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Published: February 17th 2013
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Clifton Clashes in Union Island
After a few blowy days in Tobago Cays we moved south to Union Island. Like Saint Vincent, Union Island does not have a happy reputation. Many years ago, aboard Tin Lizzie, Mum and Dad had sensed real hostility and racial discord therefore I was slightly wary about visiting Union Island again. We moored up in a very busy Clifton Harbour and were directed by a local boat boy to a sufficiently large mooring to hold Fabiola’s 26 tons. We were only there to check out after all before heading down to Grenada to meet up with Nick and Tina Benson and their two boys, Ted and Ollie who both play rugby in the boy’s rugby teams. Unfortunately we were too late arriving at the airport (where customs and immigration formalities take place) to check out and would have to overnight in Clifton. This would have been a real pain were it not for the fact that Kazaio, Open Blue and a couple of other ARC boats were also in Clifton. Duly we monged on the beach with the kids, enjoyed sundowners on Sunny Island (located on the protecting reef) and Samuel finding a
stash of marijuana hidden in the crook of tree on the beach!
That night we went ashore for a pizza en masse. It was blowing hard and unknown to us there was chaos abounding in the harbour. On return to the boat we were climbing aboard as Eirik and Linn (aboard All-Linn) called from their mooring alongside us. It transpired that a French charter boat had dragged broken free from their mooring and then, while trying to anchor among the tightly packed boats, had run across the bows of Fabiola completely bending the pulpit and leaving marks along the starboard side of the hull. It was about 10pm but I wanted to act quickly before the charter boat left so Eirik and I jumped back in the dinghy to find them. They had been moved onto an extremely unpleasant sea-wall where the motion was extremely violent with the waves bashing them against their fenders and in a position where sleep would have been almost impossible.
Aboard were several wide-eyed Russians who had been pretty shell-shocked by what had happened and not least by our appearance in the night. One of the girls aboard had a badly bandaged leg
having been injured in the collision. Luckily we were able to speak some English with them and informed them that we would need to inspect both the damage on our boat as well as theirs in the light of day and that they were not to leave.
We duly returned the following morning and managed to get a written admittance of responsibility for the collision and a number of witness statements from other eye-witnesses who came forward voluntarily. Without the immediate help of Eirik and Linn and the legal advice from John on Senta we would have been seriously out of pocket.
We left Clifton with a bad taste in our mouths that Union Island had struck again and once we arrived in Grenada it became apparent that we would not be able to sail again until the rig had been given the all clear from a surveyor. Clifton struck again some 2 weeks later when Rafiki was hit in the same anchorage by a drifting boat – this time they did not stop and bizarrely we found One Dream lurking in Sandy Island, near Cariacou, and accosted them. Again it was Russians crewed, but this time on a large catamaran.
We initiated the insurance claim and it was some 3 weeks before we were able to sail again. This came at a really bad time as we were then unable to leave with the Bensons who had flown out to see us and have a sailing holiday with us. They remained stoic and jumped on a ferry to Cariacou but could not do any sailing. We all felt really bad that we had been stopped from leaving port. How bizarre that if you have a car that needs repairing after an accident (even if you caused it) you get a courtesy car – here in sailing there is no similar arrangement. Despite this the Russians had to sail their boat back to Martinique (some 180 miles) without guardrails, jackstays or any stanchions on the starboard side. It didn’t seem very fair.
Eventually the work was completed in Grenada to a satisfactory level and we were able to escape again. I suppose that there are worse places to be stuck than Grenada having work done.
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