Captain's Log

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By Wendy Heisler

The last time I saw Bermuda, she chewed me up and spit me out in the most romantic way possible. You in the unkempt fancy shirt, you know what I’m talking about. It was the kind of affair that leaves you woozy, disoriented, dumbstruck and always finding pink sand in weird crevices. In the end – and it’s a swift termination, always – in the end it always leaves you wanting more.

The universe is funny. Ten months after I last frolicked hand in hand with Bermuda, I was sailing back into St. George’s Harbour with a devilish glint in me eye. This time I was determined to be the one in the power position. This time I had security reinforcements to block pink sand from entering my VIP areas. This time I knew the exact ratio of rum swizzles to ice cream necessary for entering a higher state of brain power. There was no messing with me, no sir.

Of course, we all know what happens when you’re left at the whim of a beautiful seductress. All self-posturing flies out the window and once again you’re happily laying face first in a pile of rum cake, which you originally planned to present to your boss and/or grandmother.

After three-point-five days snuggled up at Penno’s Wharf, our Picton Castle crew leaves doe-eyed and dizzy after a long weekend of sweet Bermuda love. A healthy chunk of us were return visitors, having dropped by last year as our second-to-last stop on World Voyage V. We were all eager to re-visit favorite haunts. Some found pink sand beaches and swam in cool, turquoise waters. Many ventured to Hamilton, the capital city, in search of action and in some cases, sit in trees (???). Some claimed territory at the famous Swizzle Inn to partake in their signature Rum Swizzle. Some hiked around St. George’s to find forts, hidden bays and parks. Most of us considered it of highest priority to sip Dark & Stormys with Bermudian rum and ginger beer. For me, it’s nostalgia in a glass.

Of course, a few days in port allows for much ship’s work to be accomplished. Our girl will feel pretty sassy sailing for Savannah, as she got big-time gussied up by our diligent crew. The freshly painted galley and scullery have not grown tired of our admiring “ooooohhhs”; a newly varnished wheel box gleams aft of the helm; our favorite color tropical blue glimmers from the breezeway overheads. Our passage to Savannah will certainly find us armed with paint brushes, tar, sand paper and rust bust lust to ensure that heads will turn when we arrive for tall ships festivities.

As of Wednesday, April 25 we set sail at approximately 0700 for some southern hospitality. Due to the last dying remnants of Monday’s gale, we hung around for an extra day to let the seas calm down. Now that we’re satisfied with our Bermudian love affair, our sights are set on the siren call of biscuits, fried chicken and collard greens… lord have mercy.

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