Boat on a reef

There was once a pretty little boat that had caught my eye. I’d seen her in Grenada for a few months, nothing like this one featured here, but the picture tells the same sad story. She was gorgeous, had lovely lines, a wooden yawl like ours and from the same American era of wooden yacht design. She needed some care in the way of varnishing and paintwork but she was lovely all the same. At the time I thought that one day, I would love to own a boat just like her.

A few months later I sailed up Islands on another boat and was sitting in the cockpit when the same boat passed by heading for an anchorage inside a dog-leg reef that could be seen from where we were anchored, about a mile away. I watched this graceful boat sail out, admiring her new varnished and painted woodwork.

Such a pretty boat.

I watched as she approached the unmarked channel for the other anchorage, oh so pretty under sail. Then I watched as she suddenly came to an abrupt halt and there was fevered activity on deck by the solo skipper. The wind filled the sails but she didn’t move, only went broadside and leant further over. I could see the skipper trying to lower the sails, difficult to lower when filled with wind. I got the binoculars out and just couldn’t believe what was happening to my dream boat. She’d gone on the reef and was being pushed further on by the wind and waves. Oh what a disaster. My skipper got on the radio and the alarm was raised. Dinghies roared over to see what they could do to help. I felt helpless and could only watch as this beautiful boat was swept further onto the reef, baring her bottom as she was swept onto her side. Nothing could be done. She was stuck hard.


I remember crying at the loss I felt for the senseless end of a beautiful boat forever. I felt each crunch inside me as she was battered by the reef, as if I was taking the physical pain for a boat with no feelings, as if I was watching someone die a painful death.

We left soon after, heading south again and I’ll never forget seeing her lying helpless on the reef, all alone out there with no hope of recovery, and a year or so later when I returned her hull was lying on the bottom of our anchorage. Don’t know how she got there. I dove down to the wreck. She was bare of masts and all her fittings, just another wreck for divers and fish to explore, still beautiful, but naked for all to see.

A reminder to all passing yachtsmen of the perils of the Caribbean sea and shores.