visited next, was truly appalling. Every building had apparently lost its roof, and debris was everywhere. Reconstruction seemed to be very slow, and we left Union Island, on our cruise north with a feeling of depression, and unease that there appeared to be little help for the islanders from the British Government.
From Union we went north to the Tobago Cays, spending a couple of nights on a mooring. The windy weather made the Cays seem slightly bleak, but the snorkelling was good, and we enjoyed spending time on the beach.
I will now jump ahead a little bit, to the time of our return southwards from the Virgin Islands. We knew that the tiny island of Canouan had been badly hit by Beryl, and on our way north, we had not stopped there. On our way back south in March, however, we anchored there (next to the famous S&S designed maxi, Kialoa III), and went ashore. The place looked like a building site, the road was new, and the busy ferry dock seemed to have just been built. It was just after five o’clock, and large numbers of men were sitting in makeshift bars. They had the appearance of workmen relaxing after the day’s toil, and I recalled conversations I had had or overheard when we were in St Lucia – a man in the paint supplier asking how “Canouan” was pronounced, as he was going there to work, and a mechanic on the marina jetty saying goodbye to his friends before departing for Canouan. I worked in the North Sea in the 1970s, and I realised that what we saw was reminiscent of a boom town, with workers - migrant workers - relaxing in the bars rather than going home as a resident would. Not on the same scale as seventies Aberdeen, and the workers were West Indian rather than Texan, but there were similarities.
What was happening? So much immediacy, energy and equipment? Money seemed to be the answer, money from a wealthy Englishman, Ian Wace. Wace is a “hedge fund man” who owns a property on Canouan. I don’t know the whole story, but Wace seems to have become frustrated at the lack of reconstruction progress after Hurricane Beryl struck the Grenadines, and decided to do something about it himself. That “something” is, to an outside observer, impressive. He had a development in progress in the Western Isles of Scotland, and shipped the construction equipment from there to the West Indies on a specialist ship. The results of this activity were all around us, and they seemed very impressive.
We spent a night in Canouan, and went south to Union, anchoring in beautiful Chatham Bay. The destruction at Chatham was all too evident, the hotel and bars with their infrastructure gone and thousands of trees dead. We walked from Chatham Bay to clear customs in Union’s capital, Clifton, a trip of four miles or so. That the power lines had been downed was clearly shown by the coils of scrap aluminium cable by the side of the road, but their replacements were up and humming. Mangroves had been entirely stripped of their leaves, but some of the trees were coming back to life, new foliage emerging. We walked past the power plant, its diesels roaring, and went into Clifton. However depressing our visit four months previously had been, there was now a good deal of activity, and a seeming air of optimism. “Thanks to Mr Wace” as one resident said to us.
I have no idea how I would react to the complete destruction of my home. I suppose I would be cushioned to some extent by insurance, and sometimes this is the case in the West Indies, but we spoke to one woman, the owner of the improvised beach bar at Chatham Bay, Union, who had lost everything in the hurricane, sheltering under some concrete stairs as Beryl ripped her house apart above her, but who said she was grateful because a neighbour had lent her some clothes.
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