february 2 2007 : charlestown, nevis
The passage to Nevis was just a quick overnighter. Our first since the Atlantic. We really prefer an overnight passage to an all day race in the heat of the sun. It was an easy downwind sail most of the night but in the morning conditions changed and the wind picked up to 30 knots on the beam, making for speedy times, but a lot of banging. In the middle of the night my temporary mainsail fix became more temporary than I had hoped and we once again found ourselves without a main, and still no screecher. For now that means nothing but a jib and a motor. Not exactly the ideal setup for a sailboat, but you gotta work with what you got.
After not having checked in at Guadeloupe we figured we’d better go see the customs man here in Nevis. Especially since we saw that they had a Port Patrol boat cruising around the harbor. It’s the first island we’ve seen in the Caribbean that actually had a patrol boat of any kind. I headed in and completed the paperwork, with just a small fib explaining what I’d been doing since leaving Dominica, our last port of clearance. The charter group talking to the other customs officer was having a much harder time explaining their lack of clearance papers from St. Martin. Apparently he was unmoved by their explanation that their refrigeration was broken and the charter company was too busy to tell them they needed to get it. All I could think was, Rookies.
The anchorage here is great. Sandy, shallow, and just off of a long, mostly deserted beach. In the afternoon we made a precision beach break dinghy landing and headed for Sunshines. This is one of those semi-famous beach bars the Caribbean is full of. We downed his signature Killer Bee and a few Caribs before, two hours after ordering, our food arrived. A booze cruise had made a full scale invasion of the beach, the bar, and the toilets, and in the process had brought the kitchen to a standstill. After lunner we went back to the boat, grabbed a couple more cocktails and went back in to the deserted beach in front of Bum for the rest of the afternoon. Ali was in bed by seven, still claiming that it was because of a lack of sleep from the night before. Rookie.
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Today we spent putzing around town. It’s a small, one main road town, with a few shops for the tourists, a surprisingly large number of banks, a couple of grocery stores, and a handful of scruffy looking restaurants. On the docks were the local fisherman cleaning their days catch, obviously the mahi mahi are running strong around here. I have been extremely lazy as far as the fishing goes lately, but after seeing that, I might have to throw the lines out again.
We grabbed lunner from the Chinese joint in town that was overflowing with locals. I guess that might have been because of the fact that the restaurant was on the right side of the road to get shade and had a veranda overlooking the main square. Hardly anyone was actually eating, but they were drinking beer and yelling down the road to their friends as they passed by. If there is one thing that never changes anywhere in the world it is Chinese food. There is at least one restaurant in every village/town/city, every menu has 135 items listed on it, you order by number, and it always looks and tastes the same. And you thought McDonald’s was standardized.
february 4 2007 : oranjestad, st. eustatius (statia)
After a couple of days in Nevis we decided yesterday to move on over to Bassaterre on St. Kitts, the next island over. There were a few things we wanted to see there and it seemed like a better bet to see the Super Bowl the next day. We had a nice sail over but when we arrived we found that the anchorage was getting blasted by waves. There was plenty of protection from the wind but there was a nasty swell rolling through and we had big whitecaps smashing into us. We knew right away that wasn’t going to work for our plans.
There was a small marina but we really weren’t in the mood for that, so we decided to give St. Kitts a skip and see if we could clear out and get up to Statia instead. It was noon on a Saturday but I went in to see if I could find a customs officer to clear us out anyway. The marina office gave them a call for me and five minutes later customs was picking me up in their car. Ten minutes after that I had paid the $4 overtime fee and had our clearance in hand.
Back in the bay I found Ali and the boat where I left them, still bouncing all over the place, so we got the boat ready and took off right away. It seems that every passage we make in the Caribbean gets better. The farther north we go the more the islands curve around to the west, making each stop a little more downwind. We had a very nice motorsail, seeing as that is our only option at the moment, and made it to Statia just an hour before dark. The cruising guide said there were 15 Marine Park moorings laid right outside the town so all the way over we figured it would be a race to see if there were any left. We were surprised then to find no boats here, and almost no moorings. It doesn’t look like the Marine Park is doing their job any more. We spotted one yellow mooring right up in front of the batch of local boat moorings scattered around the small bay and tied up.
So this Super Bowl Sunday we find ourselves on a Dutch island with one town and a population of under 3000 people. Should be no problem finding a big game party with those stats.
february 5 2007 : statia
Yesterday we took a walk around Statia. A dog from the dive shop joined us and the three of us set off to the top of the cliffs where the town is perched. Oranjested is a really scenic place. There is a fort hovering over the bay at the edge of the cliff and we spent some time walking around there enjoying the views of Bum down below us. It seems to be yet another one of these forts that didn’t see much action and looks like it could still be in use today.
