Mast collapse	The black sand	Overturned dock

The Navtex was fairly accurate, as the storm really hit, not at midnight, but around 2100 (9:00pm to you land lubbers) but was accurate in other respects. We watched the barometer drop steadily from 1015 millibars (mb) at 0900, 1007 mb at 1500, 1005 mb at 1700, and down to 990 mb by 2030. This probably was the low which was predicted to be 990 mb. The winds started working up about 1700 to a steady 20 knots, gusting to 35 knots, from the south. By 2030 the winds were a steady 35 to 45 knots with gusts over 50 knots. By 2100 the storm was in full force howling like a freight train or demented banshees, with winds from 45 to 60 plus knots. I say 60 plus as our wind speed indicator pegs at 60, and it was pegged much of the time. I heard from another boat that they clocked winds at 76 knots (140 km per hour, or 88 miles per hour).

We were secure and were able to watch the progress of the storm and its effects from our cockpit, enclosed by the dodger and bimini. Our stern faced onto a large camber with another pontoon about 70 metres astern, the far end of the camber 200 metres to our starboard and the near end about 90 metres to port. It was fascinating listening to the wind howling and the rigging vibrating and whistling. Then we heard flap, flap, flap, rapidly and thought it was a helicopter low overhead. No, it was a boat whose roller furled genoa was loose and pulled out the sail and tore it to pieces. Then another and another boat had similar problems. Our genoa was tightly furled and our main covered by a sail cover and lashings over it. We were prepared as well as we could be for this.

Then we noticed a catamaran coming into the camber. He surely wasn’t just arriving in the middle of this storm? No, he had broken away from the end of a dock when the finger pontoons let loose and the boat was adrift on the fractured pontoon. The poor guy had to just motor around the confines of the camber for over 90 minutes, Shortly after another even large catamaran was adrift and motoring around trying to keep its head into the 50 and 60 knots gusts, He was maneuvering in the camber for over two hours!. The first cat probably miscalculated or didn’t have enough power one time to come up into the winds and was blown down towards a beautiful large (55 foot) immaculate blue hulled ketch, scratching its side, and finally securing itself alongside him. We found out today that the million dollar ketch had just come from having a new paint job.

Meanwhile a low, red hulled rescue boat came into the camber to help some other boats being blown down because of the finger docks giving way. We then saw it towing a few sets of upside down finger docks over to the end wall. We watched somebody’s dinghy floating merrily upside down over to the far wall. Meanwhile the other large catamaran was still playing footsie with the 50 to 60 knot winds which would veer and change direction by 90 degrees, depending on the direction and influences of the gusts.

Watching the wind surging across the camber was like watching a time delay. We would see cats’ paws start across the water, then big ripples, flying spume, and see the boats on the opposite pontoon sway mostly in unison, heeling over away from the winds, then we would feel Veleda heel over and the howling as it hammered us with spray and dust. However, next day we saw two incidents whereby boat masts connected when heeling wildly. One pair of boats was still interlocked as the radio antenna and upper shrouds were entwined. Another smaller boat was dismasted by the adjacent larger boat when the smaller boat’s mast danced under the larger boat’s aft stay and was knocked down across the larger boat’s boom. We had to shield our eyes from the dust and sand being hurled relentlessly about. Judy put on goggles she uses for soldering to protect herself. Our hair still feels gritty from the dirt and sand. We have not been able to have a shower today as the portacabin for the men’s washroom was blown off its foundation and the plumbing was of course wrenched free. We have had no water on the pontoons all day today.

About 2300 the power went off for the whole city. It was eerie, seeing not only the bright spot and security lights of this major port go off, but all the downtown buildings were in total darkness. The power did not come on until early afternoon today, for the marina and parts of the city. By late afternoon, some stores were open, but most remained closed. Outdoor restaurants had their umbrellas destroyed. The smart ones closed up early last night and lashed everything down.

During the wind storm, the sky was mostly clear. We heard many times the urgent wails of emergency vehicles over the city and into the marina area. To our knowledge, no one was seriously hurt. We saw a few scratches on some and a mashed finger. One the docks where the finger pontoons gave way, the boats were badly scratched. On the windward side of the docks the pontoons gave way and swung over against each other in rapid succession like falling dominoes. Iolanthe, an American boat, was on the inward side of one of these collapses, and was badly scratched, much of her teak gunwales were torn away and her Monitor wind vane steering system badly bent. The leeward side of the dock was fine.

Just before midnight, there were several lulls in the gusts as the storm seemed to be decaying a bit. The large catamaran which had been circling in the camber for two hours seemed to be getting ready to try to come alongside at the end of our dock. I went down to see if I could help, and there were several other French men there helping take lines and secure them to bollards, and chains before the next gust came up to tear them off the wall. I took a couple of lines and used my flashlight to illuminate strong points on the dock, but not speaking French very well, I did not involve myself too much. After a while the large 50 foot cat was tethered like Gulliver being tied down by the Lilliputians. I am sure the poor skipper and his crew gave a big sigh of relief after such a long time under fantastic strain against the elements.

We were chatting with John, a Brit, on the boat beside us. We were tied together as there was only one stern line from us, and he had to secure to us to avoid being blown into the dock. We arranged our lines well, had fenders in place and watched in fascination the progress and toll of this Storm Delta. The strong winds ended shortly after midnight, but we have been deluged with intermittent rain for the pat 24 hours since.

This was a most unusual late season storm very seldom experienced over here. But we have heard the Caribbean is still quite warm (80 F) and may still spawn more late-season storms. However, the marina is delinquent in its poor maintenance and construction of the finger docks. I have pulled up two lazy lines that were so badly corroded that the chains broke from the main concrete anchors and bottom chains. That is why we and our neighbour have to share a single stern line. The aluminum pins holding the finger docks were not strong enough and the finger docks were not anchored to the bottom. This frankly is a poor and improperly maintained marina, even for the moderate price we have to pay (about 17.00 Euros a night). But it is the only game in town if one wishes to stay in Santa Cruz.

So today was a mopping up day. Many boats were damaged, but none sunk and no serious injuries. We are fine. Although we have not been in a tropical storm before, this was not the worst storm we have experienced. For us the most frightening was the storm in Milos in the fall of 2001, where we feared for our lives and for Veleda (Sprite was sunk and we had a line wrapped around our rudder). The worst winds we experienced were in a force 10 gale in a marina in Norway in the spring of 2000.

So I hope none of you were overly worried about us. Judy has already called her dad to let him know we are OK.

All the best,

Aubrey

Next log coming soon