Saturday, December 8, 2018

San Blas Islands



We had been eager to visit the San Blas Islands for years but after our trip to San Diego, where we had a fabulous visit with family and friends, it was more of an effort to develop enthusiasm to sail eastwards, even if it was only 70 miles.  Our Panama Canal transit was weighing on our minds and the thought of only being 2,700 miles from home was a calling that was hard not to hear.  Still, we managed to rustle up the energy to cast off the dock lines (in 25 knots of wind) and sail out of Puerto Colón and into the western Caribbean.  Of course, the wind soon died and we had to motor most of the way to Isla Grande, arriving late on a Saturday afternoon.  There was still enough light left for me to clean the propeller as it was badly fouled with barnacles from sitting in Shelter Bay Marina for so long (cleaning while tied to the dock in Shelter Bay wasn’t an option as there are crocodiles in the water there – we’ve seen them).  It would have been helpful if our built-in hookah was working but after so many years of nonuse, it wouldn’t run so I had to clean the prop by free diving.  Note to self:  Avoid arriving at a tourist destination on a weekend night unless you want to listen to very loud music all night.

The next day was an easy passage to Cayos Chichime and even though some cruisers disdain the location as too popular, it was a delight for Ruthie and me as it represented the quintessential destination:  Clear, warm water, small palm-covered islands, good sand holding, mill pond-like anchoring, no loud music and friendly locals.  One of the big draws for our visit to the San Blas is that they’re populated by the Guna Yala, a people who still live simply, shunning many modern conveniences like electricity.  Of course, there are Guna Yala who use outboard motors on their crudely-built canoes and one family brought us their iPad and iPhone for charging but many still live traditionally.   What is unique and distinctive among the Guna Yala are the beautiful molas that they sew and wear.  Made from layers of brightly colored cloth, the molas are embroidered by hand and can take months to complete.

While still anchored in Cayos Chichime, we were approached by two men in a canoe who asked if they could come aboard and show us their molas.  We found them to be stunning and searched through dozens and dozens before picking out fourteen.  I choked a little as I counted out the cash (Panama uses the US dollar as their currency) but we were delighted with our purchases.  Before leaving, one of the men gave us his card and it read ‘Venancio Restrepo’.  Later, as Ruthie was reading our Lonely Planet guide for Panama, she found a paragraph that said don’t miss the molas made by Venancio Restrepo.

Moving still further eastward we found islands more remote and less populated, both by cruisers and the Guna Yala.  In the Cayos Holandes, we found some excellent snorkeling only to be told later that the area is well populated with crocodiles.  Our snorkeling routine changed immediately and we only went with other cruisers, one of whom would stay in the dinghy, armed with a loud air horn to warn those in the water of an approaching croc.  We never saw one but others had and it was enough to make us cautious.


Throughout our stay we were visited by locals, many times offering us fish, crab or lobster but sometimes just coming by to say hello or ask for a drink of water.  Large, live lobster typically went for US$5 each and one time a group of young men came by with two huge Caribbean crab.  When I asked how much for the crab, one of the men quickly said, “Ten dollars.” and then just as quickly said, “Eight dollars.”  I asked, “Two for fifteen?” and a smile swept across his face as he accepted my offer.  The crabs were so big that I could only cook one at a time in our large, 15-quart pressure cooker.  The crab was fabulous and we ate it for days.

One aspect of the San Blas Islands that we found disappointing was that many cruising boats seem to be abandoned there.  We would see boats that appeared to have had no attention in years, their names and hailing ports erased.  The Guna Yala would be helpless at getting these vessels removed as ownership would be almost impossible to prove and salvaging would be stratospherically expensive.  Granted, there are many responsible cruisers there who have made the San Blas Islands their home (we met one couple who had been anchored in the same spot for thirteen years) but some have taken advantage of the kindness of the Guna Yala and exploited it.  It’s a terrible form of pollution.


On our way back to Shelter Bay Marina, we stopped for the night at Bahia Linton, a spot that is very popular with the cruising fleet – probably over 60 cruising sailboats at anchor.  We had no contact with anyone and left the next morning.  Once we arrived back at Shelter Bay, we learned that three cruising boats had been victims of armed robberies in Bahia Linton just recently.

Back in Shelter Bay, our focus was now on our upcoming transit of the Panama Canal.


