Save Inatosha: Help Jason Restore His Home

Hi everyone,

My name is Wayne, and I'm reaching out to ask for your help. My brother Jason was caught in Hurricane Beryl on July 1st while aboard his small sailing yacht, Inatosha, in the Caribbean. He tried to take shelter on the island of Carriacou, but the hurricane devastated the area. Thankfully, Jason made it through the storm mostly unharmed, but Inatosha wasn’t as lucky. The boat lost its mast in winds over 100 knots and suffered significant hull damage.

Despite the damage, Jason managed to get Inatosha to Grenada, about 40 nautical miles away. However, the boat is taking on water and urgently needs repairs. Jason can do all the work himself, but the cost of materials and replacement parts is overwhelming.

Jason is always ready to help others, and he plans to assist many sailors who are in similar distress. Over four hundred yachts were damaged in the hurricane, but right now, he needs to secure his own boat and start the repair process. Parts are hard to come by on the islands, adding to the urgency.

Any contribution to help Jason restore Inatosha would mean the world to us. Even the smallest amount will make a difference, and we'll keep everyone updated on the progress. Jason has also shared his story of the hurricane below.

Thank you so much for your support.

Warm regards, Wayne

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Hurricane Beryl, 1st July 2024

Inatosha and I left Antigua in late May, bound for Grenada where we were to spend the summer working on yachts. This is a common strategy among sailors in this part of the Caribbean, as the southern islands are normally well outside the high-risk area for tropical storms. By late June, we were in the Tobago Cays, just forty nautical miles from Grenada, when the first rumours of a disturbance in the Atlantic began to circulate. Initially it was forecast to be a mild system, nothing to worry about, but within days it became clear we were facing something much more severe.

Four days before the storms arrival, predicted around Monday 1st July, I sailed to Carriacou to buy provisions and gather information. The local sailing community seemed confident that it would miss us and indeed life on the island life seemed to carry on as usual. Few preparations were being made and the anchorage was packed with visiting yachts, as it always is this time of year. This was very reassuring.

On Saturday, having decided to stay in Carriacou, I moved Inatosha into the mangroves and tied her to the trees as best I could. The storm had strengthened, but it was still tracking well to the North and in our area the winds were expected to be manageable. But the following morning we awoke to some disturbing news; Hurricane Beryl was likely to make a direct hit on Carriacou and had intensified! In Grenada, twenty miles to the south, yachts were fleeing to safer waters but for Inatosha, those havens were beyond her reach. We were trapped!

Everything above deck that was not permanently fixed was removed; sails, boom, solar panel and even the barbecue. I put out extra lines and an extra anchor and pulled her deeper into the mangrove trees. By the end of the day I was sure I had done everything I could, but was concerned by the number of vessels in the small mangrove, some very large ones which could wreak havoc if they were to break loose.

That evening, over a gin and tonic with the neighbors, we discussed the coming storm. There seemed to be a strange detachment, a kind of nervous resignation among us, like deer in the headlights! Even ashore, few windows had been boarded up or precautions taken. Many yachties locked their boats and booked hotel rooms, trusting their lines and the mangroves to keep the boats secure, but I felt dubious that they would be any safer on land. Then, on Monday morning at about 07:20, the storm arrived with astonishing force.

The wind quickly rose to 40 knots, then 90, and Inatosha was pinned down by larger yachts dragging their anchors. I was terrified as I watched my boat being crushed against the mangroves. The noise was deafening and the fear of losing everything was overwhelming as the hull began to crack. After about three hours of this, the wind suddenly dropped off and I realized, with relief, that we were entering the eye of the hurricane. For ten minutes the wind ceased completely and the sea fell calm. Outside, Inatosha was surrounded by dozens of boats which had compressed into a single raft, a mash of broken masts, bent steel and splintered fibreglass. I scrambled on deck to secure my lines, checking for chafe and cutting the nearest boats loose, desperate to avoid getting caught up in the pack when the wind returned.

In minutes the storm resumed with even greater fury than before. The raft of wrecks was torn away, leaving Inatosha alone in the lee of the trees as they disappeared into the spray. But something was wrong. The boat began to shake violently as the wind speed rose above 100 knots, then suddenly I heard almighty crack. The windshield shattered and the mast was swept away into the water behind me. I ducked below in terror, but without the mast the wind had less grip on Inatosha, which may have saved her. Now, drenched and shivering, all I could do was wait.

By 14:30 it was all over. Sailors emerged from their boats to complete devastation, on the water as well as in the surrounding hills and villages. Barely a single building had a roof, there was not a green leaf nor a tree over six feet standing. Boats lay strewn about, large catamarans were overturned, parts of sunken hulls poked up from the murky water while smoke from a burning yacht rose up in the distance. Nobody said much, or did anything as they tried to process the magnitude of what had just happened.

In the aftermath I felt an immense sadness for the loss and destruction around me. I did what I could to help others, using my satellite tracker to contact families and assisting with makeshift repairs. Inatosha, however, was still taking on water and I needed to haul her out as soon as possible. With the island in ruin, my only option would be to try and reach Grenada and so, four days after the storm, we managed to limp into Woburn Bay, somewhat worse for wear but grateful to be alive.

Jason