Chased by Emily.

Arriving at Bequia, the northernmost of the Grenadines, on the afternoon of Tuesday July 12^th 2005, I immediately went ashore to clear customs into St Vincent and the Grenadines. Before returning aboard I purchased a prepaid time card for my cell phone. We had just sailed directly from Martinique, where we had provisioned, and were on our way to greet four guests at Union Island for a week long cruise. Back on the boat I connect to the Internet through my cell phone to read e-mail and check the weather forecast. Hell! A tropical depression just born in the Atlantic is heading directly towards Bequia. Worse it is forecast to become a tropical storm within a few hours and mature into a hurricane before reaching here.

On the VHF radio I call Daffodil the diesel supply boat. The tank is almost empty and we will need to motor because the wind very light, less than 10 knots. The decision is to leave immediately that much is certain. We hoist the dinghy back on board, raise anchor and go back to sea in a hurry.

But where do we go? The charter fleet skippers have heard my radio exchange with Daffodil when I had to explain a hurricane was coming to get him to deliver fuel now and not to-morrow, so all of them are now underway with the Switch catamarans leading the way towards Grenada. In my mind safety will be found in Venezuela. We peg 247 on the compass, heading directly for Los Testigos and Margarita. The Testigos islands are 149 nautical miles away and Margarita 50 miles further. We should take 30 hours motoring without any help from the sails since the wind is dead astern and slower than us. At 2500 rpm we are moving at 6 to 7 knots depending on the current.

At sea but not too far out, again via my cell phone, I connect to the net to get a last complete weather forecast. I calculate we should have, worst scenario, at least a 15 hour lead on the hurricane, now named Emily.

Our route takes us early that night, some 30 miles in the lee of Grenada. At this point doubt sets in. Should I really pursue heading towards the open ocean, alone for the next 24 hours? Or should I, like all the other professional skippers, head for the “safety” of the shores of Grenada? If we remain in the West Indies it might still be possible to greet our charter guests on the 16^th. That is if, all goes well and Emily abides by the predictions. The total Moorings fleet is now harboured at Canouan while the others head for Grenada. We are alone at sea. No one is visible, not a single navigation light, be it from a ship, a fishing boat or a yacht.

This storm is much too similar to Yvan. Returning upwind during six to eight hours in the direction of Grenada would bring me closer to the bad weather and could put me directly in Emily’s path, especially if she is kin to Yvan who was so good at eluding forecasters. I persist, Venezuela. We are the only boat on the sea that very black night heading for the Testigos. Tense? Oh yeah!

To brighten up the situation the auto pilot decides to take a vacation. We must steer manually from now on. Isabelle, my crew, has little if any experience at the helm and cannot steer a reasonable heading in the dark, in fact we are now going in circles. I must steer all night. I ca no longer check our navigation our get weather information from the short wave radio.

Around 5 AM on July 13, I wake Isabelle. It is not full daylight but the sky is bright enough for her to steer a reasonable course. She takes the wheel and I concentrate on the SSB radio. We receive November Mike November (NMN) the US Coast Guard weather voice. Horror! Through the screeching audio I understand they are forecasting Emily’s arrival over the West Indies this morning. The storm is moving west at 17 knots and could be only 4 hours behind us, while we are still 8 hours from Los Testigos and the relative safety of land. Worse she has become adult and is now a hurricane. The forecast conditions for our part of the Caribbean are given in full detail. They are chilling my blood with apocalyptic sea conditions.

Useless listening to any more, you don’t have much chance of surviving a hurricane in a small boat on the open sea. My legs weaken; my heart gallops, my thinking reaches warp speed. This is not possible! Emily is moving west at 17 knots and I allowed for 20 knots in my calculations. The storm was supposed to head West North West but is fooling all forecast models, and like Yvan keeps a course of 270 degrees, heading straight for us, the worst case scenario. Even so, we should have a 15 hour lead. What happened?

Between 5:30 and 8:30AM I listen to all the ham radios in the region that give the storm’s position. The short wave propagation conditions are such that I cannot make out the longitude, only once the latitude and it is 11.5 degrees north or exactly our latitude. At 8:30 Chris Parker, the weatherman who offers private weather guidance for yachts from his post in the British Virgin Islands, goes on air but once again I cannot decipher Emily’s last position. At the end of his broadcast Chris says he will accept queries from non affiliated boats. I squeeze the “press to talk”.

- Chris I am 5 hrs north east of Los Testigos and could be at Margarita by 7 PM tonight. What do you suggest?

- Couldn’t make out the name and can hardly hear you. I would go for Margarita. It is farther west and farther south and you should not experience hurricane strength winds there. You might get tropical storm winds at worst. If I were you I would continue. You will have plenty of time to anchor and prepare for high winds; the storm will not arrive at Margarita before to-morrow morning.

Phew! Colors return, life goes on a little further.

With more than 20 hours of steering in the shoulders, fatigue should knock me out but to the contrary Isa and I are filled with joy on this beautiful afternoon of July 13^th.

While below checking our navigation I hear a loud crack! Rushing back up to the cockpit I see that the starboard fishing line is gone. There is only a bit of shock cord hanging limp. Gone are teaser, lure and 150 feet of 200 pound test line. That’s not all; the stern navigation light is broken. That is what made the noise. Ok I will not say a big one got away but... As a consolation prize, we will later bring in a small three-foot tuna from the other line.

At 7 PM we turn to starboard and enter the Bahia la Mar at Porlamar on Margarita with a most extraordinary sunset. Isabelle has forgotten all about the hurricane and is contemplating with an open mouth. “Wow! Can you see? Look at this!” The sky is flame red at the horizon where the sun just dipped in the sea to become orange and yellow towards the south, turquoise overhead then all shades of blue finally darkening to indigo at our back.

We anchor as night falls with 20 feet of clear water over white sand, on two anchors well set, at good distance from all other yachts. It is too late to ready the boat for a hurricane by removing all that can be removed. I do not believe we will see 60 knot winds here. Rather tired, I have slept only an hour in the past 35 hours, I retire early. My sleep is light. We are expecting Emily. Around 2 in the morning I awake to thunder. A Hollywood storm, Technicolor and wide screen passes north. It is enough to give shivers even at 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Thinking this to be the beginning of the hurricane I stay up as long as I can. Nothing. Back to sleep.

Morning comes and still nothing. At 7 during a daily amateur radio program from Montreal, Emily’s position is given as 12.6 norths 062.5 west, we are now at 10.9 north and 063.7 west Emily will go by us in a few hours, far enough north, to not be noticed. All we saw was a long swell, not very big, and cloudy skies, no rain.

Ah life is beautiful! Hey what about that tuna? After two days of fasting and all the excitement I have quite an appetite!

On this afternoon of the 14^th of July, Bastille Day in France and Isabelle is French; we raise both anchors and motor in to moor closer to land and meet with all our friends who are returning from hiding. Chris Parker on his web site www.caribwx.com declares this is the first time in recorded weather that a hurricane has passed this far south this early in the season. It was at least on month in advance of all statistics. Well it caused me quite a scare and with the cancelled cruise we are left with food for an army. Anyone for a party?

Oh yes, Emily passed right on top of Grenada and the fleet that had taken refuge there.

Beware of storms called Emily.