Thursday, December 6, 2018

Panama



Our approach to Colón, Panamá was both thrilling and intimidating, intensified by occurring at the end of a 4-day passage with little sleep, right at first light on the morning of May 14. We hadn’t seen a fleet of freighters that size since we were in Singapore and maneuvering among them was a true white-knuckle experience.  Regulations required us to contact ‘Cristóbal Signal Station’ on the radio when we were within 2 miles of the entrance to Colón harbor and though they were extremely busy, they gave us explicit instructions.  Entering right behind us through the opening in the 3-mile long breakwater was one of the mammoth Disney cruise ships, which had to slow down to match our snail’s pace of 6 knots so as not to over-run us.  It was a relief to pull into Shelter Bay Marina with its substantial docks, excellent facilities and mill pond-like conditions.  They made us a pretty good offer on an extended-stay rate which we accepted and we got started on the long list of projects we wanted to complete before we left for San Diego.

Shelter Bay Marina is on the grounds of what used to be Fort Sherman, one of two military installations built by the US to provide security for the Panama Canal.  Both installations were turned over to the Panamanian government in 1999 as part of the treaty signed by Jimmy Carter.  However, the Panamanian government either wasn’t interested or didn’t have the resources to maintain the buildings, roads and other aspects of a large, complex installation and the jungle is a powerful force that will overtake whatever it wants unless a great deal of time and effort is spent to keep it at bay.  Wild life abounds in the form of mantled howler monkeys, white-headed capuchin monkeys, sloths, iguanas, crocodiles and lots more.  From our berth at the marina, we could hear the howler monkeys.




Also near the grounds of Fort Sherman is the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Fuerte San Lorenzo, a fort built in the 16th century to protect Panama’s Caribbean coast.  We toured the fort which was fascinating but lost count of how many times it was destroyed and rebuilt (I don’t remember who destroyed it the first time but I do remember that Sir Henry Morgan (of the rum fame) destroyed it the second time.).

The majority of cruising sailboats transit the Panama Canal in the December to February time frame and though many slips at the marina were empty, there were still a few cruisers there and they made an effort to maintain a ‘community’.  The morning ‘net’ on the VHF radio was expertly controlled by any one of several volunteers and it seemed to have a pretty good level of participation.  There were daily yoga lessons, water aerobics in the swimming pool and a weekly pot luck dinner.  As with many cruiser communities we’ve become associated with, there were a few people who seemed to be there forever, some that knew everything and some who had nothing to do with anyone.

The Panama Canal Authority requires every yacht that transits the Canal to have at least four line handlers and whereas a transiting yacht can always hire professional line handlers, it’s cheaper and more fun to recruit a fellow cruiser who is interested in gaining the experience before they take their own boat through.  I posted a 3x5 index card on a bulletin board near the marina office that Ruthie and I were available as volunteer line handlers and less than 30 minutes later, there was a knock on Rutea’s hull and there stood Luc, a Belgian who was looking for two line handlers for his 54-foot catamaran.  He invited us for cocktails that night and it was there we met his wife, Elaine.  Luc speaks excellent English but Elaine not so much and their three young children not at all.  Their transit was to be a single-day, meaning there would be no overnight mooring in Lake Gatun.  Since we needed to pick up our Canal Authority-assigned advisor at 0500 at the ‘Flats’, we needed to leave the marina at about 0300.  It was hard for either Ruthie or me to get much sleep that night, knowing that we’d have to wake up at about 0200, make coffee and button up Rutea for the day.  We were right on time as we were about to step aboard the big cat when Luc met us on the dock.  Our transit had been postponed by a day.  “Go back to bed,” said Luc.
Gatun Locks with Giles and Artur

The next morning, at the same time, we cast off the dock lines shortly after 0300 and steamed towards the rendezvous point.  Our advisor was right on time and we were just heading into the first of the three Gatun Locks as the sun was rising.

