2005 was a comparatively laidback year compared to the distances and sights of other years. The straight line distance of only1170 miles included many interesting places and people. The year was shared with ten guests, which included family, friends, crew and women, yes that is the way I meant it. Last year a dispute erupted with one of the recipients of my letter and my niece, Becca, who tried to defend my use of the English language, was met by an abrasive and aggressive exchange, thanks for the assist Becca. One of the highlights of the year was a long awaited visit with family, my brother Ken, his daughter Jill and her husband Chuck spent a week with me in St Lucia. A great time was had by all.
The other highlight was with the 12 January arrival at Bequia where I finished my oncearound. More than forty thousand miles over nine years has shown me much of the world. This crossing should be the last of the major milestones unless I have a brain fart and head off for some other distant land. Most of the moves in the Caribbean are short, rarely requiring an overnight, the islands are close together and you can often see the next one before you leave the last. The wind rushing through the sometimes narrow spaces between the islands can be much faster than the normal trade winds causing some concern over reefing the sails and being underpowered, or let it all hang out and risk tearing something. The other factor in moving along the islands is the west setting Gulf Stream Current. Yes, all of that water that flows out the Caribbean must enter
The only fish I caught were on the end of my spear.
Last year we left off at Barbados. The passage from Barbados to Bequia was an easy downwind, down current, overnight run of a hundred ten miles done with Jane, a newbie crew. Jan and Hutch, my Atlantic crossing crew, both stayed in Barbados for some well earned land time. On arrival at Bequia, which is one of the islands of St Vincent and the Grenadines, and is overpopulated with long term cruising and charter boats; I was immediately met by two boat crews that remembered me from my former visit. In those nine years I went around the world and they remained anchored in Admiralty Bay, go figure, we each have our own path to follow. Most of the areas down here have a web site to inform tourists of the area. Yes, the best pictures are used in the glossy brochures and on the web sites. Admiralty Bay is the body of water and Port Elizabeth is the town at the head of the bay. Some say it is the best natural harbor in the Caribbean. The island is quite small, very hilly and the people are friendly. Several fine restaurants have opened to accommodate the many crew from the boats anchored here. A few impressive hotels and guest houses are here to take care of the land lubbing tourists that are also drawn to this Caribbean treasure. The locals do not allow the locals to beg, something that is overdone in Kingstown, St Vincent and no one is constantly hustling you. Except when you go into the produce market, run by Rastafarians who use very high pressure techniques to sell you far more than you want and inflate the price to extract as much as possible out of your pocket, they could sell used cars in any country. It is one of the tourist attractions; but I do not appreciate the tactics. Small cruise ships stop here and haul a hundred stuffed pocket tourists ashore to spend a frenzied few hours dropping as much cash as possible.
Bequia is a haven for cruisers, a hundred or more at a time. With no marina facilities everyone is at anchor in soft mud or firm sand, both excellent holding. There are small tender boats that bring water and fuel, pick up and deliver laundry, bring ice or bread. You do not even need to launch your dinghy; the water taxi will haul you around on demand. The chandleries are the best between St Martin and Grenada along with three sail lofts for repairs. The gas plant at St Vincent will not fill my aluminum gas bottles; it will be done in Bequia albeit at a much higher price.
Many of the islands of St Vincent still are allowed to harvest a limited number of large whales, each year and all of the Pilot whales they want. This year they did take a large one and it is all consumed locally. The Bequia whaling station is actually on the neighboring small island of Petit Nevis, with lookouts posted on the high hills of Bequia watching for the telltale water spout when the whale breathes. A stop there showed the ramp upon which the animals are hauled to be cut up and rendered in large cast pots. The Japanese have been trying to buy influence from many of these countries by providing new fishing ports, docks and markets, in exchange for favorable votes in the whaling conventions held to regulate those activities. Thankfully those votes have not yet been successful.
