In the cockpit, sipping my second cup of coffee, I thought about the day ahead. I was excited about having a few days to myself. Let's face it--cozy togetherness with the one you love is dandy, but a bit of breathing room every once in a while can be a good thing. I looked forward to doing whatever I wanted to do, whenever I wanted to do it. I figured I would get the work projects on my “To Do” list out of the way; then I could goof off with a clear conscience.

“Teak” was the word for the day. Iniki was a Pacific Seacraft Crealock, a beautiful blue water cruiser with a dark green hull, brass fittings and teak trim. The tropical sun and salt water are brutal on the varnished bright work and she needed a touch-up. The weather report from the night before predicted a clear day with no rain--just what I needed to get the job done. There was, however, mention of a tropical storm named Mitch located north and west of Bonaire. Even though Mitch was increasing in strength and was predicted to become a hurricane, it moved further away from Bonaire.

So tropical storm Mitch was not a concern for me….I thought.

I got busy and cleaned, taped and lightly sanded all the exterior teak. Then I applied two coats of varnish. In between coats I reorganized the cabinets and lockers below. That was a much easier task without bumping into another person every time I turned around.

There was actually a surprising amount of storage space on board Iniki. We had removed the cushion from the aft berth and used that area to store spare parts, dive gear, spear guns and miscellaneous stuff. Compartments under the V-berth and each of the settees in the salon provided more storage. Still, space on the boat was at a premium and had to be used efficiently.

Regardless of what had to be retrieved, it always seemed to turn into an archeological dig to find the desired item and often turned up surprises long forgotten. Generally, I knew where everything was. Under the starboard settee, pasta, tuna fish, diced tomatoes, salsa and oil were neatly packed in plastic containers next to a spare danforth anchor and chain, spare alternator and large black tool bag. Rice, flour, pancake mix, condiments, snacks, canned vegetables, canned fruit, dried beans and lentils were under the port settee.

I took an inventory of provisions on hand. We still had large containers full of lentils that we bought before we left the States. Why on earth did we lug around 25 pounds of lentils for the past two years?What were we thinking? I didn't know what to expect when we started out. It had been a learning experience to discover what worked well on a boat and what didn't. We proved that lentils keep well for long periods of time but we were never so remote or low on food that I wanted to steam up an already-hot environment with a nice big pot of lentil soup. I tossed the lentils overboard that day. Let the fish enjoy them!

After a long day's work I was absorbed in a good book that kept me up reading later than usual. It was nearly midnight when I climbed into the V-berth, ready to sleep. Before I could get comfortable I felt a change in the boat's movement. Waves slapped the hull. The wind whistled through the rigging. Something is wrong! Alarmed, I got back up to have a look around outside.

Standing by the companionway I noticed that the winds shifted and swiftly increased from zero to twenty knots as it clocked around from east to south to west. The driving rain came next. Lightning illuminated the clouds to the west. The sky rumbled.

“Oh no!” I groaned out loud to myself. “Please don't let this be happening!”

My biggest fear while I was alone on a mooring was a wind reversal. Mitch, the named storm soon to become one of the deadliest hurricanes of the century, had influenced the weather in the Southeastern Caribbean and caused an interruption of the normal eastern trade winds. A wind reversal was in progress.

Wind reversals happen in Bonaire only a couple of times a year. Boats on moorings swing around 180 degrees, which places them treacherously close to the rocky shore. But the real danger comes with the large swells and breaking waves. Their force can snap mooring lines, rip out cleats and toss the boats up on the rocks.

The harbormaster of Bonaire is on constant watch for wind reversals and there's usually several hours notice to mariners. Warnings of potential danger are broadcast on television. Radio stations announce wind reversal alerts on the air. When forewarned and prepared the local fishing boats, dive boats, tour boats and recreational boats could take shelter in the marina or go out to sea until the crisis was over.