Statia’s big claim to fame as far as Americans are concerned is that they were the first foreign country to recognize the new United States of America back in 1776 when they returned the salute of an American ship that had sailed into the harbor. Consequently Britain came in and destroyed the place five years later. There were numerous plaques around the fort commemorating the events that took place back then. Our new dive dog laid patiently in the shade while we read them and took pictures.
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The rest of town takes about ten minutes to traverse. It’s scenic, with a lot of very old buildings, colorful wood houses, and a big stone church hundreds of years old with all of its walls still perfectly in tact. But the best thing about Statia is that you can walk around and see all of these things by yourself. There doesn’t seem to be another person on the island. The occasional local yes, but that’s about all.
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In the afternoon we realized that seeing the Super Bowl that night wasn’t looking too promising unless we got a hotel room. So we checked in to a great little place right across the street from where the boat was moored. There are actually only two or three little boutique style hotels on the island and I don’t think they are used to drop in customers. The girl at the reception desk seemed awfully confused when we walked in and asked if they had any rooms available. It got even more confusing for her when we asked to see the room and then started flipping through the channels looking for CBS. No point getting the room if we couldn’t watch the game. The game turned out to be disappointing, but the night off the boat was well worth it.
After lying in bed until the maids started pounding on the door we went back out to Bum. The boat project of the day was to strip the windlass apart, clean it up, and get it running smooth again. This had been a project from hell back in Turkey, but went much smoother this time around, and within a couple of hours we had her back together.
Today was probably the first full day of clouds and rain we’ve had here in the Caribbean. We’ve had a lot of weather like that but it always passes quickly and within an hour we are roasting in the sun again. Today it stuck around and rained on us all day long. Besides the windlass about the only thing we accomplished was to head back to shore to the Statia version of a beach bar for some great food and cold Caribs. At this point Statia was feeling like the ultimate getaway.
Tonight our quiet bay was invaded by some sort of rally. Fifteen boats from Moorings filled with six men apiece came roaring in all at once, dropping anchors all over the free mooring field. One boat inched alongside of us and was just about to drop their anchor when I yelled over to the captain that we were on a mooring. He looked sort of confused and then pointed just a little farther in front of his boat, asking, “Is right there okay?” I said, “No, we’re on a mooring. You can’t anchor that close to us or we’ll hit.” He still had a confused look on his face and finally said, “I’m sorry I don’t understand what you mean?”
I explained to him that he couldn’t anchor one boat length away from us because as soon as the wind shifted his boat would hit ours, as we were on a mooring and wouldn’t be moving with the wind. I still don’t think he understood the concept, but he did finally move away. He must be one seriously dedicated racing sailor skipper to have never figured out the difference between anchoring and mooring.
february 6 2007 : statia
We had one of those really nice island days today, and Statia has cemented itself as our favorite Caribbean island so far. Things were looking up right away this morning when the rally boats blew their horns and disappeared over the horizon before I had cleared the sleep from my eyes. After a couple of hours enjoying the quiet of the bay we packed a bag with one small bottle of water and the camera and went hiking. Yes, hiking. We hate hiking and I’m still not sure what came over us, but we set out to climb the volcano.
The hike took us through town and then gradually uphill. It took close to two hours to get to the top and was solid trees the whole time, so no views of the ocean. There were however a couple of snakes and tons of soldier crabs. They looked like big hermit crabs and they were pretty funny because as soon as they heard you coming they would crawl up inside of their shell. As soon as they were inside, because they were so big, the shell would tip over and would start rolling downhill. We watched as some of these poor crabs rolled down slopes for 50 feet before finally hitting a tree and stopping.
We finally reached the intersection at the top of the volcano. To the right was a muddy trail leading into the bottom of the volcano. To the left was our trail leading another twenty minutes to the panoramic lookout affording us views of Saba, St. Kitts, and Nevis. But not today. In front of us was a TRAIL CLOSED sign. We stepped over the sign assuming that they surely didn’t mean closed to us, but ten feet farther on we couldn’t distinguish a trail at all. Ten more feet and we heard buzzing. We turned around and saw a tree with thousands of bees flying in and out of it and all around us. At that point we were pretty sure our grand hiking adventure had ended. And we were right, it had. Without having caught even a glimpse of the panoramic 360 degree ocean view from the top of the volcano we strolled back down to the bottom.
In town we headed straight for Super Burger, where we had, what else, a super burger. This Dutch island is definitely importing the good beef. Milkshakes and Caribs put the finishing touches on our big day of conquering mountains.
Finally back at the boat we grabbed our snorkels and went for a swim. Right in front of our boat is a huge old anchor, a few links of chain, and also a big cannon. There is also an old stone wall which extends on to shore here and is where back in the 1700’s the seawall was built and all the merchants set up shop to handle the obscene amounts of goods that passed through here when Statia was the only free port in the Caribbean. Right up near shore we came across a turtle not much bigger than a frisbee just swaying back and forth with the waves. We hovered next to him for a while before finally leaving him to do whatever it was he was doing.
