Hurricane Ivan
Saturday, September 5, 2004
Tropical storm Ivan has been upgraded to Hurricane Ivan this morning.
The past few days have seen a lot of talk and concern about the hurricane on its way. It is tracking west and its very low at the moment. This is this largest hurricane in recorded history this low -its now a category 3 hurricane. All the models are predicting it to hit St Lucia/St Vincent on Tuesday Midday. But it may head lower and come our way. We are all praying that it doesn't come any further south. Some boats are making a run for Trinidad to get further south. But there's nothing to say that it doesn't stay south and it may hit Trinidad. The holding and shelter there is not as good as Grenada. We are watching the weather closely. WE have just moved to a hurricane hole in Old Harbour on the south coast of Grenada. We have tied up the boat next to Ocean Breezes with three anchors down and tied the boat back into the mangrove trees to try to reduce any dragging at all. There are about 20-30 other boats around us at the moment - I suspect its going to get manic tomorrow.
The centre of the hurricane has 155 mph winds within a 25-mile radius, 50 knots of wind at a 50-mile radius and 35 knots of wind at a 100-mile radius. All predictions suggest that we are in for 50 knots+. If this thing hits us it’s not going to be fun.
We've been in those sorts of winds for 30 minutes in the Mediterranean in Ibiza during a thunderstorm squall and it was not nice.
The news of the Hurricane coming was all everybody could talk about. The predictions from NOAA based historical data and water temps and the position of ITCZ suggested that IVAN would swing north before it got to us and would smack through Martinique. As the 3-hour forecasts continued these predictions started heading further south until they got as far south as Bequia a few hours before it arrived. The forecasters never actually admitted that it would hit Grenada.
A few days beforehand, most boats decided to make a run for Trinidad, some to Venezuela. We decided to tie up in the hurricane hole and hope that it passed north as predicted. We reckoned with storm force winds we'd be ok.
So we didn't go to the regular Sunday afternoon BBQ on Hog Island and instead headed off to Old Harbour, the next safe hurricane hole east of Egmont Bay. The entrance was trickier than the preferred Egmont hurricane hole, but all the local boats where rumoured to tie up their boats with bits of string, so we headed to Old harbour instead (12'01"N 61'42.63"W).
Getting in was easy. We passed between the 2 reefs at the entrance and made our way in. It was surrounded from all sides by land with mangroves all around to tie into. When we arrived with Ocean Breezes we discovered there were maybe 10 boats already in. We looked around and tied up against the mangroves on the eastern side half way up for the Sunday night, deciding to sort the boats out seriously the following day.
Ivan was due to come close Tuesday morning.
Chris and I did the rounds on the boats and picked up valuable advice from the old timers about how best to tie up. We also discovered that “Horizon Yacht Charters” were to tie up 17 charter boats "the best he could”. Our worry was that these were going to break free and drag on to us. He started mooring these boats next to us. The following morning we moved our boats away.
"Liquorice" the cat has developed a disgusting bout of diarrhoea and has starting to squirt all over the place. We have put the cat litter tray in the kids’ shower so we can hose the place down and the cat as well.
The following morning we were all up to get the boat ready for the impending storm. We moved the boat to the mangroves to the north of all the boats with just one boat, "Jubilee", to the north of us. We laid out the tandem anchors (Bruce and Brittany) on 30 meters of chain. We would have liked more, but trusted the chain more than the rope. I put a 20mm bridle on the chain then laid a second 25 Kg Danforth anchor to the north of the boat at a 45° angle with, 15 meters of chain and 50 Meters of Rope. We then tied the aft back into the mangroves with ropes on the North side to the bow, mid and stern cleats the on the south side to the bow and stern cleats. (I ripped my pants). Finally Ocean Breezes and Dolphins shared a combination of ropes all the way across the water to the mangroves on the other side.