One of 46 tugs used at the Canal - $15M each
There are any one of several configurations that a yacht can be assigned when transiting the Canal.  If there are several yachts transiting at the same time, a ‘raft’ can be formed and the outside boats have the required 7/8” lines go ashore where workers place the eyes in the ropes around massive bollards.  Another configuration is for the yacht to be against the wall of the Canal and hopefully the robust fenders that the agent provided will keep the yacht from being damaged.  A third option is for the yacht to tie up to a tug or work boat that is tied to the wall.  The big cat we were on was assigned to tie up to a 60-foot work boat.  The work boat was kind of a grungy thing and since it didn’t have an enclosed toilet, the owner had opted to rent a ‘porta-pottie’ and place it on the aft deck as Canal regulations require all vessels to have an enclosed head.  Besides showing lots of wear and tear, the work boat belched thick clouds of black exhaust from its engines, which were never shut down.

Bridge of the Americas
Our transit went smoothly enough and was even boring at times.  We made it through the final lock and into the Pacific while it was still light and anchored between Isla Culebra and Isla Flamenco.  Luc and Elaine offered to take Ruthie and me out for dinner but the children were already falling asleep, so we requested they just take us ashore.  They insisted, though, woke the children and all of us piled into their small dinghy for a wet ride into the dinghy dock.  We had dinner, found a nice hotel, said ‘au revoir’ to Luc, Elaine and family, got a decent night’s sleep and took a bus back to Colón.

The next couple of weeks where whirlwinds of activity aboard Rutea as we prepared her to sit patiently in her slip while Ruthie and I returned to San Diego.  We were able to find a cruiser who was willing to look in on Rutea and that gave us a little piece of mind that if something were to happen, at least we’d know about it before we returned to be surprised.  We left Shelter Bay Marina and Rutea in the early morning and shared a cab with a cruiser who had business in Panama City, about an hour-and-a-half drive away.  We checked into the squeaky clean Hotel Coral Suites and even though we were there well before check-in time, they showed us to our spacious room.

Armed with a copy of Lonely Planet for Panama, its top edge fluttering with bits of paper marking important pages, we set out to discover this city whose skyline resembles that of Miami Beach in Florida.  As per usual, Ruthie and I walk everywhere and, fortunately, Panama City is mostly very flat.  That didn’t stop me, though, from working up enough perspiration to completely soak my clothes, the tropical heat and humidity continuously torturing me.

One of the highlights of our tour was visiting the old part of Panama City, which, like many cities, has undergone revitalization and now hosts trendy shops and tony eateries.  We easily spent three hours in the museum on the building of the Panama Canal, the saga of which almost reads like a fictional murder mystery.  For lunch, we walked back to the fish market, a massive facility for both wholesale and retail seafood sales, complete with many restaurants and stalls.

That evening we got together with a cruising couple we had met at Shelter Bay Marina (who were also leaving their boat and heading home) and after cocktails in our room, we walked to a restaurant with a dinner show featuring traditional Panamanian folk dancing which was far from professional but had much in the way of effort, dignity and pride.  We all felt it was very worthwhile and the food was pretty good, too.

Then, one more time, Ruthie and I boarded a plane for home, knowing that probably it would be the last time we’d leave Rutea in a foreign port and fly home.





Sunday, November 25, 2018

Book Review of 200,000 Miles by Jimmy Cornell

I wrote this review on my iPhone while waiting for a flight and had originally posted this on cruisersforum.com but only got one reply.  Just yesterday, I got the idea of submitting it to some of the cruising magazines for publication, however, a search revealed that there are already many reviews of the book published.  I like my review better.
Ruthie with Jimmy Cornell


While we were at the United States Boat Show in Annapolis October, 2017, we had the good fortune to meet Jimmy Cornell at the Hydrovane booth. We purchased his book, 200,000 Miles, had him autograph it, chatted for a couple of seconds, took a photo and got out of the way as a long line of other cruisers were waiting to meet him as well. This is my take on the book. 

Most cruisers know Jimmy Cornell as the author of World Cruising Routes, what many in the cruising community consider the Bible of guide books. Our own copy of WCR is badly worn, many of the pages dog-eared, some pages stained with spilled coffee, lots of notes in the margins, etc. Whenever we're planning a passage, it's our first reference - you would think that as many times as we've referred to it, we'd have it memorized by now. Of course, we haven't always agreed with the advice in WCR (it suggests giving the north end of Madagascar a 20-mile wide berth - it would have been much better to keep 'one foot on the beach') but we largely credit its advice for making our circumnavigation free from hazardous conditions - that and good luck. Even if you're not considering a circumnavigation, the book is an interesting read. But, this review isn't about WCR. 