After Bequia we moved to the Tobago Cays, I think they are the best sit place in all of the lower Caribbean. Anchored in calm water, behind a barrier reef that breaks the waves coming unobstructed from Africa, with the trade winds blowing to hold the bow into the small waves that break over the reef and keep the wind generator turning, we enjoyed snorkeling with the numerous nurse sharks that inhabit the calm and sleep under the many coral heads. When we saw the first one I thought Jane would climb onto my back and ride back to RPhurst. The Tobago Cays are another place where you can put down the anchor and stay. The boat boys will bring anything you need including ice, bread, groceries, beer, sell you fish or lobster, take your laundry and return it clean, from Union Island, which is only a few miles away. I guess all of this is why it is not unusual to see more than a hundred boats anchored here. The government of St Vincent has given away management of the islands of Mustique and Palm, it can not be far off where they will allow someone to manage the Tobago Cays and unreasonably raise the price for being there. After a few days in the Tobago Cays we moved south to Union Island to re-supply, then dashed to Grenada to meet Jan who was rejoining the boat after some time out for bad behavior in Barbados, then to prepare for the crossing to Trinidad.
Trinidad
For the past few years I have been looking forward to spending time in Trinidad during Carnival. After arrival I learned that the country is named Trinidad and Tobago, using the names of both islands and the residents are called Trinis. I have not been to the New Orleans Marti Gras so I do not have a comparison. Yet, Trinidad makes the claim that their Carnival is the world’s largest street party. Who knows on what they base this claim. The excitement, entertainment, costumes, colors, smells, food and people watching made the whole event fun and interesting. Carnival is celebrated for an entire month ending at midnight on Fat Tuesday, February 8th this year, when Ash Wednesday officially begins. This begins the Lenten season and is the last opportunity to party for another forty days. We were able to participate in many of the activities of the last ten days, which are the most events filled.
When Columbus discovered Trinidad in 1498, on his second voyage to the new world, it was populated by Amerindian, Arawak and mostly the fierce Caribe Indians, who ate several of the early interlopers, then bargained with the successors and finally sold their rights to the land for a few bottles of rum and some shiny little things. After this a succession of Europeans, Spanish, French and English began the exploitation of climate and rainfall to cultivate sugar, cotton, coconut and bananas, building extensive plantations that needed large numbers of laborers to do the work required to maintain these estates. The importation of black slaves from Africa provided these workers until the abolition of slavery, when the importation of indentured Eastern Indian workers began. This has created an ethnic mix of forty three percent black and forty three percent Eastern Indian. The political debates are nearly always along ethnic lines and the two main political parties are controlled by these groups. Trinidad, with a population of a bit over a million people, is quickly becoming a very violent society with more than one murder per day. It is also a land of wide fauna diversity with many colorful jungle birds and monkeys of different description. Moderate high hills covering the northern part of the island, where the summer rains wash out roads and strand neighborhoods, to low flat swamps of the south that are inhabited by many aquatic dwelling birds. It also has its share of poisonous snakes which know their place and try to stay away from people. It is also a land of natural gas. Much of the gas burned on the northeast coast of America is shipped in pressurized vessels from Trinidad.
So, getting us back to the parties. Our first project after arrival was to become familiar with what is going on, when, how to get there and how to obtain tickets. Most of these issues were resolved by the two service companies that wish to get their share of your money by providing a comprehensive offering of trips to events. We could get to Port of Spain using one of these companies, who also dictated the time of return, or we could take the maxi taxi, a normal van packed with up to twenty people in sixteen seats which ran pretty much twenty four hours a day and cost one tenth the amount of the tour operators. Transport was cheap on the maxis, about a dollar each way, so cost was not an issue the return time was. On one occasion we opted to use Jesse James, yes, that is the name of his company. When we were all on the bus a return time was discussed. All of the passengers were cruisers. When informed that the event would end about five thirty, one of the women suggested we return about four to avoid the heavy traffic after the event, that was the last time I used this bus. I want to see the event, the whole event, or at least enough to know I do not want to see any more, also knowing that nothing runs on a very tight schedule the events are never on time. I do not understand people that plan to miss part of it. I later learned that this was the plan for nearly all of the events. If you do not want to be inconvenienced then stay home.