Getting into the mangroves was a very difficult thing to do. Lisa on Ocean Breezes jumped in the water near the root of the mangroves the night before and sliced her foot right across down to the bone on the shells that attach to the underwater roots. She was out of action for the preparation, as she could not stand on it. You had to ram the dinghy right in past the over hanging branches and then, monkey like, with rope in teeth, swing in holding onto branches and balancing on the thin roots that bend over like multiple arches intertwined. Getting the ropes to the trunks was like being in some sort of krypton factor physical challenge dreamt up by some twisted game show producer.
Next we started to get the boat ready; The fore sail came off. The wind generator came away. The bimini came off and the window covers came off. I tied the table flaps down, lashed the Mainsail, took down the SSB aerial, and lashed all the loose ropes down. I lashed the boom down twice and stuffed my old underpants around any chaffing points on the ropes. We all helped and finally managed to squeeze the collapsed sailing dinghy inside the boat. Anything that could move was either taken off or lashed down. It took us the whole day to prepare the boat and tie it up. Finally OCEAN BREEZES laid a 200m anchor right across to the other side of the bay, and as it was so long that the anchor almost reached the mangroves the other side we decided to tie the anchor into mangroves. We then ran a rolling hitch forward onto this line to act as a third anchor line for us. We believe it was this line that saved us.
Helen in the meantime had been scouring the 2-mile radius of the bay looking for a safe house for us all to stay in. She found a couple of local houses but was unsure of their roofs. Then eventually found Rusty's Apartments, an apartment block with 1 and 2 bedroom units, about 10 in all. There was one left that was a 2-bedroom apartment on the first floor. The only problem being that the inside went straight up to the pitched roof. The whole roof looked very strong, being tied into the concrete walls though. Opposite, on the other side of the road was a Texaco Garage and a bar with a house attached to it. The bar and house was soon to be ripped apart.
Now the hurricane was reported at travelling at 25knots in our direction and was 250 miles away. It was time to get off the boat. Storm force winds extended 160 miles out from the centre which gave us about 4 hours before serious winds would come. It was 7pm the night before. Helen and Lisa decided to take the families from Ocean Breezes and Dolphins up to the apartment while Chris and I continued to check the weather forecasts on VHF on the boat and finish lashing the boats up further. Yacht Corilla with 10-year-old Sadie aboard wanted to abandon their boat at this time too, so they joined Helen and Lisa.
Chris and I stayed on board our boats, finishing off and having the odd catnap hoping that each forecast was going to take the hurricane north of us. By 2am with just 12 hours to go it was clear that the hurricane was coming straight for us, with forecasted winds of 115 knots gusting 130 knots. We decided that storm force winds could be here anytime and that it was pushing it to stay aboard the boat for the 5am forecast.
We decided to leave poor liquorice the cat on board. The thought of having a cat with a dripping bottom in the apartment with three families wasn't on, so I put towels all over the cushions, filled the shower around the cat litter with 1/2 inch of water to try to keep her paws clean. I put down food and plenty of water and said goodbye.
Getting to the dinghy dock was a problem; do we take the dinghy and leave it to be trashed or swim. We hoisted our dinghies, planning to swim, lashed them best we could and then I suddenly thought of the kids’ toy dinghy. I blew it up and Chris and I knelt in it like a couple of over grown children and paddled a hundred yards over to the small wooden jetty at the north of the bay. We walked the 1/2-mile up the dirt track, with the toy dinghy under our arms, past local houses and arrived at the apartment to find the kids asleep and the adults huddling around the weather channel trying to discover the path of Ivan. America was so caught up in the aftermath of Hurricane Francis on Florida that Ivan updates were limited to brief glimpses of about 15 seconds every 30 minutes or so.
The morning came and there was nothing to suggest a Hurricane was coming. We slept best we could catching about 2 hours sleep. We awoke to a bright sunny still morning. As we watched the TV, as Ivan got closer, we found that it was heading straight for us. We then discovered that the water had been turned off the previous day and that the apartment water tank was running low. We started to fill all saucepans with water and started to fill the bath with water so we could have something to flush the toilet with. As Ivan approached we expected the worse for our boats.