We did not have a T.V. on board and I did not listen to the local radio stations that night. Out on deck in the wind and rain, I was suddenly very wide-awake. Strong gusts strained the flapping awning, so I hauled it down and cleared the excess stuff out of the cockpit area. The rain didn't last long and the wind soon dropped back down to dead calm.

Maybe the worst is over. I hoped it was true but I didn't quite believe it. I sat up a while to watch the wind and seas. Just then the big swells began to roll in from the west. Like a giant pendulum, Iniki rocked so much from side to side that it felt like her mast would hit the water.

Down below, the coffee pot crashed on the floor. Books flew off the shelves. Pans and dishes banged and clanged. I stuffed towels everywhere to stop the racket. Since there was no wind to hold all the moored boats in the same direction, they were rolling and swinging every which way, masts and sterns too close for comfort. Iniki's stern was nearly on top of the building breaking waves.

I looked around and saw flashlights on boats nearby. Other cruisers were also up and alert to the situation. I watched as a few left the mooring area to ride it out at sea, while other boats in deeper water on the outside moorings stayed put.

On shore it was the eve of a local holiday--Antillean Day. I could hear the loud music blasting from the huge speakers at Karel's Tiki Bar, full of dancing partiers. The festive mood seemed odd and inappropriate considering the danger and drama I faced on the water. The pleasure of my solitude was gone and I longed for Ken's experience, skill and strength. I needed his gift of clear, quick thinking in emergency situations.

My mind raced. What should I do? Should I stay and ride it out? Should I call someone for help? Who? I figured everyone I knew would be busy dealing with this. Should I take the boat off the mooring? What if I screw up and end up on the rocks?

I had handled the boat plenty of times before but there was always someone else on board. I had never single-handed her before. I remembered that Ken had said in case of a wind reversal we would simply slip off the mooring lines and go sailing for a while. Slipping the lines was simple with two people, but could I do it by myself with these big rollers pushing me around?

The sound of my pounding heart seemed to amplify in my head. I wanted to shut my eyes and have the nightmare go away. Maybe I'll be all right if I just sit tight. But I could not shake the thoughts that kept creeping back into my mind: Land is danger! Get away from the shore! It is safer in deep water.

I turned on the engine and looked for an escape route through the swinging row of boats between the open water and me. It was 2:00AM. I glanced around and mentally went over a plan of what I had to do. Just take one step at a time. I turned on the running lights and looked around some more. Can I do this? Still, I hesitated. I didn't want to risk it. I sat frozen with fear until I heard a loud crack. Startled, I looked toward the small fisherman's pier that was about two boat lengths away from me. An unattended ferryboat ripped away from the dock as I watched. The violent waves spun the boat around and bashed it up on the rocky shore. Each wave that pounded it produced a sickening sound of splintering, crunching wood. Somewhere inside its cabin a bell clanged like a death toll.

That's it! I have to go. If I stay another minute it might be our home that gets destroyed. I can do this. I MUST do this! NOW!

Spurred into action, I went forward, slipped the starboard mooring line at the bow, then went back to the wheel to keep the boat facing out to sea toward the waves. I put on the autopilot, thinking it would keep the boat straight. Timing was critical. Watching and waiting for a lull between series of waves, I hurried back to the bow to slip the port bow line and made sure all the lines were in the boat. The last thing I needed was a line wrapped around the propeller crippling the engine. That most certainly would spell disaster. Another big breaking wave pushed the boat broadside to the seas and even closer to both the shore and the sailboat next to me. Grabbing a handrail for balance, I rushed back to take the wheel.

OK, get me out of this mess! I turned the wheel and revved the engine but the boat wouldn't turn. I had no control! My mind could not grasp the problem. All I could see was the depth gauge registering less and less water under the keel as Iniki continued to drift towards the rocks.

What's wrong? Why is this happening? Think!