200,000 Miles is part autobiography and part 'how to' manual. He describes his humble beginnings in Communist Romania, his father who challenged the Party and his fascination with the sea for which he had no explanation. Born with both brains and brawn, he managed to get to the UK, where he met and married Gwenda, who bore them a son and a daughter. A career with the BBC allowed him some freedom of movement and while the children were still young, he bought Aventura, a small ketch on which they completed a 7-year circumnavigation, the first of his three. This was well before the advent of electronic navigation and Jimmy would always announce their position and distance covered in the last 24 hours at lunch - when they launched their cruising website, it was Jimmy's son who suggested they call it 'noonsite'.

It was fun to read about many of the same places we had visited: Vanuatu, Suwarrow, Thailand, Chagos, South Africa and St. Helena to name a few. However, his description of cruising Antarctica was enough for me to slam the book shut, look my wife in the eye and say, "We're going!" Whereas I found some of his descriptions of places to be a little tedious (" . . . and we were warmly welcomed by the people there . . . "), his vivid descriptions of cruising Antarctica were captivating, compelling and fantastic. My wife and I were fortunate to have been able to cruise Patagonia aboard some friend's boat (got to sail around Cape Horn, go ashore, meet the lighthouse keeper and his wife, have our passports stamped) but JC's description of Antarctica makes me want to make that our next destination. 

I didn't find his trip through the Northwest Passage to be nearly as interesting but I was able to still learn much from it (a Diesel engine will run on Jet-A fuel although JC added 2-stroke motor oil).

He occasionally went on a rant - he finds it incredulous that so many cruisers no longer carry paper charts (guilty) and that he thinks it's completely unnecessary to have an outboard motor of more than 5hp (we have a 5hp outboard but we also have a 15hp - guess which one we use most?).

It was almost a relief to learn that Jimmy Cornell isn’t a ‘purist’:  When he realized that he was running late to make the attempt at the Northwest Passage, he put Aventura IV on a freighter in order to arrive at the jumping off point on time.  Whereas he’s capable of undertaking most repairs himself, he doesn’t hesitate to hire mechanics, laborers, etc to do the work.

Throughout the book are his suggestions in a blue field (titled ‘Tips’) and I found I agreed with most of them (paper charts notwithstanding) and even gave me validation for some of my laziness - if Jimmy Cornell stores his boat with the main left bent to the boom, so can I.  Also, there are lots of quotes from people, some famous, some not.  Only go on trips with people you love. –Ernest Hemingway

There is a long chapter about cruising rallies and JC rightfully takes credit for establishing them as a viable way to cruise. He doesn't explain well how he was able to organize so many of the events that participants of his rallies were able to enjoy but I was envious as I read about the meetings with mayors, governors and kings. Still, it's hard for me to imagine a satisfying circumnavigation in 17 months - we're well into 7 years and we're not finished yet (there's still Antarctica!).

The photographs in the book, of which there are many, are breathtaking. It made me realize that despite the thousands of photographs that we've taken, it hasn't been enough. Perhaps it's the photographs of Antarctica that has me swooning but, regardless, most of the other photos are likely to light a fire under the most sedentary cruiser. 

Granted, I was predisposed to liking the book before I bought it - World Cruising Routes has been a big part of our circumnavigation – but, nonetheless, I found 200,000 Miles to be a worthwhile read, if not great literature. Highly recommended.  Available on amazon.com.

Monday, November 12, 2018

Jamaica


View from Erroll Flynn Marina
While we were still in the Bahamas, were ‘discussing’ our route to Jamaica.  We had wanted to visit Cuba but our insurance carrier specifically excluded coverage for Cuba, Venezuela and Honduras.  There was no argument about whether to transit the Windward Passage but there was ‘discussion’ on whether we should head for Kingston (on the south side of Jamaica) or to Port Antonio on the north shore.  The main advantage, in my point of view, was that Kingston offered a better angle at which to cross the western Caribbean – if we were on the north side, we wouldn’t be able to turn south until we reached the western end of the island, which is about 78°West.  This would mean a close reach all the way to Panama with beam seas.  The other side of the ‘discussion’ was that Kingston was notoriously dangerous for tourists.  In the end, it was ‘decided’ that we’d make landfall at Port Antonio.  On board for this passage was our good friend, Christie, whom we met when Ruthie was in university.