We stocked up with food at the little shop next to the Garage, Helen brought flour amongst other things, and she spent most of the time cooking bread. We ate well with tins of corn beef and ham, pasta and rice as well as cereal and milk. We even had a crate of beer to drink when it passed over.
As midday came and the skies started to cloud over, the odd squall came through bringing a downpour. You would not think anything was about to happen; the weather seemed just normal. The atmosphere inside was getting apprehensive and as the winds started to gently build Helen decided that it was not good to stay in the first floor apartment. We all agreed.
We moved down to Rogers apartment on the ground floor. He was from the catamaran next to Ocean Breezes and had rented a 2-bedroom apartment just in case any cruisers needed somewhere to stay. We all piled in and stood next to the window watching in anticipation as the winds steadily rose. It was now 2.30 pm and Ivan the terrible had arrived.
The following “blog” updates were sent via the mobile phone from the apartment just before all contact was lost:
Ivan 0600 local time
starting 2 cloud over. No wind yet. Sparse mild squalls. Watching weather ch. 3 boat families 7 kids here. On 1st floor. French family below.
Sms from mobile phone
Started. inches of rain in one hour. Its now coming. Looks like a direct hit. Water off, bath filled. Elec soon to go off. Kids ok.
Sms from mobile phone
incredibley calm and still. Eye is going to be right on us at 1400. Just waiting. Helen making bread. Dont know what to xpect
Sms from mobile phone
Raining heavy. No wind yet. Sitting on balcony waiting for the smack down. Got crate of beer ready for after party
Sms from mobile phone
Three families from Dolphins, Ocean Breezes and Corilla were all huddled with Roger in his downstairs 2-bedroom apartment. We had escaped from our 1st floor apartment that we did not trust in the event of the roof being ripped off. We also didn't like the big plate glass skylight window on one wall 10 feet up above the main living area. The children were calm, Emma was the most upset as our cat, Liquorice had to stay on board due to its severe diarrhoea.
Ivan arrived at 2.30 pm, local time, on September 7th 2004. It was the largest hurricane to ever hit Grenada in recorded history. At about 1:30pm, all power went off which instantly disabled all forms of communication. Our mobile phone, which had been working up until then, went off with no signal. All water had been switched off the day before. We, along with the rest of the Island was now without running water, electricity or phones.
We picked out our "lucky" palm tree. It was a lone tree sitting on top of the hill in front of us some 500 meters away. We vowed that if this tree survived, our boats would survive. It was made up superstition but I guess man needs hope in these situations.
As the winds rose during the hour leading up to Ivan arriving we watched in horror at what the wind was doing to our "outside-the-window" world. First it started to blow the trees, moving branches and then leaves started to blow in the air. Then twigs started breaking off. An old oil drum noisily rolled down the road coming to a stop at a parked car outside the bar. All movement by cars and people had now ceased. Everyone was inside whatever his or her shelter happened to be. The winds were picking up from the north and were blowing across our window down the road. We seemed quite safe. We all gathered around the window watching the storm turn to a hurricane.
The light was fading due to the overcast sky becoming thicker and thicker. We lit candles around the kitchen and various adults started making meals; sandwiches and crisps, meat and fruit. It was actually quite exciting, like being a child and going on your first ever kids only camping expedition. But outside it was another sort of exciting. Darkness and the increasing winds were fuelling us all with anticipation of what was going to happen. We were all in good spirits. We were in handheld-VHF communication with the boats in Old Harbour where single-handers and cruisers without children were staying onboard kindly giving us reports on the state of our boats.
The winds had risen to about 60, gusting 80 knots now. the aluminium corrugated roof panels of the bar over the road, were starting to lift up and smack down again. The wind continued to rise bit by bit. Soon small branches were cascading down the road, and then a lone plastic chair, with its 2 back legs broken, slid down the road silently, drowned out by the constant roar of the wind. Next came roof panels blowing through the air from other houses up wind of us. Then the roof panels from the bar started peeling off like paper and blowing in the wind. One flew straight off and wrapped itself around a tree, another sliced straight into a tree and imbedded itself like a knife. Then the whole roof of the bar with its wooden joists lifted up in one solid piece and slammed back down releasing its gutters into the air to be lost in the wind.