Our land crew consists of Jan, who has rejoined the boat after some time off in Barbados, Jane who joined me in Barbados and would leave for the real world on the day before the best activities began and Scotty, a friend from MN that joined us in Trinidad and will stay until St Vincent as well as myself. The final parade of bands was on everyone’s list of things to do. After that we had some discussion over events. The women wanted to see the children’s carnival, I did not, I wanted to see the final judging of the King and Queen costumes and one of the pan band finals, everyone agreed and so on until we had filled each day of our time in Trinidad.
In learning of the events I decided I did not wish to see J'Ouvert, pronounced 'jew vey' where beginning at four am revelers can expect to be covered with paint, mud or oil by others feeling it their duty to dirty any clean people, mugged for their possessions or otherwise put in harms way; all to the blasting beat of the sound trucks. The locals advise sensibility and awareness of your surroundings at all times during Carnival as this is the time that all inhibitions are lost, including law and order. During one of the pre party trips into Port of Spain, we heard the revivalists’ expounding the evils that are perpetrated during Carnival. I wonder how many of the listeners that day were whiners later. We did not witness any overtly dangerous situations, unless you include the time I caught a guy with his hand going into my pants pocket, no he was not playing pocket pool. When I confronted him I was questioned about the problem by the locals standing close by, I explained and then was told to move on.
Another time of potential danger was during the Parade of Bands. Each of the many bands has up to ten, large, semi truck trailer beds loaded full length with huge speakers, a large stationary power generating plant, stage for the DJ and entourage, onboard bar, putting out deafening levels of sound that can truly be felt as well as heard, the top of which is leveled with a metal frame covered with plywood for dancers, and a guy assigned to lifting the many wires that cross the roads under which the procession must pass. Well, while going past Jan and I, Scotty was on the other side of the street video taping, one of the top frames caught a low hanging wire that was missed by the guy supposed to lift them. This wire caught under the frame, broke it loose, raised it up until the welds held, then it proceeded to pull down the concrete power pole which then leaned heavily on the back of the truck full of speakers. The driver apparently felt this and stopped as bedlam overtook the whole area while wires began falling all over the street and sidewalk filled with spectators. People running everywhere to avoid what they felt could be live wires, one of which hit Jan on the back and left a black mark on her skin, just from the black insulation, not a burn. I grabbed Jan and lifted her out of the mess of wires then placed her clear of the trouble. As we walked out of the area, stepping over fallen wires the police began getting everyone away from the truck to avoid possible injury from the wires. During this time the people on the truck did what they should not do, began climbing off the truck and helping each other down. If the wires were hot and in contact with the truck, then contact by a person between the ground and the truck could have been a real problem. As it was the power was low voltage, still enough to be a real problem had the wires’ insulation been broken; other wires were for Cable TV, telephone and whatever wires are hung from power poles. This effectively stopped the progress of the parade and caused the route to be moved to the next block. The truck was still there hours later.
Another event which was of interest to all of us was the Pan Band, steel drums, competition. These are musical instruments fabricated from old fuel drums, by beating the metal to different shapes and thicknesses within what was the bottom of the barrel, then hanging the pan in a frame to allow maximum reverberation, which began in earlier times by people that had nothing and learned to do with what they could find. Many of these are now painted or chromed for a better appearance. These instruments and artists have progressed to the point where classical music can be played on them. Most bands are from twenty to one hundred players, about half of whom are playing the pans, the rest are playing traditional drum sets, sheets of metal, automotive and truck brake drums and other assorted pieces of metal that when struck with a stick or hammer will make a sound that combines with all of the other sounds to make music. Most of these are mounted on a wheeled cart which can be pushed by people or pulled by a vehicle down the street while the players play while walking or ridding. Each of these players is paid by a sponsor and they share in any money earned or won by the group. We attended a semi final judging for the Pan Bands. Being able to walk up to and talk with the players, ask questions, watch how the playing is done, even seeing how the notes are drawn on the bottom of the barrel, gives a new meaning to that saying, was interesting. Each band has a leader who directs the timing and beat, a tuner that moves pans around for a better sound, a composer that modifies existing music for band originality. The combined total is then judged by people that know such things to determine a winner. Overall it was very entertaining.