Tonight the bay is back to normal, with just two other boats anchored near the back ready for an early morning departure. Nobody seems to go ashore here. It’s great. If you can’t tell, Statia has provided a much needed break for us from the constant deluge of sailboats. We’ve got the BVIs coming up, we needed a mental reset first and this place was it.
february 8 2007 : saba
This morning we cruised over to Saba, a quick 20 mile hop away. We don’t even bother checking the weather anymore here in the Caribbean. It never changes, 15-20 knots from between NE and SE. Making it pretty much perfect for anywhere we are heading.
Saba is a cool looking island. Coming from Statia it looks like a perfect cone shooting straight out of the sea. The first half of it seems to rise vertically out of the water, nothing but steep cliffs disappearing into breaking waves, no beaches at all. We motored alongside of it past a bunch of dive boat moorings until we got to the heavy duty Park Service moorings which are laid out for cruisers. There isn’t another person in sight, we’ve got another island to ourselves.
Our mooring is directly in front of The Ladder, which is a staircase rising straight up over 800 steps from the waters edge to some point high above on the cliffs where a little customs house still sits. The ladder has been here for 100’s of years and used to be the only spot on the island to get ashore from. Anyway, we’d have to say this is the best anchorage we’ve visited so far. There is no beach, no swaying palm trees, and no cruisers, but there are dramatic cliffs, crashing waves, turtles swimming around, and seclusion.
february 9 2007 : saba
This afternoon we finally ventured off the boat and on to Saba. There is a tiny port about two miles away where you can check in and then climb a couple more miles up through the hills to a little town. But we didn’t feel like going through all of that so we just decided to go check out The Ladder. That seemed like a modest enough goal. A quick look over at shore showed that there were some serious breaking waves, but we donned our snorkel gear and headed in anyway.
We made the swim over to the rock covered shore and in between waves we stopped and tried to get our fins off quickly to make the scramble out of the water and up over the boulders. We were both sitting there slipping off our fins when the next wave came barrelling in. It was clear we weren’t going to be able to get out quick enough so we both spun around and tried to dive back through and underneath it. That didn’t work though, the wave sucked all of the water out around us and then smoked us by breaking on top of our heads. Ali got washed on top of me as we both got knocked back across the rocks. I came up sputtering and minus both my flippers and my snorkel, though I did still have the camera and my mask. Ali came out of the water like a tough guy with all her gear still in hand and we walked up to safety. After a few minutes of watching the shore we found both missing fins, one of each of ours, somehow Ali had ended up with a mismatched pair in her hand after the pummeling.
The climb up the stairway was nice, and provided some great views of the island and the boat. We hiked up to the old abandoned customs house thinking that was the top, but a sign there said we were only one third of the way up. The trail disappeared into the trees from there though and after a few minutes more we realized we wouldn’t be able to see a thing farther up. The best thing about the view from the top was that we could see exactly where we should re-enter the water. This time going back in we found a much calmer area farther down the coast and made a flawless entry for the swim back to the boat.
february 11 2007 : anegada, british virgin islands (BVIs)
There wasn’t much wind while in Saba, and no waves, but the swell grew by the hour. One day I headed for the rocks at the corner of the island that were supposed to have some great caves, fish, and coral. When I got over there I was actually too afraid to get out of the dinghy. The swell was absolutely slamming the rocks and it didn’t seem like any place you’d want to be swimming around in. So with that we decided to pack up and head for the BVIs.
It was an overnight motor to the BVIs, and with no wind it was a beautiful one. There is no better sleep than the one we get as we glide smoothly through the calm water with no noise but the quiet drone of the engine. On those nights it is hard to give up the bed when we get woken for our shift.
By morning the BVIs were in sight. And what a sight it was. The horizon was lined with white sails. A procession of them ran uninterrupted between Virgin Gorda and Anegada, our destination. For some this is a vision they see in their dreams. For us it is in our nightmares.
If there is one thing that we don’t like about cruising, it is crowded anchorages. Ali simply doesn’t relax and can not sleep when there are boats right next to us. She may be a bit of a worry wart, but that’s just the way it is. And obviously when Ali isn’t sleeping she isn’t happy. And when Ali’s not happy, I’m not happy. It’s a vicious circle.
But hey, we knew this coming into the BVIs, so we can’t really complain about it. Instead we just try and work around it. In Anegada that was simple. It is a flat reef island surrounded by shallow water and a few coral heads. Again, the cruising guide only lists one tiny area as an anchorage, right in front of the beach restaurants. It’s a crowded area full of moorings and people trying to anchor in the midst of all of it.
There is a marked channel leading into the anchorage, where there are about fifty boats packed in, and at least another ten boats filing in behind us. As we were motoring through the channel I was staring straight ahead at miles and miles of perfect pale blue waters that were completely boat free. As we came to the green buoy indicating we are to make a sharp left turn, I kept the boat pointed right where it was. The water was seven feet deep over a fluffy sand bottom, the sun was high over our heads making any coral heads easy to see, and we could chose any spot over ten square miles in which to drop the anchor. Our first anchorage in the BVIs and we are all alone. Man are we good. That’s the vision we should see in our dreams.