In the last half an hour before the eye of the hurricane, at around 4pm the winds became violent beyond belief. The trees opposite were ravaged. All the leaves just disintegrated from the branches that were all being pulled horizontally by the 115+ knot winds. Debris was flying in the air, luckily heading across our window with bars on it, down the road. It was obvious houses up wind of us were being destroyed with roofing panels and wooden debris flying at speeds of about 30 mph. The bar’s roof was being pulled hard by the wind and most panels had gone, but the house attached was standing up well. This house had 23 people sheltering in it.
I called on the VHF to the mono hull yacht "Inti", An Australian called Rob was aboard, he was anchored into the mangroves opposite our boats.
"Inti, Inti, Inti, this is Dolphins Mobile"
"Dolphins Mobile, Inti"
"Inti, what's it like down there, over"
"Dolphins Mobile, Its obviously windy. Visibility is reduced. There is a 4 foot surge of tide in the bay with a 1 foot wave chop. There is lots of debris flying down into the bay. I can not go out on deck for fear of being hit, its bad here, bad ! over"
"Inti, How is your boat holding up, Can you give us any update on how the boats in the bay are holding up, and specifically how our boats are doing, over"
"Dolphins, Inti is holding well, there is a bunch of catamarans spinning around in the middle of the bay that have broken loose from the mangroves and are dragging their anchors. They are heading to the south of the bay. Over"
We thought the worst.
"Inti, which catamarans are they, how are our boats, over"
"Dolphins, I believe the Cats are all tied together, they are Horizon Yacht charter boats, they are loose and we are fearing they will smash other boats while they are loose. Your boats are careering around a lot. They seem to be tied into the mangroves but it looks like the anchors on the white Catamaran opposite have dragged and it is being hit by the broadside winds and is weaving around madly. Over"
The white catamaran was either Dolphins or Rogers boat. We confirmed on the radio with Inti that it was Dolphins. Helen and I went into desperation for the boat. We thought at any time it would break free and head off with the charter catamarans to their doom. Roger's boat, Ocean Breezes and Corilla all seemed to be reported to be fine, holding on.
"Inti, Thanks for the up date, good luck, Dolphins Out."
Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!
The wind outside the window started to cease, and within 10 minutes the wind had become calm. The branches lay limp. The locals opposite started to spill out onto the road waving their hands in the air and shouting in a sort of shocked but excited holiday spirit sort of way. I ventured out onto the road and looked up and down. There were big trees all over the road, telegraph poles down and electricity pylons strewn over the road. Wires lay across the road strewn with roofing sheets, planks of wood, branches and other loose debris. I wasn't sure if they knew that it wasn't over that this was just the eye. It was eerily calm. It felt like any other overcast day, quite bright in fact, I even saw a patch of blue sky up there. If it weren’t for the devastation all around, no one would think anything had happened. Our lucky tree was still upright so far.
To think, we were in the eye of a hurricane! We all thought and spoke that this was one hell of a rare event to be in. Thank goodness that we are in an apartment rather than on our boat, let alone being out at sea. We all had about 10 minutes of being outside taking a look up and down the road. Then there was a breath of wind from the South, from the opposite direction. I ushered everyone inside and within the next 5 minutes the winds rose dramatically fast to well over 115 knots.
Of course, all the debris that had been blown south in the rampaging Northerly winds was now all loose and free to blow back again. This is exactly what happened. Almost like putting a film into reverse we saw everything come flying back the other way, but this time it was more concentrated, more vicious, more deadly. The winds seemed to be higher than before by maybe 20 knots. We never saw the plastic chair come back, but now the weakened structures in front of us got the full blast. More roofing panels came ripping off.
We saw the corner of the roof of the house attached to the bar, slowly lift up. It was a solid roof, joists and all. The whole roof calmly lifted up and down, more and more, bit by bit, being lifted like a huge giant sneaking a peak into a secret box, gaining confidence with each lift. Then suddenly as if the giant had spotted the Jackpot treasure inside, it came ripping off in one piece and flew up into the air. Once it became vertical in the air it then literarily disintegrated into pieces in front of our eyes.
