Woodwind, at left, with the other ducks.

For the past few weeks we’ve been “makin’ a list and checkin it twice.” It’s a litany of odd bits and pieces, things we’ll need to cart from Washington State to the Caribbean, stuff for the boat that’s hard to get there. Sails, tools, art brushes, clothes, repair and replacements parts for all things BOAT are now in a box. I topped it off with a new pair of flip flops for good measure, just in case I blow one out.

We were feeling the thrill of accomplishment when a friend called to say, “There’s a hurricane in the Caribbean!”

“No problem,” we replied. “It’s already west of our boat. And besides, all the old-timer West Indians told us that the area wouldn’t have storms this year because the water was unusually cold last winter.” Up until that moment, they‘d been right. All of the storms, A to N, had formed north or west of the Leeward and Windward Islands. They hadn’t been licked by one.

The next morning I happened to catch a snippet of news that mentioned “HURRICANE… CARIBBEAN… VIRGIN ISLANDS.” A quick search on the computer brought up information that Hurricane Omar, a category 1 storm, was heading to Virgin Gorda where our boat, Woodwind, has been basking in the summer sun. This crazy storm was not following the rules of the road. It was moving northeast, getting bigger each hour and moving fast.

We thought about fretting and worrying but after having lived through a hurricane at sea, we knew our little boat could battle one out on shore. She was tucked in the Virgin Gorda Boatyard surrounded by a couple hundred neighbors, each just a few feet from the next. If one fell over, it wouldn’t go far. Everything on Woodwind was stowed or lashed down. Just like at sea, we’d done all we could do. Mother Nature would write the rest of the story.

Throughout that day we watched reports as Omar gained strength and crept closer to our target. Forecasters predicted a direct hit with the US and British Virgins. Omar was a category 3 storm moving northeast at 30 knots.

Visions of toothpicks danced in our heads that night. The “what if’s” kept us awake. But as we attempted sleep, the storm jogged east and only grazed the Virgin Islands with 50 knot winds. Some trees had come down, mud had slid, but thankfully, no one was injured. Our little Woody in that boatyard, with all those ducks in a row, made it through with little damage. Lucky us again.

Posted by Jan