Once ashore, the reality of being in the ultimate charter boat playground hit us. We sidled up to one of the beach bars and plopped down four bucks a beer, a 300% increase since leaving the little visited island of Statia just one hundred miles away. We then overheard as a charter boat came up to pay for a mooring. Twenty-five bucks. Nowhere in the world had we seen a mooring cost more than ten dollars a night. The cheapest food on the bar menu was still way out of our league. For those on a one week holiday budget I’m sure it’s of no consequence, but for the two of us, accustomed to living off of beach bar food and beer, this was not a good sign.
After just two beers and no food we went for a walk inland. Just down the sandy road there was a turnoff leading to a giant salt pond where there were reported to be six foot lizards and a big flock of pink flamingos. There was a big sign warning us not to touch the animals and we were getting excited that this place was going to be like a big open air zoo, maybe there would even be koala bears and giraffes wandering around. There weren’t.
The salt pond was a bust, no flamingos, no lizards, and definitely no giraffes. We walked down the dirt roads for a while slowly heading back in the direction of the boat. I had started to believe that our tans had reached their maximum darkness, but the sun here cooked us a whole ‘nother shade darker. It was hot. Back at the boat we spent some time in the water cooling down before pouring a couple of beers and eating mac and cheese, also known as fettuccini a’la bumfuzzle, cost $1.99.
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february 12 2007 : anegada
Looking at our chart of Anegada I determined that the island was only a mile and a half wide. We had seen a sign at the bar the day before stating that the shuttle to the beaches on the north side of the island cost eight dollars a person. For a mile and a half ride? I don’t think so. So Ali and I grabbed our snorkels, masks, half a bag of Wheat Thins and set out for Loblolly Bay, reported to be one of the best bays in the islands.
We took the dinghy through a reef and got ourselves to about the area where I figured the road across the island would be. We tied her up in the mangroves, climbed the bank, and started down the road. After about two miles walking along the long part of the island we still hadn’t come across a road heading inland across the mile and a half width. Another two miles passed and we were really starting to wonder what was up. There wasn’t a soul in sight, we did however see the flamingos. They were perched, as flamingos always are, on the far side of a salt pond where you could just make out the bright pink feathers and nothing else.
We finally arrived at a fork in the road and took off to the left, surely this was our cross island road. A mile farther along we came to a sign advertising a restaurant and saying, Welcome to Loblolly Bay. Alright, we had to be close now. The road in front of us looked like a never ending series of power line poles though. We trudged forward, the road turned to dirt, our necks to red, and on and on we went. Finally we came to a construction guy moving dirt from one side of the road to the other. He gave us a strange look and when we asked him where we were he said, “I was just going to ask you the same thing.” He laughed at that and we told him we were looking for Loblolly Bay. “Boy that sure is a long walk.” You don’t say? “Well you’re almost there now, just keep going straight.” We thanked him and continued on.
A little farther down the road a car came by and pulled to a stop. Without a word the old man inside beckoned me over and then reached out to me with a bottle of water in his hand. He must have thought we were crazy walking all over the island. We thanked him profusely, seeing as how we hadn’t thought to pack a bottle of water ourselves for our short walk to the beach bar, and continued on. Finally, after two hours of searing heat we arrived at the Big Bamboo on Loblolly Bay.
The bay was beautiful. The fringing coral reef was just a hundred yards off shore and had huge surf pounding up against it. Inside the reef the water was calm, clear, shallow, and chock full of coral. Swimming around the bay were tons of fish, and not just the normal little reef fish, there were plenty of big dinner plate fish too. I had a Jack swim up to me and practically put his lips on my mask. The bar was set back in the trees but they had lined the beach with nice little palapas and chairs where we lounged around for a couple of hours cooling down from our walk.
Around one o’clock Ali asked, “Should we walk down the beach to Cow Wreck Bay?” There was supposed to be a nice little beach bar there as well, and from looking at our crude hand drawn map of the island in the guidebook it didn’t look like it was far away. What were we thinking?
The beach was incredible, totally deserted, white sand as far as you could see, and plenty of miscellaneous detritus washed up on shore to keep us entertained. A person could walk along that beach and load up enough nets and fishing buoys to outfit a whole fleet of fishing boats. We walked and walked along a beach unspoiled by others footprints. After an hour of this we could see a couple of buildings in the distance. By now we were stopping every five minutes to dip ourselves in the water in an attempt to cool off. Somehow the buildings that we could see took another full hour to reach. I climbed up the sand to have a look at them and found four tiny abandoned holiday homes. There was still nothing down the beach as far as I could see.