There was a wooden house, just a one room wooden shack. It was next door to us and we couldn't see it through the window. But with a sudden explosion of noise and pieces of wood, it all came flying towards us within an instant. We all jumped back away from the window as it tumbled past us up the road in its doom.
Then again like in reverse the winds started to calm down. Things kept still until just leaves and twigs blew in the wind. Our Lucky tree was still standing. We called Inti, and he confirmed that our boats were still there, but at one stage the loose Charter fleet was heading straight towards our end of the bay when a 25 degree wind shift headed them up the NW river entrance onto the shallows of the sand banks and the unused mangroves. He reported that one boat was swinging on a lone anchor and was possibly bumping into Corilla.
Our boats were where they should be according to Inti. But did not know what damage had been caused.
The skippers could not hold back. We decided to run the Gauntlet and head up the road to the top of the headland were we could look down on our boats and check for our selves that indeed our boats were ok. The wind out side was probably 50 knots. It was not raining. Chris, Jeff and I headed up the road like a bunch of SAS guys heading out on some sort of reconnaissance mission. We were jumping over electricity wire, fallen poles and scattered debris. When we got the to the single-track road that ran up the headland we were faced with felled trees every 10 feet or so. We Climbed over, under and around the trees and made it up onto the headland. The wind that was blowing right onto the headland was probably 70 knots now we were not sheltered. We struggled to look into the wind but managed to take peaks behind walls at our boats and managed to confirm that they were where they should be.
We headed back to the apartment for a beer.
As we returned, the house opposite spewed forth its very frightened occupants. The 2 elderly bar owners whose house became roof less, who, as it happened went through the last hurricane here in 1955, were invited over into Rogers apartment. The rest who were the staff of the bar ran up the road to seek shelter either at friends’ houses or the local school, which was the hurricane shelter. An elderly man, a member of staff of the owners decided to stay in the basement of the house, as he had nowhere to go.
It started to get dark and as it did so the winds carried on at storm force, but now with torrential rain. Within an hour there was a knock at the door and the old man talked to the owners of the bar and I heard his story that he almost drowned as the basement filled up with water. He arrived with a plastic bag with one bottle of water in it. The owners didn't want him in the apartment. I heard Mr Owner defending himself over the near-drowning of the old man. I felt there was some sort of unspoken hierarchy that was going on, or maybe they just didn't get on. I took the guy around to the man who owned the block of apartments, Rusty. He took him in begrudgingly and I went back downstairs. We had some food cooked up by the Ladies, and took everybody back up to the apartment on the first floor to put the kids to bed. We did not fear the wind anymore. Ivan had gone. It was now just a torrential rain-storm beating down on the roof.
I gave the kids some emergency chemical light sticks, and they enjoyed a story read to them all by Lisa in the low light. We had a few beers and a drop of rum and all fell asleep where we could; Sophie asleep with her friend Sadie in the hallway on sofa cushions. The OB's in one double bed and the adult Corilla's on the remaining sofa cushions in the Main apartment living area. Helen and the remaining kids piled into the other double bed and I slept in the kids’ rubber dinghy, which was surprisingly comfortable. The wind and rained howled through out the night smashing down on the roof while the broken mechanical wind operated extractor fan in the bathroom banged and clanged.
As we awoke at first light everything stopped. The wind and the rain finished and we all ventured out side to look around.
At 6 o'clock in the morning, the day after, 16 hours after it had first shown itself, Ivan had left leaving the weather as calm as before hand, but leaving a sight for our eyes that no one was really prepared for. The trees were stripped of leaves; the leaves were everywhere, like a premature green autumn. The trees that were left standing were bare, ravaged by the winds. There were fallen trees everywhere, all across the road blocking the way. Telegraph and electricity poles were down, the wires draped casually across the road.
