That is not a Rock… it’s a Rock Lobstah!

Sunday May 21, 2023 North Sound --> Anegada (Kyle a.k.a. Winch Boy)

We awoke in our slip at the Bitter End Yacht Club following a stressful day of drinks on the beach, general relaxation, and Hobie racing. The night before, after the publication of Saturday’s blog, Ryan, Erika, and I took the dinghy to Saba Rock where there’s a restaurant and (more importantly) an excellent bar. So it’s safe to say we were feeling the ill effects of our day off this morning. We checked the weather and got the go-ahead for our sail to Anegada, which can be prohibited in the case of too much wind or waves. We pulled out of our slip by 9:20, and were on our way.

It was a single beam reach in 15-20 knot winds the whole way to Anegada, a prospect that excited the dedicated Winch Boy (me) following the mixture of smoked margaritas the night before and taxing gybes on the way out of North Sound. Between the strong winds, four-foot swells, and isolation of not yet being able to see low-lying Anegada while having nothing but open ocean to the East, this ranks highly amongst the coolest sails of the trip.

As Virgin Gorda shrunk behind us and the windswept trees of Anegada came into view, we did make one deviation to leave one of our passengers behind. No, unfortunately, it wasn’t Ryan. My Grandmom, Lisa’s mom Ruth passed away last year, and wished for her ashes to be returned to the coast of Honduras, where she spent many of the first 20 years of her life. She was always fond of travel, so it seemed fitting to give her one last journey. Midway along our sail, Ryan set a course for Honduras, and my Mom said a few words before Grandmom was released into the waters of the Caribbean. I’ll always remember her as the consummate carer, who knew exactly what was best for you and would tirelessly work to see it done.

Back on course to Anegada, we noticed a problem. With the motor lowered in the dinghy, and swells overtaking us from behind, our dinghy was rapidly filling with water. As much as I know my parents wanted to recreate a moment from their honeymoon trip here and set the dinghy free, it was decided that we needed to head into the wind, bring the dinghy alongside, lower my Dad into it with a bucket, and optionally pull him back up. A simple plan, executed with a Stooges-esque level of complexity. Eventually, after reluctantly furling the jib and turning on the motor to keep us pointed into the wind, and watching my Dad get tossed in the swells by a dinghy clearly exacting revenge for its forlorn ancestor so many years ago, we pulled Dad back aboard with the dinghy bailed and the motor raised, and continued our sail to Anegada.

Despite the diversions, we made good time and arrived by noon, and fixed lunch aboard while several squalls blew through. Anegada is a fascinating island, completely flat in contrast to the rest of the BVI, and surrounded entirely by sand bars and reefs with the exception of a single channel. On the way in and during lunch we spotted several turtles, although subsequent attempts to snorkel with them were unsuccessful. Following lunch we headed ashore. In order to traverse the island we rented a Tacoma which rode about as comfortably as a three-legged horse, and was given to us with a reminder to drive on the left. We stopped by a flamingo outlook where the flamingos were seemingly on strike, but it still had beautiful views of the shallow surroundings of the island. Then we went to the Cow Wreck beach, where you can get drinks while you watch waves break over the reef several hundred yards out. The rest of us did exactly that while Dad went for a walk down the sandy beach, and we continued to do that while several squalls blew through and Dad got thoroughly drenched. 

For dinner we called ahead and placed our orders at the Wonky Dog, a short dinghy ride away. Anegada is famous for its lobster, and that’s what we all ordered. None opted for the largest “Trench Beast” size, but the “Large” was still more than enough for Ryan. Over dinner we reminisced on how both my Grandma and Grandpa (my Dad’s Mom and Dad) would meticulously dissect the lobster and leave no meat on the shell, and in particular how any meal with my Grandpa was a four-hour affair, regardless of whether there was a lobster or not. Debbie, in particular, didn’t let her parents down in the dismantling of the remaining lobster.

The DJ at the Wonky Dog serenaded us initially with jazz, eventually disco, and finally EDM as we made our exit, doin' da Lobstah!

We look forward to a sail to Guana Island tomorrow, and I’m hoping to catch a glimpse of Birdshit Rock on the way.