One of our favorite events was called Old Carnival. In this setting the costumes of prior Carnivals were modeled and explained. OK, so we did not know that costumes are very rigidly regulated. Over the years certain costumes have been introduced and if accepted are included in the approved list. When you select one of these costumes for yourself, you are expected to learn the approved dance steps, mannerisms and movements of the original. To us it all seems so disorganized; to the participants it is important. Can you see someone entering a float made of plastic in the Rose Bowl Parade, everything is regulated. All of these things were explained to us while characters demonstrate and model the costumes which included animals, fiends, sailors, fire eaters, old time women’s wear, pregnant women, large breasted women, stilt walkers, stick fighters, whip handlers, shiny and sparkly evening wear and the blue devils, drooling red or blue ooze from their mouths and demanding money from the spectators. In the real Parade of Bands the practice of demanding money or anything else from the spectators is no longer allowed and you should not give to anyone demanding same. Apparently this began to be a problem in earlier Carnivals and has been removed.
We also attended an event put on by the Technical School training locals in the treatment of tourists. The venue was the school grounds, the food was prepared by the students, the booze was poured by the students, the entertainment was local dance groups and student groups, even a comedian doing a shtick on George W. This is where I first saw the way limbo is supposed to be done. These bodies defy gravity, with feet under their thighs; the rest of their body will be level with the floor, inches above the floor, while they shuffle under the bar. I recall our inadequate attempts in my school days, so many years ago, we were proud to get below the height of our waist, Jan even made an effort to add to the festivities by making a pass under the bar, before it was lowered again, then again. Jane made her contribution to the status of our table by joining into the smile competition, something she does naturally and did it well. Scotty and I did our part at consumption of booze. The food was good, the drinks were good, the kids worked hard, we met some of the staff and learned some of the issues of the day to the locals, all in all a good day.
Another interesting venue was the Normandy Hotel where, after a four course meal was served, a music and variety show was put on to spotlight last years winners in Calypso and Soca. To a Trini, Calypso is not the salsa beat we think of when we hear that term. To a Trini Calypso is a form of folk story telling, to a beat and in the form of a song criticizing or complementing a person, place, activity or group of the day. During Carnival they also have a special contest for the best Calypso. This year’s winner is a male school teacher known as Chalk Dust, he also won last year, and the year before, his Calypso was interesting and entertaining. Soca is the result of combining the African beat and the Central American Salsa, it should not be confused with Rap which is neither music nor interesting.
The best way to get into the spirit of Carnival is to join a band. A band is a group of up to five thousand people walking, dancing, chipping, which means joining in, whining, which is a very suggestive dance performed between two consenting adults, where the woman positions herself in front of the man, bends slightly forward, back into him and she goes into the motions that simulate the production of a baby while the man returns similar motions, all to the beat of the music from the sound trucks within the band, this is quite seductive and is shared by the bystanders who dare make eye contact with some of the band members. The band chippers are more than happy to bring a smile to the face of an elderly white male bystander, me.
Anyway, deep breath, to join a band you need to register ahead of time, for the fitting of your costume, which are locally and hand made, be able to chip with the band for about twenty hours on the day of the Parade of Bands and be willing to wear the costume selected by the leaders. The cost to join a band is one hundred to four hundred US dollars, which includes your costume, food and drink, water, beer or booze, for the Carnival and all the times you will be required to attend for the parade or judging, security for all events, sometimes by trained staff. The band members are mostly beautiful, scantily clad women, often the costume is far less than would be seen at the beach and as elaborate as any Las Vegas nightclub act costume. As a concession to modesty most of the women wear pantyhose, while literally letting other parts fall out, go figure.
We visited a Mas Camp, Mas is short for masquerade, a place where the costumes are hand made by talented people sewing, gluing, forming and bending parts consisting of fabric, feathers, sparkles, glitter and wire together to form the pieces needed. They do a great job and it was interesting to see how it was done. They were making the last minute changes to costumes, mostly for women that knew they could loose that extra weight, or hoped to be able to fill that larger bra size by the time of Carnival.
