New Year’s day saw Chris recovering from an operation. By mid-January I was experiencing serious difficulties with my eyesight.
The Panama Canal was weighing heavily on our mind. We needed to get Scorch ready for our departure at the end of January. There were still many unfinished jobs. Victuals for one were a major task. Armed with long lists I made many lone trips to the supermarkets. I became an expert at loading/unloading the dinghy, dodging the waves hoping to deliver a dry load back to Scorch. Chris was under strict medical instructions not to lift or carry any weight; instead I developed strong arms and sore back. In the anchorage during that month there was a feeling of anticipation, tinged with frantic activities among the Captains and crew getting ready to leave Spanish Water on their way to the Pacific. Dinghies were darting to and fro at speed creating great wash in the normally calm anchorage.
By the end of January good sense prevailed; we decided to delay our crossing to the Pacific and we permanently abandoned any plans to sail to Alaska. A trip to the latter requires a different kind of boat and crew to Scorch. Bobbing up and down for thousands of miles in rough mountainous seas, sometimes against the current, being cold and wet, was in our case nothing short of madness. After all this was the very reason we were away from England! The bleak picture the trip painted outweighed any delights of Iceberg sceneries or marine life. It would be the only time when we could be persuaded to take a two week cruise on a liner and let someone else take all responsibilities. In any case we have done with character building experiences at this stage of our life; we are looking for an easier time!
Early February Chris was recovering but my eyesight was deteriorating fast. I had been ignoring the fact I had not been feeling well for quite some time. The light sensitivity I had been experiencing became worse creating few attacks of momentary blindness. Drops were prescribed and dark glasses, hats with curtains shut became the norm below deck. I was unable to write or read and my brain was not functioning normally. Mind and speech were at times not connecting. My right eye was getting larger whilst my left was getting smaller; Frankenstein would have been proud! An alarming and frightening situation was developing. My cussedness and determination to carry on as normal backfired. Our ill-health, enthusiasm for travel and outside influences clouded our normally clear judgement. We should have given ourselves time to recover, sailed quietly around the ABC’s and Roques. Instead we moved on North. Every passage became more of a trial and each time took it longer to recover. The original plan to sail to the Turks and Caicos, which in theory should have made the return journey to Curacao easier, was abandoned in favour of Cuba. The argument was that we may never be near that area again and not to see the country with its unusual culture, music etc. tipped the scales in favour of going there. Normally sailors keep going West with the Trade winds but our return tickets to Europe were booked therefore we had to go South after the trip. The die was cast; the return passage to Curacao was going to be hard. My travel motion sickness was becoming worse, even the many miles on land were a trial. I was becoming totally disorientated, unable to concentrate, write or read, but nothing prepared me for the last leg of the journey
I truly can say the 7 days and 7nights were hell on earth for me! The constant pounding of the bow against waves, current and wind coupled with my seasickness together with my inability to lie comfortably due to my fractured sacrum sent me scatty. Eating was not on the cards and I had to force myself to drink. My loss of balance meant I could not stand up longer than a few minutes. Rather than being a helpful crew I became a liability to Chris. I was determined to let him sleep and rest. I took the watch from midnight until 6 am. Thank God for all the modern electronic devices. I lay in the saloon clutching the kitchen timer with the alarm set for every 10 minutes. I checked the radar and AIS for boat traffic, looked out on deck and let the auto pilot do the rest.
We were beginning to accept that we would not make the Aves. Bonaire became a wish but in the end we would have been grateful to make Curacao. As it happened on our last day the wind veered and we reached Bonaire by Mid-night.
Any hopes that dry land would help me were soon dashed. 10 kilos lighter I was struggling. We had heard that a lady on the island was practicing Dr. W.H. Schuessler’s method of treatment. He was Medical Doctor who studied under Dr. Hahnemann the founder of Homeopathic Medicine. He was a physiological chemist and a physicist who developed a Therapy using Biochemical tissue salts. Stephanie proved very helpful and the effects and reactions to the tissue salts, within hours of taking, were extraordinary. My features recovered within two weeks but she said it would be take a few months before I saw the full results. How right she was!
Hindsight is a wonderful thing...................
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