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Just then I heard a generator start up. People! The first signs of life in two hours. I called Ali up and we walked around one of the homes to find two men working on some plumbing. They were busy so I waited. When they looked up I asked them, “How do we get back to the yacht anchorage?” They said, “Just go out to the road and take a right and follow it all the way around.” I then asked, “How long a walk is that?” That’s when they really stopped what they were doing and looked up at us. “You’re walking?”
Yep, we must truly have been the first people to have ever walked this island. Turns out there is no road across the narrow middle section, just a long winding road around the perimeter, mostly deserted, about 15 miles around. The two guys were just about finished with their work for the day and said they’d give us a lift. Without knowing it, they may have saved our lives, certainly our sanity. At least we saved ourselves thirty-two bucks though right?
february 13 2007 : tortola, british virgin islands (BVIs)
Today we packed up and sailed to Tortola. It felt as if we had joined a yacht rally. There were at least twenty boats in a tight pack all headed the same direction, with dozens more dotting the horizon all around us. This place is truly the sailing capital of the world. We’ve never seen anything like this before. And to be honest I don’t think either of us ever wants to again.
Our destination for the night was Guana Island. It was a pretty, relatively uncrowded bay, and after dropping the anchor I found out why. The bottom was a solid block of coral. Our anchor had just caught an edge on one chunk, but it was clear that this place wasn’t going to do as an overnight anchorage. So we were off again, headed to Cane Garden Bay.
The guidebook had listed this as an excellent anchorage, so we were a little surprised when we came in and found the entire bay crowded with moorings. There was no place left to anchor, and after nearly running aground trying to find a spot, we finally gave in and grabbed a mooring ourselves.
Cane Garden Bay is a nice enough little spot. Far from the postcard picture perfect bay the guidebook described, but nice nonetheless. There are a few beach bar restaurants lining the shore, and the beach is covered from one end to the other with row upon row of beach chairs for the cruise ship passengers that visit. It’s got that made for holiday feel to it, but at night it’s nice to sit on the boat and listen to the live calypso music float out over the water.
february 16 2007 : jost van dyke, british virgin islands (BVIs)
We spent a lazy couple of days in Cane Garden Bay and met up with another couple who are just starting out on their circumnavigation. It’s kind of weird being the old salts now. We did the Tortola bar circuit with them, hitting Quito’s Gazebo, Bomba’s Surf Shack, and Pusser’s, before finally getting some grub to soak up some of those Painkillers, the BVIs national drink. We had a great night and it was fun hearing what another novice couple had to say about the adventure they were in for.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t tell any more bad anchoring stories so I’ll leave that part out. The best part of the story anyway was when the Speedo wearing guy looked over and wagged his finger slowly back and forth at us, as if to say, “Ahh, you silly American children on your silly little charter boat, you know nothing.” The story didn’t end there. However, we did convince him to move, but that’s all I’m saying until the statute of limitations runs out. Merde.
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Today we hopped over to White Bay on Jost Van Dyke. This island is much more laid back than Tortola, but no less crowded in the boat department. We managed to score about the best, and only, anchoring spot left in the bay in just six feet of crystal clear water with reef on two sides of us and a friends boat directly behind. This couple had been following the website a couple of years back when they were still slaving away at work. Now they’re spending the next few years hanging out in the Caribbean.
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There is a bar on the beach here that actually ran on the honor system, grab your own beers out of the fridge and pay for them at the box. We met some great people on the beach having a little going away party for themselves and then had dinner at the Soggy Dollar. There is not a bay in the BVIs that doesn’t have a famous beach bar on it.
The BVIs were certainly not our cup of tea. There’s no doubt that it is a great place to charter a boat for a week with a bunch of friends on unlimited week long holiday budgets. For us though, the boat crowded bays are simply too much. It’s amazing just how different cruisers and charterers can view a place. It must be the mindset of being on vacation on someone else’s boat versus this being a long term lifestyle. We heard the same thing from the other cruisers we ran into.
I’m sure everyone who has come here on holiday is thinking that we should have gone here or there, and we shouldn’t have missed this or that, but whatever, we just weren’t feeling it. Anegada was nice simply because it was so easy to get out of the herd, but the charter boats can keep the rest of the place.
february 18 2007 : isla culebrita, spanish virgin islands
We’re getting to the point that we don’t even like the idea of sailing for eight hours in a day. So to split the eight hour trip to the Spanish Virgin Islands in half we stopped and spent the night on the north side of St. Thomas. It was like a different world.
Just twelve miles from Jost Van Dyke and there wasn’t another sailboat in sight. The bay was huge, over a mile deep and a half mile across with anchoring in shallow water absolutely anywhere. It was great. Man, I’ve become a recluse on this trip. Maybe we’ll move to Montana, live up in the woods, and collect guns after all of this traveling. But for that to work, our patch of woods would need to have a Taco Bell on it. Not likely.