As all places are made more interesting by meeting the people we were treated by being introduced to a local through a friend in Grenada. This turned out to be a real plus. Jason, a former tech school administrator turned security executive, is very well connected. When he picked us up he warned that we would be well fed and watered throughout the day, then brought us to a party being put on by the police commissioner, attended by the minister of police, the commissioner of prisons, many local dignitaries and the US Ambassador to Trinidad and Tobago, to whom I was introduced. We were told that leaving without eating would insult our host; who wants to insult the top cop, so we ate. As we were leaving we were encouraged to grab another drink for the drive, even Jason, our guide had one for the road. We walked out the gate, past the guards holding automatic weapons, before driving out of the parking lot guarded the same way, while holding drinks high enough not to spill them when you hit a bump. From there we were taken to the home of a friend of Jason’s, where we were again served drinks and met a few of the people there. Then we went to Jason’s home where after meeting his wife and a friend of hers we had a sit down meal, which his wife prepared but did not partake, then more drinks before going back to the second place where the food was now ready. We were definitely well fed and watered. Now it was time to attend the King and Queen costume judging.
The costumes in the King and Queen competition are unbelievable. Up to twenty feet high, up to thirty feet across, many need to be specially assembled for easy disassembly when narrow roads, overhead wires, remember those? and overpasses that restrict movement must be passed. Just take a few parts off and on we go. Multiple colors, fabrics, plastics, shapes and layers tell stories or depict characters of fantasy. One person propels each costume, often so heavy as to require wheels to hold up the majority of the bulk. Pyrotechnics and moving parts add to the amazing construction. We spoke with a Trini woman now living in Canada who returns annually to participate in Carnival and wear her newly designed costume entry.
While in Trinidad we discovered that the USA Soccer team was to play Trinidad during the time we were here for a spot in the world cup. Jason was able to get us tickets and we attended the game. The final score was USA 2, Trinidad 1, the game was not that close with Trinidad scoring its goal late. None of us, Americans and Canadian had ever seen a professional soccer game in person so this was a real treat. Trinidad was not to be eliminated from the World Cup Tournament and later in the year earned a qualifying spot.
After two weeks of Carnival activity we were due for some down time. As Scotty is also a diver he had much interest in seeing some of what Tobago has to offer. The difficult sail to Tobago limits the number of people that are willing to go there. It is into wind and current making for slow going. We first positioned ourselves in a bay where the water is clean enough to clean the propellers and boat bottom, and that would allow an evening departure. The plan is to make the most distance motoring along the north coast of Trinidad during the night, when the trade winds are less strong, until time to make the dash across open water to the nearest point of Tobago or at sunrise when the winds will pick up. The current certainly did affect our course but we were able to arrive at a reasonable time the following day. Tobago claims some interesting dive sites, including the world’s largest brain coral, estimated to be sixteen feet in diameter, a vibrant coral reef, a location on the migratory route of Manta Rays and clear water. The winter of 2004/5 has been an interesting year in the southern Caribbean. Heavy rain has fallen in the all of northeaster South America. Much of which has been in Guyana, which then feeds the Orinoco River, which dumps into the Atlantic and is carried north by the Guyanese Current, which meets the North Equatorial Current at Tobago. This usually means very clear, warm water filled with nutrients to feed the coral reef. With the heavy rain and associated flooding the outpouring of the Orinoco River is heavy with silt and suspended material in the water, which is then carried down current, to be found at Tobago while we were there. Visibility was a disappointing twenty feet, not the usual one hundred feet. We could not find the world’s largest brain coral, normally visible from the surface. We did do some very nice snorkels, a few decent dives and did enjoy the time we spent slowing down from Carnival. I will return to Tobago this fall and hope to find better conditions.
Scotties time
Scotty, a Minnesota friend, joined us in Trinidad the end of January for Carnival, then staying for a month. We were go go go from early morning until late. His schedule did not even allow time for me to re-provision the boat. This so often happens when people from that other world join me. They are still in ‘back there’ time, everything by a schedule and everything on schedule, without regard for the other obligations of operating a sailing boat. Most of you plan your day by the minute, I plan my year by the season.
