Tornadoes and turning south
15 NOVEMBER 2026
The year was turning toward winter and, although the weather in Savannah was mild and pleasant, the sight of Christmas decorations around the town reminded us that the end of the year was pressing in and we needed to get south.
We had one more, much-anticipated stop: a few days anchored in a quiet reach of water behind the barrier island of Cumberland Island, situated right on the border between Georgia and Florida. Most of Cumberland Island is now a national park, and it is a unique and slightly strange place.
Once a holiday retreat of the Carnegie family, the ruins of their mansion still stand, as do the descendants of the Carnegie horses, which roam freely over the southern end of the island. The trees hang heavy with Spanish moss and, in the undergrowth, countless armadillos scurry about.
After a couple of days exploring ashore and walking the wild sand-dune beach on the Atlantic side of the island, we were relaxing in the cockpit when the mobile phone went off like a klaxon with a tornado warning for the very area in which we were peacefully anchored.
Within minutes, we saw it heading our way.
I was filled with fear and panic. We were sitting ducks, anchored in the middle of nowhere. Should we weigh anchor and go? But go where? The tornado’s track could change direction at any moment.
Steven was strangely calm - almost fatalistic - and far more interested in filming the encroaching maelstrom than anything else. While he recorded its approach, I fretted and paced, my heart pounding.
It came within half a mile of our position, then veered off and went straight over the top of a naval base about a mile from us. We watched with astonishment as chaos reigned. A huge crane barge slipped its moorings and drifted away while other vessels were torn from the dock. Sirens wailed. Red lights flashed.
Then the tornado turned again toward Cumberland Island, passing across our bow about a mile distant. It carved a swathe the width of a six-lane highway through the oak forest, leaving not one tree standing in its wake.
The whole experience, although intensely stressful, was also awe-inspiring.
The next day, slightly shaken, we sailed into Florida - not our favourite state in the Union - but I had a very elderly friend in a care facility in West Palm Beach. I wanted to spend a few days with her, helping her get her affairs in order.
With that done, we sailed to the Bahamas to meet up with family for Christmas. After a very jolly festive season with three of our adult children, we dropped them off in Nassau and, a day later, my two sisters and one sisters partner joined us for the sail to Cuba.