We spent a quiet night there before heading out in the morning for Isla Culebrita, a tiny speck of an island a mile away from the bigger island of Culebra in the Spanish Virgin Islands. On our way over we noticed an amazing number of sport fishing boats headed in towards the bay there. By the time we got there and came around the corner into the bay there were at least 50 of them lined up stern to the shore. It was weekend party time, Puerto Rican style. We somehow managed to pull right up and grab a park service mooring. It was only 11 a.m. but there was nothing else to be done but to pour a drink and join the party.
Throughout the day we noticed that nearly everyone was wearing life preservers in their dinghies. We hadn’t seen a life preserver of any sort on anybody in at least a couple of years so this struck us as a little odd at first, until we remembered that we were essentially back in U.S. waters. Soon we saw why everybody was complying with the laws, first a big boat full of police cruised slowly through the bay, then a while later a Department of Natural Resources boat came in and started boarding boats at random. I’m really hoping that we don’t get boarded by the USCG at any point since there is no doubt a long list of infractions to be found on Bum.
At four o’clock the sound of anchor windlasses signaled the mass exodus. Within the hour there was nothing but three sailboats left in the bay. Now, at six o’clock there isn’t a sound besides the lapping of the waves on the deserted beach just ten yards from the boat. Pretty nice.
february 20 2007 : isla culebra, spanish virgin islands
The next morning we woke up to the sound of more powerboats. It was Monday now and we hadn’t expected anybody to be around, but in they came. A quick look at the guidebook confirmed that it was indeed a holiday, Presidents’ Day in fact. Any and all holidays pass pretty well unnoticed on our boat. The crowd this day was much mellower and there were a lot fewer of them. Again, by four o’clock they had all upped anchor and disappeared, this time leaving us completely alone.
Conditions changed quickly though, and at eight this morning we had to get out of there in a hurry. Rain had shown up and the winds had shifted, bringing with it a big swell that was trapping us in the horseshoe shaped bay. The pass through the reefs to get out wasn’t complicated, but with the huge seas it was a little unnerving. The shallow coral areas were easy to see by the breaking waves, but we had to motor over a few spots that were only ten feet deep with the swell heaving and threatening at any second to begin breaking. After clearing the mile long pass, we were out in the open and running downwind.
We made our way to Dewey on the island of Culebra and grabbed a free mooring right outside of town. As of right now it is still pouring rain and we haven’t left the boat. However with absolutely nothing to eat onboard, rain or not we’ll be heading in this afternoon.
february 22 2007 : isla culebra
Just hanging out in Culebra the last couple of days, eating the best, and cheapest, food we’ve had in quite a while. We also managed to get some emails sent off to try and get some of our boat projects taken care of. The first was to Nance and Underwood, the riggers who installed our battcar system back in Florida. We weren’t really sure what they’d do for us after 30,000 miles of use, but their response was quick. They said, “Hmm, never seen that before. We’ll send you out all the replacement parts you need today.” And they did, for free. Don’t get service like that very often. The second was to a Lewmar dealer, we sent him a picture of our broken hatch hinge. His response, “Hmm, in all my years in the business I’ve never seen one of those break.” He sent out a new one too, though this one we had to pay for. Seems we’ve got a knack for breaking things that simply don’t break.
We still haven’t managed to clear in to the country either, which is starting to get a little worrisome. This is supposed to be a really easy process for U.S. boats. All we have to do is call customs and they’ll either say “Okay,” or “We’re coming out to see you.” Usually just “okay” though. Anyway, it is amazing how complicated the world is becoming for those of us without cell phones. We went to town and found that the only pay phone is broken, though we did find a quarter which I was pretty excited about. Then we had to ask to use the phone at the bar where we were looked upon with undisguised suspicion. Why would anybody need to use the phone, why don’t they just use their cell phone?
Of course nobody answered at customs. Now after giving up on the “easy” phone call idea I decided to just hike on over to the customs office at the airport ten minutes away. When I got there I found that the office door was locked despite the sign stating their office hours were suppose to be now. There was a helpful sign with the phone number to call though, so I decided to try again. Just ten feet away was a pay phone. On it was taped a sign, OUT OF ORDER. It sucks because we really just want to declare our ten kilos of coke and be on our way.
february 23 2007 : isla culebra
The next morning I finally found Homeland Security at work. Rosa was quietly playing a game of solitaire when I came in and seemed happy to have some company. I explained to her that no we did not have a customs decal on our boat and that was because we had sailed away from Florida back in 2003. Her demeanor changed a bit at that revelation and I suddenly became a suspected drug dealer. “Do you have more than $10,000 in cash on the boat?” “How did you get the money for this trip?” “Are you the owner of the boat?” It struck me as I was answering her that these were actually the first three questions we hear when we meet a cruiser for the first time.
After giving me a stern lecture for not calling her from Culebrita, despite the fact it is a deserted island and I don’t have a cell phone, (“How could you sail around the world without a phone?”). I received my clearance number and was officially cleared in to America’s 51st state.