After checking out Tobago’s dive sites we moved on to Grenada, where we spent one night. Moving north from Grenada is into the prevailing wind and current, so it can be challenging, we discovered this to be true. It was also under the full moon, which can and does have a real effect on the winds and sea state. We left St Georges Bay in early morning, intending to get to Isle Ronde which is only a few miles north of Grenada, for a couple of days of getting into the water. The conditions beginning about mid island and continuing to the north end of the island caused us to tack and tack and tack making slow progress until we were faced with over thirty eight knots of gusty headwind, an adverse current and not enough time to make our next anchorage before dark. Isle Ronde would not have been a good choice of anchorage in such conditions as it is a small island with a small poorly protected bay. We turned back, returning several miles downwind in only a couple of hours to a safe anchorage, only to try again the next morning. The gusting wind meant that often we were overpowered during the gust and under powered during the lull. This puts a lot of strain on the sails while we are overpowered before I can pull down a reef.
The next day the conditions were much the same, after skipping Isle Ronde we sailed to Carriacou which is less into the wind, arriving just before sundown. We stayed one night before moving on early the next morning to check into St Vincent and the Grenadines at Union Island before going out to the Tobago Cays. In the move from Union Island to Mayrou the strain put on the mainsail during the previous days of beating showed itself in the form of a long tear in the mainsail, just below the second reef point. We will now have only a double reefed main to work with until I can get it repaired, probably at Bequia, and will be very underpowered in lighter air. The Tobago Cays are the real attraction of this area. Protected by a barrier reef, a boat can anchor behind the reef and sit in relative calm while watching the waves, which are coming all the way from Africa, break on the reef. The water here is clear and warm, great snorkeling and a wonderful place to relax. If isolation is what you seek, this is not the place. There are about a hundred boats doing the same thing and it is crowded. We arrived late in the afternoon and the wind did not allow us to get out to the reef where the anchoring is the best so we stopped in the lee of Mayrou Island. We moved on early the next morning. The last time I was here I spent three days, still not enough time.
The next morning we left early for Canouan, Scotty wanted to leave before sunrise and when I commented that it is still dark, he said that the moon was still up. I told him we are not moving this boat around the reefs by moonlight and we would wait until after daybreak. Once in we were able to do a dive on a reef I had discovered earlier when I stopped here with Jane, nice dive.
Early the next morning we were off to Mustique, the Billionaires Island. This is the remote home of the likes of Mick Jaggar, Raquel Welch, David Bowie and now having a home built there is Shania Twain. The place is so expensive that it is rumored that footprints left on the beach are charged at the rate of five dollars each and anchoring is seventy five EC dollars for one to three nights. Here I began having problems with my scuba compressor and I needed to spend some time working on it. We spent three nights in Mustique, a much needed respite from moving everyday. The diving was OK. The best being the wreck of a French cruise ship lost on a reef while trying to cut the corner in 1971, then rolled off the reef by later storms. It is quite broken up but still a nice dive in about forty feet of water. The site is recommended for advanced divers only because of the current running through the area. The dive operators usually drop their divers up current then pick them up after they have seen the wreck. We had planned to do a drift over the wreck with me handling the dinghy during the drift, get back into the dinghy, motor up current then back into the water for another pass. Fortunately the current was not that bad and I simply tied the dinghy to the wreck and swam around having no problem getting back to the dinghy. The site is home to a large, perhaps five pound lobster, and quite a site after not seeing any on previous dives. The rest of the dives were over reefs partially covered with sand stirred up last fall by Hurricane Ivan.
St Vincent
We next moved on to St Vincent from where Scotty will return to civilization on March 1. We anchored in the Blue Lagoon, seems everywhere has one after the movie of the same name. St Vincent is not very well developed, even by Caribbean standards. It is a high island possessing enough water to export to other of the lower islands. The locals spend time fishing and farming Bananas, the major export food, along with yams, sweet potatoes, pineapple, mangoes and other tropical fruit. Still they import the juices made from these products, there has been talk of setting up a processing plant where juices could be bottled for export, but to this date it is only talk. Ganja, weed, cannabis, marijuana by whatever name is another cash crop of local interest and the smell is evident everywhere. One of the pillars of the Rastafarian Religion is that you must have your hair in Dreadlocks, another is that you must smoke weed, regularly.