Though the Windward Passage is well known for squeezing the trade winds between Cuba and Haiti, our passage through there was so light that we had to motor most of the way.  Arriving at dawn, we steered into the well-protected harbor of Port Antonio, past the rarely-used cruise ship terminal and into the small but nice Errol Flynn Marina, where the eager-to-please staff helped tie us up to the non-floating concrete docks.  Once the marina office was open, we checked in with them and they made arrangements for Customs and Immigration to come to the boat.  A man on the dock sold us a Jamaican courtesy flag.  The other yachts at the marina were flying country flags from all over the world, a part of cruising that we had missed while in the US and the Bahamas.


The hills surrounding the harbor were dark green with thick tropical jungle and the sounds of construction, crowing roosters, squealing school girls and traffic created a constant din.  We were approached by Famous Man, an elderly man who poled a lashed-together bamboo raft around the marina, taking orders for fresh fruit and fish.  We ordered bananas.  Famous Man had dreadlocks down to his waist and very few teeth.

Once Customs and Immigration had cleared us in, we took the short walk into the center of town and followed our traditional routine that we almost always follow when arriving at a new country:  First, find an ATM that looks relatively safe, second, buy a local SIM for our mobile phones and third, find a grocery store.  The ATM is usually not too difficult but buying a SIM can often be confusing.  The line at the DigiCell store was long and once we made it to the counter, we made few friends in the line behind us as it seemed to take a very long time before we had completed our transaction.  The center of town could have been in any country with a developing economy – few modern buildings and many buildings were in need of repair.  As we walked through the streets, we kind of stuck out among the crowd.  Instead of the laid-back atmosphere we often found in many part of the Caribbean, here it seemed like most people were focused on their tasks.  Still, everyone was very friendly and many people approached us, trying to sell us various things.  Christie bought a couple of home-ripped CDs.  I had several people stop me and look me right in the eye, their heads cocked a little to one side and say, “Are you finding EVERYTHING you’re looking for?”.  I didn’t bother explaining that I come from California, where the ganja is legal and very strong.  Besides, we keep zero cannabis on the boat – it’s too much of a liability in some countries.

Our Lonely Planet guide book for Jamaica said that the very best jerk chicken in all of Jamaica was in Port Antonio and we were able to find the place without trouble.  It was a small, v-shaped building with a small window at which to place an order.  Through this window you could see out behind the building where a large, home-made barbecue was belching smoke and an old, heavily-perspiring man was tending the meats cooking.  The smell kicked our salivary glands into high gear and the chicken was so good that we ordered from this place every day we were in Port Antonio.

The open air market had a fabulous collection of fruits, vegetables, eggs, spices and other odds and ends.  Again, everyone one was very friendly to us, frequently offering us samples and willingly smiling when we asked for a photo.

The marina office arranged a car and driver to take us to Ochos Rios, a wide, shallow river that flows through Jamaica.  Guides pole lashed-together bamboo rafts through the jungle while the tourists sit back.  However, after a while, I asked the guide poling our raft if we could change places.  So, he sat back while I tried to pole us along and I quickly found out that it wasn’t as easy as it looked.  After running us aground, my guide took over.  We stopped for lunch at a planned spot and had a surprisingly good meal of curried goat and vegetables that was heated over small wood fires, the outsides of the pots thick with black soot that had accumulated over the years.
 
Discovery Bay
In order to leave Port Antonio, we still had to clear out with Customs and Immigration, even though we were going to another port in Jamaica.  We had an easy sail over to Discovery Bay (we had cleared out to Montego Bay but stopped for the night in Discovery Bay) and I was a little disappointed that the bay was as rolly as it was.  The loud music blasting from one of the shore-side cantinas didn’t help me appreciate the bay any more.  But we only stayed one night and the next day we sailed into Montego Bay.


Montego Bay Yacht Club has two docks for Med-mooring but it seemed  expensive and a little dodgy at best.  Besides, with Rutea’s davits hanging over the stern, Med-mooring loses a lot of its appeal.  We anchored just off the yacht club but very close to the cruise ship terminal, which was busy with traffic of the behemoth ships.  The yacht club charged us a fee for anchoring.  The following morning we were up early to talk with Chris Parker about our passage to Panama.

