VANISHING SAIL
breathing again? It would be a remarkable vindication
of their efforts if a third build were to happen just three
years after the film’s release. But whether it happens
now or later, the skills that make that third build
possible, and other boats after that, are now cemented
in a younger generation. The awareness of those skills
now stretches through sailing communities worldwide.
Surely we can say that the tradition of boatbuilding in
Windward is alive and well once again.Watch the film online: vanishingsail.comAbove: the latest
Carriacou build
Free in St Barth.
Below, left to
right: Justin
Sihera; sound
designer Gus
Koven; sold out,
again!“The encouragement and support we received in the
crowd-funding campaign launched us into a much
deeper journey, one that would result in a more
meaningful tribute to the independent spirit of the
maritime West Indies. We continued interviewing further:
Bequia, Antigua, St Barths, Anguilla, New York,
Oklahoma, San Diego, Panama, even Australia, tying all
the pieces together of a rich sailing heritage that was
once the lifeblood of these islands.
“During three years of filming, Alwyn Enoe’s own
story became the frame for the entire film – using simple
tools and a lifetime of knowledge, he and his sons
created something more than just a beautiful vessel. They
created a possibility for the once proud traditions of the
West Indies to continue a little longer.”
That goal became a reality as the boat built in the
film, Exodus, was bought by Philippe Fabre (the owner
of Havsornen, who died last year, featured in our
March issue). A year later the Enoe family was busy
again, this time with Alwyn’s son Cal in charge, the
boat commissioned by Thierry De Badereau of the
clothing brand Free in St Barth. And now, perhaps, a
third is in the offing. So is the tradition that Andrews
and Sihera hoped to regenerate really living andTom Cunlie on Vanishing Sail
‘‘
When I cruised the Eastern Caribbean in the early 1970s I helped
load a gaf rigged island sloop with live goats and cows in
Grenada, then watched her sail away down the tradewind. A generation
ago, such sights were commonplace, but by the 1980s the only local
vessel I found trading under canvas ran from St Kitts to Nevis carrying
beer, empties and brightly dressed ladies bound for market. Her skipper
was embarrassed not to have an engine, which seemed to spell the end
of traditional working craft in the West Indies. The fact that it was only a
hiatus is largely down to the eforts of the boatbuilders of Windward, a
tiny village on the Grenadine island of Carriacou.
Vanishing Sail chronicles the construction of a sloop called Exodus
by a family whose traditions refuse to die. Windward has a grass-roots
culture of boatbuilding; the master builder is Alwyn Enoe. The film was
made by Alexis Andrews, aided and abetted by countless friends,
helpers and well-wishers, from his comrade-in-arms Justin Sihera,through a team of local men and women you simply could not make up,
to a baby, the ship’s dog and no less a luminary than Eric Clapton.
The action begins when Alexis sails a sloop built at Windward back
to her origins, to discover that the yard has no orders. Encouraged by
Alexis, Alwyn sharpens his adze, fells trees in the local forest and enlists
his strong young sons. Raised in the shadow of boats in frame, they
know what to do. Against all odds, Exodus is launched in time for
Antigua Classic Yacht Regatta and the family sail her north in a
dreamlike passage to race against her peers. I won’t reveal the twist in
the tale, but it’s a moving finale.
Whether you build boats, sail them or dream about them, if you’re
jaded by life and fear the western world has lost its way, seek out a
showing of this movie or slot the DVD into your player. Then stand by to
have your heart strangely warmed. So long as traditional craft
still rise on the foreshore at Windward, mankind is not lost.‘‘
JAN HEIN