After a couple of days of trying to find propane, groceries, internet, belts for the scuba compressor and land touring St Vincent, to see the movie set at Wallilabou Bay, we left for Bequia where I know I can find a sail maker for the repair of the mainsail. Jan has some Canadian friends that live each winter on Bequia so we will make contact with them while the sail is being repaired. After having the sail repaired we moved north to St Vincent. During our land trip we met some of the locals at Wallilabou. Nice, down to earth farmers, who are squatting on government land. Among this group I was drawn to a couple of women that have co-opted together and are working the land a few miles inland and up the side of the ancient volcano mountain of La Soufriere. They raise garden type produce that must be transported to Kingstown for marketing. One morning Jan joined them at 0500 to pick peppers that were mature. Later in the evening we met with the whole bunch at the local watering hole, which is a small, the size of a kid’s playhouse, store front, where cool beer and very strong rum can be purchased. I bought a couple of bottles of rum for the locals and a few beers for us; the rum is far too strong for me. Later that night, after going to bed, someone swam out to the boat, climbed on without making a sound, crept into my cabin, taking the shorts I had been wearing and removed the money before swimming away again. I did not have the door locked, I do now.
Some of the scenes from the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie are familiar as the movie was filmed in Wallilabou Bay and the sets are being rebuilt for the sequel. I have never been on a movie set, so being near Wallilabou Bay, St Vincent during the filming of Pirates of the Caribbean II and III was exciting. While the sets were being built, equipment and props were hauled in, cruisers were allowed to use the bay as normal. We anchored here for several days watching all that was going on. During the filming the whole area was fenced and off limits for locals and tourists alike with security guards to assure compliance.
While the sets occupied the bay front, behind all of the false fronted buildings were the concession tents where hundreds of people were fed each day, administrative tents, lots of vehicles and all of those people milling around like cattle in a holding pen, waiting for their turn in front of the lights. Johnny Depp reportedly lived on a yacht which was anchored in Cumberland Bay to the north and arrived by boat. Most of the extras and others were brought in by boat from Kingstown because the road is so bad the managers feared loosing time to accidents.
Two times filming lasted all night and we saw lights, as bright as the sun, along with brighter flashes of light, cannon shots without the sound, and smoke drifting over the hill that lies between that bay and the next where we were anchored. We did play tourist one evening and peeked over the fence to see what was going on. Some locals we met took us to a hill overlooking the set and the view from there was pretty good. Glad I brought the binocs that night.
The lighting that is used for night filming is impressive. A very large light is placed inside a helium filled balloon, made of a similar reflective material to that used by photographers for flash reflectors, then raised over the area to illuminate, bright as day, the whole area. Then smaller lights on stands are used for the closer scenes. All powered by large generators set all over the site and running at full capacity. I could see that there is a lot of standing around time, setting up scenes, telling the actors and extras what is to happen, and then a very short scene is practiced with much running and waving of arms, then filmed, then on to the next scene.
The entire north end of St Vincent is an active volcano called La Soufriere which blew its top in 1902 when 2,000 lives were lost. It made little news at the time because two days later Mont Pelee on Martinique blasted off taking 30,000 of the population with it. For now it offers hikers a challenge to walk to the top. Many of the lower Caribbean islands are on a fault and are volcanic in origin. The entire region is unstable and islands could be formed or remove at any time, as evidenced when Monserrat went off in 1997, Soufriere went off again in 1979, Grenada is currently building Kick ‘em Jenny under the water on its north coast.
St Lucia family visit
The past several years have produced few visits from family. My younger brother Jerry has visited a few times while I was in areas of good diving. This year my older brother Ken, along with his daughter Jill and her husband Chuck spent a week onboard in St Lucia. I met them at the airport, with the boat close-by at Vieux Fort. We then sailed to the lee, protected side, of the island where we could move around with little wind or sea, just right for landlubber family. We enjoyed some land tours, some snorkeling, a few great dinners ashore and wonderful company.