Chris Parker runs a weather forecasting service out of Florida for yachts on the East Coast of the US and the Caribbean.  He broadcasts his forecasts on single side-band frequencies and, if you subscribe to his service, you can ask questions of him.  We have been listening to Chris Parker for years and his patience amazes me.  Time and again I have heard boaters call into him and ask for a specific forecast for which he had just described to the previous caller in great detail.  But, Chris, without skipping a beat or his voice betraying any frustration with repeating the same lengthy forecast, goes into the same detail all over again.  He is thorough – almost to a fault.  I waited for an opportunity for the radio traffic to clear so I could ask Chris about our passage to Panama.  We had a good, clear signal and I could hear him thinking.  He paused and then said, “I don’t want to freak you out . . .”.  As long as we’ve been listening to Chris Parker, we had never heard him say those words together.  He went through his forecast for us and ended it by saying, “If I were you, I’d leave sooner rather than later.”  It took Ruthie and me about two seconds to decide that we would leave the following day.  Our friend, Christie, had a flight booked for two days later so she had to scramble to find a hotel for one night.  Ruthie and I began going through our off-shore check list, checking out with Jamaican Customs and Immigration, a quick final provisioning and preparing a first-night-out meal.



We left the following morning, amidst numerous squalls full of thunder and lightning.  Once clear of South Negril Point, the wind filled in from the southeast and the seas built to about 3 meters.  We settled in for the 500+ mile passage.

Monday, August 20, 2018

The Bahamas

Manjack Cay
Ruthie and I had taken refuge at the Charleston Harbor Marina as a strong southeast wind had made virtually all of the anchoring spots untenable, its stratospheric rates notwithstanding.  The wind veered to the northwest making ideal conditions for our passage to the Bahamas except for crossing the Gulf Stream – the river of warm water in the Atlantic Ocean that flows from the Caribbean Sea (not the Gulf of Mexico) up the east coast of the United States at a rate of about four miles per hour and about four billion cubic feet of water per second.  Despite the many eddies and counter-currents, the Gulf Stream flows north and when it meets a wind that has any northerly components, it can develop steep, dangerous seas that must be avoided, especially for a small sailboat.


Charleston
We had subscribed to Chris Parker’s weather forecasting service, it’s available both on line and over our single sideband marine radio, and we had been talking with Chris daily about when a ‘weather window’ would open for us.  After several days of hunkering down, Chris advised us to leave the next day, giving us specific coordinates for crossing the Gulf Stream.  With a modicum of anxiety, we cast off our dock lines and headed out into the Atlantic, placing a high degree of confidence that Chris knew what he was talking about.  As it turned out, it was an easy 370-mile sail, if a little cold, with no significant seas and we wound up having to heave to off the entrance to Spanish Cay to wait for daylight to enter.

It didn’t take us long to discover that we had the wrong anchor for the Bahamas.  The weed-covered sand bottom was almost impenetrable to our 30-kilo Bruce anchor.  After several attempts, I dove into the water with my face mask on to see what was happening while Ruthie tried to back Rutea down and I could see our anchor skipping across the sea bed, refusing to set.  Ultimately, we were forced to tandem anchor – using two Bruce anchors, one shackled to the other with 50 feet of 3/8ths chain.  Even though neither of these anchors would properly set, we knew it would take a substantial wind to cause us to drag with both of them out there.

New Plymouth on Green Turtle Cay
Most countries require that visiting yachts (or vessels of any kind) clear into the country within a short period of time after arrival but since the wind had picked up again, we chose to stay in the protected Crab Cay until the wind had lightened.  Once it did and we made our way south, we were confronted with a long parade of sailboats heading north and west, leaving the hurricane-prone Bahamas for the relative safety of the USA.  We cleared Bahamian Customs and Immigration at one small office in Green Turtle Cay and after paying our US$300 for a cruising permit, we were official.
 
Marsh Harbor, Great Abaco Island
Of the roughly 700 islands that make up the Commonwealth of the Bahamas, the Abacos Islands in the northwest part of the archipelago, the Exumas in the central part and Great Inagua Island at the southeast extreme, only a small percentage are inhabited and many islands are privately owned (Johnny Depp owns one as does Nicholas Cage).  We made our way to Marsh Harbor on Great Abaco Island where we rendezvoused with our good friend, Christie, who had recently sold her bed and breakfast on the Oregon coast.  Freed from the 7/24 demands of being a hotelier, Christie was eager for warmth and downtime, although she arrived at the dinghy dock in the midst of a tropical downpour that had reduced visibility to just a few feet.