Culebra is a nice little place and we liked the small town of Dewey. Its got a strong expat presence but sort of a grittier local feel to it at the same time. The bay isn’t the most picturesque, but it is very well protected which is obvious by the number of boats anchored around the bay that clearly haven’t moved in months, if not years.
Today we were sitting at a restaurant along the water watching a pelican do some fishing nearby. If you’ve ever seen a pelican fish you’ll understand that it isn’t exactly the most graceful display in the animal kingdom. Obviously a tourist seated near us had never seen this before. “Oh my! Honey, that bird just crashed. He started to take off but then the wind caught him and he crashed right back in to the water. Oh no, it just happened again.” Now it was a pretty windy day, but I would seriously doubt any bird would have had trouble flying in it. I figured the husband would see it and set her straight but instead he said, “Golly, that one over there just crashed too. Maybe those birds are just too big to fly in this weather.” We didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth. Besides, their friends will be amazed to hear the story of Culebra’s Crashing Birds.
february 25 2007 : vieques, spanish virgin islands
Vieques is the other big Spanish Virgin Island and is just a short sail south of Culebra. It’s also where for years the U.S. Navy practiced their bombing. The locals didn’t care for that too much so they staged a whole bunch of protests and I believe the Navy has finally given up the practice. Now they are in the process of trying to clear the island of tons of unexploded ordinance. We actually met one of the Navy bomb experts at the bar the other night and he tried to scare us with stories of people setting off bombs just by looking at them wrong. So when we got to our anchorage I immediately jumped in and started scouring the bottom looking for some big brass souvenirs to take home. I didn’t find any, but Ali and I did snorkel around and enjoy the bright yellow starfish and conch crawling all over the sand. The bay was beautiful, about two miles of shallow water protected by a reef, and totally empty.
After a nice night there we moved a few miles down the coast to Puerto Ferro, one of two famous bioluminescent bays on the islands of Vieques. This was a small bay with a tiny entrance as shallow as five feet in places. We had the place to ourselves. The water was sort of green and wasn’t all that great for swimming, but we were there for the night show anyway.
We’ve seen bioluminescent displays hundreds of times, always while we are underway. Most often the best displays were when the prop wash would come swirling out from the back of the boat. We could watch for hours as the bright green balls of light slipped behind us. Occasionally we’d get lucky and on a really dark night be joined by dolphins that would leave perfect glowing trails of green in the darkness behind them. Anyway, the point is that we’ve seen the stuff, just never had the chance to swim in it ourselves.
After dark we went outside and shook the dinghy line around in the water a bit, but didn’t see anything. We waited another hour and tried again, still nothing. There was a half moon out and it wasn’t all that dark, so after a few hours we gave up and went to bed.
Around four o’clock I woke up and decided to go have one last look. The moon had set and it was very dark now. I lifted the line to the dinghy again, gave it a swirl, and watched as an explosion of green light came off it. Ali came outside for a look as I jumped in for a swim. It was awesome.
I believe, but don’t hold me to it, that the green lights are a defense mechanism that these microscopic organisms give off when they are disturbed. So when I jumping into the middle of them, I lit up. Underwater I could watch the lights emanate from my fingertips as I swam along. My fingers looked like the end of a magician’s wand, or like the fairy dust in a cartoon movie. It was a pretty cool experience. One that can only truly be appreciated off the back of your own boat anchored in your own bay. To me this was what cruising was supposed to be about.
february 26 2007 : puerto patillas, puerto rico
From Vieques we motored over to the main island, Puerto Rico. Along the way we had probably our coolest dolphin experience of the trip. A group of bottlenose dolphins joined us and were gathering around the front of the boat. We were standing there watching them when I noticed two of them up in front of us a little bit acting strange. They seemed to be climbing all over each other. Then as we were watching, one of them suddenly stood straight up out of the water. He was looking straight at us and was sticking ramrod straight up in the air almost to his tail. He looked like one of those show dolphins who stands up and then swims backward around the pool with a beach ball on his nose. Now that would have been something. He seemed to hold that pose forever, but as the boat came up on him he flopped back down and swam off.
After that I grabbed the camera, but there was no repeat performance. The other thing about this group of dolphins is that they were huge. We think they must have been pregnant because their bodies looked more like pilot whales than dolphins.
We stopped for the night in Puerto Patillas which was a funky little local seaside hangout. The park was partying and there were a few restaurants scattered along the road. The bay itself was sort of tricky to get in to, the charts were terrible and there was plenty of coral to watch out for, but once we got in close we were able to drop anchor in just seven feet of water. We were once again the only sailboat in sight, and actually there were only two local fishing boats as well. Obviously not a big hang out for the boating crowd. Since leaving the BVIs we feel like the only people who are actually out using their sailboat. There were plenty of boats in Culebra, but none of them looked as if they ever moved, as evidenced by the long strands of green grass growing on every anchor line.
february 27 2007 : salinas, puerto rico
We are in the bay at Salinas, now on a mooring that is owned by a friend of ours we’ve been talking to for years by email. Of course, as it goes with sailing, we managed to miss actually meeting each other by just days once we finally got near. This has happened at least half a dozen times in the Caribbean. It’s amazing just how hard it can be to set up a rendezvous between two boats headed in opposite directions.