The torn countryside, as far as the eye could see, was liberally scattered with debris like the morning after some massive music festival or Street Party. Roof panels, wood, branches cardboard, paper and clothes, people's possessions and homes deposited everywhere. The houses all around in the hills were still there but most were roof-less. Some had their windows blown through, the wooden houses wiped away. The lack of tree foliage had suddenly uncovered the landscape to show the once hidden houses. The destruction to these people’s lives suddenly became apparent, that morning, by lifting the blanket and showing us just how many weak houses were out there, with families living normal lives. Those lives were now in turmoil.
Our lucky palm tree was still there that morning, standing tall, a little leaner in the palm leaves department, but looking good. In fact most palm trees were over, snapped or uprooted or palm leaves missing. The Skippers of Dolphins, Ocean Breezes and Corilla headed off to see the boats. The sight of the lucky palm tree and the news on the VHF the previous night meant that we couldn't wait any longer to see our precious homes. We set off on the walk back to the boats.
It was daylight, just after 6am, and already people were out on the roads, some were clearly in shock, and some were working to get the roads clear. In the distance, chain saws were starting to buzz in the morning still. We helped remove the remnants of the wooden one room house that had exploded all over the road. There were sacks of empty beer bottles, planks of wood and clothes on the road; we helped clear it back onto the verge. All though I wanted to help with the clear up, to do what I could, I actually felt like I was imposing. I felt them looking as if they didn't want or need outsiders help, maybe it was their pride, their embarrassment, I don't know, but we decided to focus on getting back to the boats and start helping our own community of yachts.
The rest of the families stayed and fed the kids breakfast, toast and jam. Everyone was keen to get back on the boats, but until we had sorted out dinghies, and cleared the boats of all the deck gear that was shoved inside, it was to be no place for kids.
We walked down the road, with the kids blown up dinghy over our heads and into the lane towards the dinghy dock where Jeff from Corilla had left his dinghy tied up. We were sure his dinghy was to be trashed or gone. The Lane was covered in fallen trees and yet again we found ourselves climbing under and over the trees to get through. At the end of the lane the pass was so blocked that we had to launch the kids dinghy at the waters edge and Chris and Jeff paddled themselves around to the dinghy dock while I fought my way across the trees to meet them.
Amazingly, the Corilla dinghy had survived. It was full of water, but in one piece and the engine started first time. Our trip to the boats was eerie, still and calm, people who stayed on board where surfacing from their slumber, reviewing the turmoil.
We arrived at our boat, Dolphins. The first thing to notice as we approached was the bark less branches of mangroves to the back of the boat and a big brown stain on the transom of one of the hulls. Clearly there had been some intense chaffing going on between branches and boat. We were either pushed further back into the mangroves or the Mangroves had fallen over and were closer on to us. I suspect a bit of both. Then there were the leaves. They were everywhere, all over the boat. I checked the boat for damage. The boarding ladder had been ripped off and was nowhere to be seen, the dinghy throttle handle had been snapped off, and looking up, the electronic mast head wind indicator tail had snapped of. The wheel turned which seemed to suggest the rudders were good and working. All in all things looked good. The five ropes tying us into the Mangroves were still there, but they were slack and drooping sadly. The 2 anchors (1 with a tandem anchors) were all still attached but also very slack. We were still tied to the joint 100m ropes stretching to the other side of the anchorage into the mangroves. By the look of it, it was this rope that saved or skin. Liquorice was fine and thankfully had limited its toilet problems to the downstairs shower room.
Ocean Breezes fared quite well. The same indicator at the masthead had broken, but worse, there was a branch impaled around its inner starboard stay, and the force of impact had exploded the bolts attaching it to the chain plate causing it to hang free. When Chris tried to reattach the stay, it had clearly stretched. There was some force in the impact of that branch! Corilla was next and unfortunately they came out a little worse. They had kept their bimini on as it had bolted-on solar panels. The bimini frame was ripped from the deck and bent up badly. A solar panel had shattered and the whole bimini was collapsed. Their 6 inch thick stainless radar pole was bent over at a 30 degree angle. But our problems were nothing compared to the carnage we were to witness later.
