St. Marten Delivery Adventure

It’s just my luck that my flight got changed in San Juan and I had to meet the boats at a beach in St. Marten instead of a marina. Thank god I met Rob at the airport and told some one what happened. There I was on my first day with Sail Caribbean, seperated, and alone for who knew how long. But I had over an hour before the boats arrived so I decided to grab a drink at one of those picturesque, tropical bars and wait.

Sitting at the bar I thought how fortunate I was. I had the job I've always wanted, the chance of a lifetime, a dream come true. I was getting paid to teach sailing in the Caribbean and now on an overnight delivery. As my mind wondered over a tequila sunrise I realized that they should be pulling in soon. Rob said to look for two monohulls and a catamaran, find a VHF, and radio Sail Caribbean. I told myself it was the islands and there was bound to be a bar with a VHF I could use.

As the summer sun was setting, and the yellow glow reflected off the tranquil blue water in the midst of a warm breeze, I saw what I am assumed to be the delivery fleet entering the bay. OK, time to find a VHF. With my over-packed duffle bag, I started on my quest unaware of the adventure that awaited me. I asked at one place only to be directed to another. Unfortunately, this went on much longer than expected. After an hour of walking I began feeling that something wasn't right. I was at the right beach and those must be the boats, but there was not a VHF in sight. I began to worry about getting stuck on the island or mugged by a local. So in my naivety I made a desperate attempt to find a police station believing they would have a way to contact boats. Wrong again, the police station was closed.

My next plea was to try the shipwrecked sailor approach-- go to the beach, yell, and wave my arms. This sounded like a good solution; I can see the boats so they must be able to see me. But this accomplished nothing more than receiving awkward looks. Gradually my heart started racing and that desperate, nervous feeling pulled at my nerves. So with my pulse pounding I decided to check once more for a VHF. I went to the closest bar, asked some one new, and to my surprise they had one. I was initially exhilarated, by my excitement was to be short lived. The battery was dead! At this point I wanted to scream. Now standing silent and frantic near the waters edge, I decided I had to conquer this situation on my own. I had to swim.

I searched the beach for a secluded spot, stashed my bags, changed into a swim suit, and headed out. As I entered the still, dark water I was slightly apprehensive and insecure about my plan. “What if I go to the wrong boat? What if it they are not even here? What will they think?” Shunning these thoughts I swam hastily toward the only catamaran in the mooring field. As I approached I yelled, “Sail Caribbean?”, immediately followed by a confused and surprised, “Yeah.” My mind was finally at peace. Thank God I said silently in my head as I pondered what the rest of the summer would be like if this was the first day.