Yesterday morning while sitting on the boat we saw four manatees swimming around just off to the side of us. We’d never actually seen these animals in the wild before. They are one strange looking creature, with a cow sized body, almost walrus looking face, and giant beaver tail. It appears to be mating season as they were swimming around in pairs and were all over each other.
We had quite a few things on the boat that needed some stitching. The sun had essentially made the stitches disappear on our bimini, line bags, and hatch covers. A lot of things were in tatters. The sail shop here is just a tiny mom and pop sort of operation run by a couple of American expats. I don’t know if Americans are actually called expats down here since they haven’t really left America. But anyway, they fixed everything up in a couple of hours, including replacing the vinyl window that runs across the front of the cockpit. Our old one had turned brown and brittle quite a while back. We couldn’t believe how much better the boat felt to us after having those things fixed and off the list.
The rest of the day was spent doing all of our laundry and walking up to town. The town of Salinas isn’t much to look at. It sort of had that down at the heels midwestern farm community feel to it. There was a central square, a gas station, a bank, a couple of struggling clothing stores, and a handful of restaurants. We talked to a few people around town about how we could get to San Juan from here. Most said it was impossible, but we finally figured out it was simply impossible to go directly from Salinas. With just a short público ride to the next town down the road we could transfer straight to San Juan. That trip is a few days away but we wanted to have it squared away beforehand.
That night the sky was lit up by wildfires. They haven’t had rain in about three months here and there are fires daily. You can see the smoke throughout the day and then as night falls the flames appear and seem to be just down the road.
february 28 2007 : salinas
This morning we rented a car and took off for Ponce just a half an hour down the road. Along the way we saw something that made our hearts skip a beat and nearly brought tears to our eyes. Taco Bell. Laugh if you want, but we love the place. In Chicago we ate at least four nights a week there. We were such regulars that once a week the manager would comp us our dinner. Sad? Pathetic? Maybe. But after over two years without it we think we probably earned it.
We had brought our screecher sail along to Ponce because there was supposed to be a Quantum Sails dealer there. We drove in circles for over an hour looking for the waterfront. It seemed ridiculous that we couldn’t find the ocean. When we finally did we stopped to ask some people where the place was. They looked at the address and had long discussions, at least ten minutes, before finally realizing they had no idea. We asked a group of cops, no idea. One guy tried to call them for us but got no answer. We finally gave up and decided to just bring it to the place we’d been at the day before and see what they said.
Ponce is a sprawling city, but has no tall buildings, so finding the town center can be a bit daunting. We eventually stumbled across the historic city center, which is really just a city block centered around a main plaza. There were a couple of old restored building there, but for the most part it was just fast food joints and tourist kitsch. Nothing too exciting.
With our sightseeing done with for the day we drove back around the outskirts. We really had nothing to do and Ali had been wanting a daily planner so that’s what we went looking for. Now we remember why we couldn’t ever live in the suburbs again. In Chicago we could have found this in at least three different places within a ten minute walk of our condo. While living on the boat we would just do without it instead. Here, we spent hours driving just a few miles going in store after store. We’d drive by a Walmart and then have to circle back, going through a half dozen stoplights in the process. We’d had the car one day and we felt like we were spending our whole lives sitting at stoplights just trying to get to a store that had been in plain view of us the entire time. Then there was Walmart itself. We walked inside and had to walk for nearly a mile to the back of the store to find the stationary department, where of course they didn’t have what we were looking for. After the mile walk back, the lines in the parking lot, and the stoplights, we had had enough. It was time for our Taco Bell. At least that calmed us down a bit.
One thing we noticed between Salinas and Ponce is the architecture. Not in a good way either. Every home is the same, a concrete square, one story, with a flat roof. Row upon row of them as far as the eye can see. I assume it is because of hurricanes. These things look quite indestructible. Adding to their invincibility are the bars around the outside. Nearly every home has an iron fence with spikes on top. Behind this is the home itself which is completely encircled by more iron bars. The windows are covered, the doors are covered, the patios are covered, and even the mailboxes are heavily padlocked. The homes look like jail cells. We’d seen this in Australia too and remember asking one friend there about it. He said the crime was really bad and that’s why everybody had them. We asked if he had ever been robbed. No. Had his neighbors? No. Anybody he knew? No. Made us wonder if it is the same situation here. Everybody afraid of bogey men that don’t really exist.
Tonight we loaded the jerry jugs into the car and drove them over to the gas station. The marina has a gas dock, but we realized that the difference in price between the gas station and the marina would pay for the car rental. The gas dock attendant didn’t look too impressed though when he watched us carrying our loaded jugs back to our dinghy tied up at the end of his dock.