We went back to the apartment to collect the others to get the boat back to normal. Locals were already clearing the lane with chain saws and machetes. They helped the kids over the trees and were very civil and kind. We then set to work on the boat to put our life back together again only 1 week on from putting it together from our return from the UK; Tidying up, unlashing, stowing and un-stowing stuff, hoisting sails and the difficult job of untangling or un-sewing all our ropes from the mangroves and our chains and anchors from each other.
Scrambling through the mangroves was twice as bad after the hurricane than before. They had been smashed and ripped and twisted onto themselves. As we hauled the ropes out I noticed Ocean Breezes' antifoul paint from the bottom of their boat only 6 feet from our boat along our ropes, and our antifoul paint on their ropes the same. We were moored some 50 or 60 feet away and the thought of how much these boats must have moved towards each other was frightening. If we were anchored closer then we would have surely smashed into each other. Finally, after retrieving one anchor, I let the boat swing on its last and then hoisted that. It had caught on someone else's chain and it took me half an hour to free it with help from the other boats.
Damage to boats in Old Harbour was limited to the charter boats, which were never tied up well enough, and a few private boats. Our Hurricane hole came out pretty well compared to the rest.
We knew that we were not going to be able to get any food in the shops. There was fallen fruit everywhere; Avocados, Papaya, Passion fruit, Breadfruit, oranges, Plantains and chilli peppers. Helen and Priscilla from Corilla had filled all the bags they could and had stored them at the apartment. Helen then took her camera and went off for a walk to photograph the area. She brought the bags of fallen fruit back to the boat, almost too heavy for her to carry back. She split the fruit into three and gave the shares to Ocean Breezes and Corilla.
The following morning the regular VHF cruisers net started up again. This time it was to be used to get information on the status of other boats. Within a few days a list of all the boats in all harbours and bays was compiled. Our harbour had fared the best. Egmont, which was considered the safest Hurricane hole, had 50% of their boats sunk or grounded. Mount Hartman too had 50% of its boats sunk or grounded on rocks, beach or mangroves. Hog Island was the same. Martins Marina in Mount Hartman had boats sink in their berths and boats had broken free and then returned in the opposite way to came back and crush other boats lying in their berth. Prickly bay was also badly hit. The Hard standing where some 400 boats were propped up with just a few feet between them were knocked over like dominoes. We visited this Place by bus later and it was like a boat scrap yard. Boats were lying on their side some with Mast and rigging damage others with hull damage. The catamarans on the hard did best, as they did not have to sit up on stilts like the mono hulls. The hoisting crane had boats toppled onto it and the thought of trying to organise trying to get the boats back up right and into the water, when it was unsure whether some would float or not, seemed an impossible task.
Our taxi-bus trip inland on the day after the hurricane was incredible. As we travelled from old harbour to Prickly bay we witnessed the houses and lives inland that had been shattered. As we raced past valley after valley, there were houses after houses with no roofs on, debris everywhere. But yet, everybody was out working. The men were clearing roads and trying to arrange debris around their houses, while the women were laying all their clothes and belongs all over the place to dry out. Your eyes were just fed a scene of stuff everywhere, hurricane debris and peoples belongs strewn about the place. As we entered the trade district to get to prickly bay we were already seeing people bustling around the frozen food store where people where handing stuff out. We were stopped by an armed military roadblock that told our driver off, as there was a curfew on. We said we had to go see a boat in prickly Bay and he let us through. The kids were interested in the damage but in some way not shocked by it all. Emma mentioned that maybe having a tin roof and having few possessions meant that you just had to dry them and put a new roof on your house and things are back to normal, I think she maybe right.
When we returned to the boat, the VHF net was reporting things from the land. Food and water was becoming scarce and Looting had started in the main towns. We decided to get out of Old Harbour and head to where most boats were congregating for safety, Mount Hartman Bay. A security watch was being set up and the safety in numbers attitude was comforting. We moved our boat around with Ocean Breezes and Corilla and carried on getting our boat back to normal.