We found the charts for the Bahamas to be very accurate but the gin-colored water made depth perception difficult and we had to rely on our depth sounders as much of the water is extremely shallow.  We never really got used to just having twelve inches of water beneath our keel but we still delighted in sailing in such delightful conditions, clear skies, gentle beam reaches and warm water.  Catching a twenty-pound dorado (mahi mahi) on our way from Great Abaco Island to Harbour Island, about 50 miles, made for some delicious sashimi, ceviche and fish tacos.

Hog Cay
Our guide book said that Warderick Wells Cay was not to be missed, however, as it is a marine reserve, you must pick up a mooring and anchoring is not allowed.  As we were advised, we called the reserve headquarters as we approached on the VHF radio and were told that there was no vacancy on any of the inside moorings but we could take the mooring in between Warderick Wells Cay and Hog Cay.  As we approached the mooring, our collective breaths were taken away with the spectacular beauty of the place:  Only one mooring in the crystal-clear water between the two cays and it was ours.  What we didn’t know at the time was that the current screamed through there reaching its peak velocity four times a day.  The mooring was well-built but the load on our mooring line was tremendous.  It felt like we were underway even though we were attached to a mooring.  After two nights, a vacancy became available on the ‘inside’ and we moved over.  While making a payment to the reserve headquarters, we ran into Pete, on the 54-foot catamaran, Downtime.  We had met Pete seven years before when we were crossing the Pacific.  Small world, big ocean.

Many of the people who cruise on sailboats prefer the isolation that can be had while others thrive on being part of the cruising community.  Ruthie and I fall somewhere in the middle.  So many of our most rewarding friendships have developed through our contacts in the cruising community and we feel our lives are richer for it.  What struck both of us was that there wasn’t much of a community among the cruisers until we got to Georgetown, where hundreds of cruising boats gathered.  The town itself was a little sleepy and dusty without much evidence of any unique Bahamian culture but we were able to find some fabulous jerked chicken.

Roseate Spoonbill - Juvenile
Our last stop in the Bahamas was at Great Inagua Island, which is just 50 miles from Cuba.  Morton Salt has a huge operation there and is the largest employer on the island.  They have flooded huge areas as evaporating ponds, which has attracted a wide array of wildlife, mostly birds.  Our guide book mentioned a guide who would drive you around and we contacted him but he referred us to his niece, Tara, whose primary occupation was being a school teacher.  Being a tour guide pays much better than being a school teacher so Tara played hooky for a day and drove us around the island.  Her knowledge of the birds and where to find them was astounding and she was able to spot birds that none of the rest of us could have ever seen.  She drove us into town, introduced us to people and we had a fabulous take-out lunch which we ate by the water’s edge.  It’s about 470 miles from the northwestern tip the Bahama archipelago to Great Inagua Island at the southeastern corner but it was here that we had our most memorable stay.
Matthew Town, Great Inagua Island
Mining Salt
Tara

Flamingos 
Burrowing Owl

Monday, May 7, 2018

RUTEA EARNS HER STRIPES




February 2018

Norfolk Yacht and Country Club, March 1, 2018
Really, we must be crazy.  Who in their right minds leaves Norfolk, Virginia, in the winter time to transit south on the east coast of the United States?  Well, you know…we had wanted to be home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hannukah, New Years, Birthdays and then still have time to cruise the Caribbean before hurricane season.  Who says we can’t have it all?

After arriving back to Rutea’s holiday home in Cobb’s Marina next to Little Creek Navy Sub Base in early February, the first thing we needed to make sure was working was the heater!  Icy winds blew in off of the Chesapeake as we readied Rutea to launch back into the water.  Living on the hard is hard, but living on the hard in the winter time is even harder!  Remember, you can’t use the head on the hard and in freezing temps the climb down the 14 foot ladder and trek across the boat yard in the middle of the night is a long and arduous journey!