The moment seemed like an eternity before I realized that I forgot to turn off the autopilot. Idiot! Switching it off I turned the wheel hard over to port and gunned the engine, in forward, reverse, then forward again. Iniki responded and her bow came around just in time to avoid a collision with my neighbor. I plowed through the waves, then around an outside boat that was also leaving. The pulse in my head was deafening.

As I maneuvered out to deep water away from the treacherous mooring I talked out loud to myself, hoping that the sound of my own voice would keep me focused and thinking clearly. “Jane, you're OK….Take a deep breath and calm down. You're doing good…the boat is OK. Everything is going to be OK. You can do this. Keep it up!”

I swallowed my panic and reassessed my situation. It was a black night with no moon. I had another four hours until daylight. An eternity! In the dark everything is distorted and strange. The familiar coastline of Bonaire became hard to read in the blur of shore lights. Distances were deceptive. Ten or more other sailboats also motored around so I had to pay attention to their navigation lights to keep clear of them.

Another concern was Klein Bonaire. The flat little island was invisible in the dark with no lights. At night its surrounding reef was impossible to see. “What if…” thoughts threatening to undo me as I motored back and forth until dawn.

What if I run out of fuel? What if the high winds and squalls return? How can I leave the helm to use the head with all these boats going in circles? Can I keep this up all night? What if I can't stay awake? How did I get myself in this situation?

I looked at my watch. Did it stop? Surely more than a minute had passed since I last looked. No, I saw that the hand still ticked off the seconds. The night seemed endless. To pass the time and avoid scary thoughts, I sang every song I could think of and tried to remember every anchorage and town we ever visited with our boat.

And I prayed.

Relief and joy swept over me when morning finally arrived. The sun came up in a glorious display of color, chasing away the goblins of darkness and the long, stressful night. The sea was as smooth as glass. Everything appeared calm, but not quite normal. One of the other sailboats got too close to Klein Bonaire during the night and was aground on the reef at the northeast corner.

I, too, still had a dilemma. I survived the night but what do I do with Iniki now? Maybe I could pick up the mooring again. That has to be easier than getting off last night! So, very, very slowly, I approached the same mooring I had left hours earlier. I put the boat in neutral and she continued to glide toward my target. On the bow I leaned over the rail with boat hook in hand, but could not quite reach the line I needed to grab. I was so close! Returning to the helm, I circled the boat around for a second attempt. I leaned out over the rail again, stretching….steady…. Yes!

I did it! I retrieved the mooring lines and hooked them on the forward bow cleats. Iniki was safe and secure again. A euphoric feeling bubbled up inside me. I wanted to scream and shout! I was so proud of myself.

Then I noticed the crashed ferry boat nearby on shore. A crowd gathered around to inspect the large, jagged hole in the side of the hull. My emotions were all over the place. I felt relieved and elated, yet nervous and fearful. I was exhausted from being up all night but my adrenaline was still pumping. I went below and started to shake. Images of my struggle to save the boat and the sounds of the ferry breaking up played over and over in my head.

I sat down on the settee in the salon. Tears quickly turned to sobs. I wept with fear over my vulnerability and what could have happened to the boat and to me. All night long I fought to control my emotions in order to focus on what had to be done. I had no one else to lean on during the ordeal and had to dig down deep inside to find strength to get through the night. Now that the crisis was over it was safe to let go and release all the tensions pent up inside for so many hours.

Over the next few days Mitch spun itself into one of the most destructive hurricanes in history, killing over 18,000 people in Central America and the western Caribbean. My troubles seemed insignificant in comparison, but my thoughts about myself were altered forever. I possessed a new level of confidence. I didn't realize at the time that I would need to draw strength and courage from the experience ten months later, when I faced another crisis.

For the moment, however, I felt only post-traumatic stress. The tears and shaking finally stopped but sleep was elusive. Every time I closed my eyes fears and visions of doom rushed back into my mind. I looked around the inside of Iniki remembering when we bought her and thought about how far we had traveled.