There were about 50 boats at anchor when we arrived and about 25 scattered on reefs, rocks, beaches and mangroves. Sadly our Friends boat, "Restless Farewell" was up on the beach with a huge catamaran pointing at its side, gel coat scraped off and one of its portholes pushed open. There was seawater inside. There were boats on the reef and on the rocks that we knew as well. These boats that had once had families or individuals on, with plans to travel the world, have had their plans scuppered well and truly. Some with no insurance, their whole life was shattered. We spent some time trying to help winch boats off but with no luck. Some people were still living on their cracked boats. One steel boat that has been a permanent feature in the anchorage and a permanent home for a family in Mount Hartman Bay for the past 2 years, was now a permanent feature on the outer reef perched high and dry.
We have been trying to get our life back to normal as well as trying to help other people and boats worse off, trying to make the food we had go as far as possible. We had a few tins of food but what we needed most was flour. We managed to beg 2 bags from other cruisers from the dock. Aid was starting to arrive from local Trinidad from other boats who had escaped a few days ago and from larger boats bringing crates of food and water. People were being kind and bringing what they thought was needed; water, food and diesel. Our good friends on Zingano arrived. We had been with them in Malta way back and they stormed up from Trinidad bringing what they could and making water with their zillion gallon and hour water maker. But they soon discovered that Mount Hartman bay had a decent yachting community operating and were surviving well. They soon organised all the aid they could to be dispersed to the yachts around in the main city of St Georges. Here only 2 or 3 boats of the hundred in the harbour survived, most being piled against each other on the south of the harbour. The occupants had to sit on their boats afraid to leave them for fear of the locals literally stepping onto their boats to loot them. It was here that yacht-aid was needed most. Water and food was brought to them. Aid for the locals were coming - but our community had its own needs and support chains. It was incredible to see the solidarity of the yachting community.
But then we could see ourselves soon to become the problem. We only had food for a few days. With kids to feed, the time and effort we could spend on helping others was out weighed by the time and effort we needed to support our selves and it would not be fair to take food aid from others just to keep us in Grenada. We decided to move out to Venezuela as soon as possible.
Word came through from our friend, Mike on "Restless Farewell" he said for us to take all the food and water and diesel from the boat and "do as we see fit with it". So we took the food that we needed and distributed the rest to the yacht network. We then took all the bedding and towels and distributed it to the local hospital that was in need of material for bandages and the like. We so hoped that Mike would come up trumps with his insurance company because he was being such a saint with his attitude to his personal possessions from his boat. It was only a matter of time before his boat would render itself to the elements of the sea and the local looting that was starting to increase. His attitude in the face of the despair that we were seeing was a lift for us.
The extra food allowed us to stay another 2 days that was needed to wait for the southwest winds to change direction to allow us to leave. We waited until it fared better to the southeast and we checked out on the Thursday night with a very unorganised customs/immigration section in prickly bay and set off at 6pm that night for a night sail to Los Testigos in Venezuela.
There was so much that happened in the week following the disaster. I couldn’t even start to comprehend what the local families went through. There lives were destroyed, they struggled to get the basics of life such as food and water, the country took maybe a week before the government was able to function and start to assemble a plan of restoring order. It would take time and effort but Grenada will recover.
The Yachting community on the fringe of such a disaster, with the backup of other yachts in neighbouring countries were able to pull together and support each other straight away. Their homes had all that was necessary to survive; water makers, power generation, food storage and communications. As long as your boat is intact, life can go on. Losing your boat, your home must be one of the worse things that can happen. We were so lucky.
We left the country of Grenada at night looking back at the few lights glimmering from the few generators that could provide electricity to the lucky few on the Island. We arrived 3 months previously looking at its ideal life with people lucky to be "outside the hurricane belt". But Ivan has now shattered this life. I'm sure the lives will be rebuilt, the homes will be rebuilt and the country rebuilt, but to us this beautiful country has been smashed to pieces by an incredible force of nature that can only remind us, humbly, that we are so insignificant in this powerful world.