Of course we were watching the weather the entire launch process and knowing that March comes in like a lion we were prepared to watch some heavy weather pass by.  What we didn’t know is that this year March not only came in like a lion, it would go out like a lion as well.  We were ready to go, tired of being in a marina, tired of provisioning, tired of the ‘to do’ list, even more tired of the ‘to buy’ list so we had the bright idea of departing even in not-so-perfect weather, avoid Cape Hatteras and the Atlantic and head south down the Intra Coastal Waterway (ICW).

As we were anchoring in the Lafayette River outside of the Norfolk Yacht Club our first night out, we heard the Coast Guard calling freighters one by one, name by name.  We thought that very unusual as we had never heard the likes of that before so we decided to ‘lurk’ or follow one of the conversations on the VHF radio.  We were shocked to hear the Coast Guard telling each freighter one by one, that they were ORDERED by the Commandant of the Coast Guard to deploy storm-rated anchoring tackle as there was a major storm system approaching.  Now we knew that there was heavy weather approaching and we were in a well protected anchorage but we looked at each other and asked, ‘do we have storm-rated anchoring equipment’?  Neal decided to call the Dock Master at the Yacht Club and render his opinion about the holding in the anchorage and after talking with him, he told us he would prefer it if we came into the yacht club until the storm passed and he would offer us a port of refuge for hazardous conditions.  Bless his heart!  It turned out to be a near perfect storm, a real nor’easter which turned into a weather bomb for D.C., New York, Boston and the New England coast.  Rutea took waves over the bow at the dock and after two days of winds up to 40 knots was completely encrusted in salt.
Great Lock on the Virginia Cut
Leaving a day or two after the blow and heading out past mile marker 1 on the ICW what we realized after reading about it in the guide, is what ‘wind-driven tides, depths and currents’ means.  The ICW is notoriously shallow.  It is perfect for power boats, shallow draft sail boats and kayaks!  The center of the waterway is supposed to be dredged to ten feet but there is constant silting and the Army Core of Engineers has run out of money to continue to dredge every shoaling spot.  On top of this, that infamous nor’easter blew, literally blew water OUT of some places in the water way and INTO other places.  For example, the locks on the Dismal Swamp route (inviting, eh?) were closed because of water levels too high.  On our Virginia Cut route the lock was only operating at low tide or until enough water ebbed out and when we arrived and called to the Locktender, he told us to just anchor somewhere because he didn’t know how long it would be (Hours? Days?) until the lock would reopen. Upon transiting the Great Lock, the Locktender told us that the drop was five feet higher than usual and he didn’t know how long it would take to get back to normal. 


Surprise, surprise!  On the south side of the lock wind had blown water further south and all depths were more shallow than charted.  That meant hand steering and watching every ripple in the water, wondering if it was a shoal, a stump, or a rock. It also meant it was super challenging to find a place to anchor our 6.5 ft. draft boat that was not in the center of the waterway which you cannot anchor in even at night because there is tug boat traffic.  Next challenge- Currituck Sound.  Sounds are wide open, shallow, swampy areas.  Beautiful, remote and wild even in the best of conditions a boater does not want to wander outside of the water way or even pass another large vessel going the opposite direction for fear of running aground in very soft, sticky mud.  But who knew that a nor’easter could literally blow water out of the Sound and make it even more shallow and that the water could take months to return or at least not return before a southerly wind would push it back in!

Frost on the Cap Rail
Miles of meandering waterways took days and days to transit.  Of course having to time lift bridges, swing bridges, and bascule bridges made the going even slower and by the time we got to Georgetown, South Carolina, we had covered 410 miles and it had taken us eighteen days.  Okay, so that’s 410 miles, 3 lift bridges, 7 bascule bridges, 9 swing bridges, 1 lock, 1 hard grounding (we don’t want to talk about it) and 28 fixed bridges (many of which are only 65 feet tall and Rutea’s mast is 62 ft.).  All in all, it was a fantastic but intense experience.  An experience we are glad we had but probably would not want to repeat- at least in a deep draft boat.  The surprising part is that inland waterway traveling could be as challenging as any of the other sailing we have done!  The interesting part is that we still learn something new every day.  Fortunately, even after 18 days in the ICW, Rutea does not wear the brown beard on the bow and water line that stains most ICW boats due to the muddy water but she earned an even better stripe which was once again getting us safely to another port in another new (to us) part of the world, through unknown waters.
Georgetown, South Carolina