One of the first stops was at the infamous Pitons. The Pitons are ancient eroded cones of two extinct volcanoes which were located side by side and are nearly the same height at 750 and 799 meters. Can you imagine the excitement of the sailors of old when they spotted something that resembled something they had done without for many months? The Pitons are prominent on the St Lucian flag, the local beer label and on every tourist brochure. From here we boarded a van for a tour of the still active sulfur pits, the rain forest and a lesson in the local produce. It was the first time I have sampled the Cocoa nut.
Another of our stops was Marigot Bay, a natural, nearly fully enclosed harbor, reportedly where one of the Brit Navy ships of old, disguised by tying palm fronds to the masts and rigging, hid while a larger force of pirate ships passed by. It is now the home of digging and construction of condos lining the seashore, what a mess.
The water along St Lucia offers pretty good snorkeling and the country is trying to limit damage to the reefs by installing moorings for visiting boats. These moorings are paid for through user fees charged to any boat in the area. The dive operators installed moorings years ago.
St Lucia is also the arrival port for the ARC, the Atlantic Rally for Cruisers. Each year the marina at Rodney Bay is filled with boats that have crossed the Atlantic from the Canaries. Once arrived and the parties have ended these boats disburse over the Eastern Caribbean for the season or move on to the Panama Canal to continue their circumnavigation or go to their west coast homes. Jan departed from St Lucia to return to Canada and her teaching career, buy her own boat and think about cruising.
I then followed about the same route back south. St Lucia to St Vincent, then to Bequia, onto the Tobago Cays for several days and check out at Union Island before sailing back to Grenada. From there I moved on to Los Testigos, Venezuela.
Los Testigos
Many cruisers look for a buddy boat when they intend to do a passage. As I was preparing to leave Grenada for the eighty five mile, overnight, downwind, down current passage to Los Testigos islands I met a Canadian cruising couple on the cat Always Sunday who intended the same passage. We agreed to stay in contact by radio for the whole passage; actually we were within sight the whole way. Well, for a downwind passage we sure did not have much wind from behind. In one of the very rare situations in this area we encountered very light wind from the SW, the direction we were trying to go. Most of which was caused by hurricane Dennis forming north of there, sucking all of the air into itself. It meant that we could not hold the angle to get to where we wanted to go using the spinnaker.
Los Testigos are a group of small islands belonging to Venezuela and located about half way between Grenada and Margarita. After checking in with the coast guard and visiting with other boats we recognized we moved the boats to another end of the island to enjoy the sand beach and unrestricted air flow, it is hot, and enjoy the clear water. Getting into the water was welcome after a month in Prickly Bay of Grenada where the water is not clean. We planned to explore the island the next day.
The second day I began taking apart my outboard to perform a repair that had been put off for much too long. I had a broken plastic part that is part of the throttle advance. To get at it I needed to take much of the engine apart so the job has been waiting for a time when I do not need the engine for a few days. After tearing the engine apart, repairing the part with epoxy and leaving it to set, we took the other boats’ dinghy to the sand dunes.
Los Testigos Islands are mostly great big sand piles, deposited here by the current and then blown higher and higher by the wind. I always find it amazing how Ma decides where to put things like this. It was fun to be in such a large sandbox, without any cats. The other interesting observation was the number of vibrantly colored flowers growing among the meager vegetation. As you all know, to me anything that has green leafy things and more colorful spots hanging on it is a Geranium. This eliminates all of the discussion as to the origin of any plant, they are short, tall, tree, bush or climbing, they can have red, yellow, blue or multi colored spots on them, but they are all Geraniums. Testigos offer a great place to stop, relax, enjoy the clear water and do some island walking. On one of these walks we crossed the island to see the sand dunes on the other side where we found tracks made by large sea turtles that have struggled up the sand piles to dig a hole into which they can lay their eggs. They look like tire tracks from a very large tractor. We only stayed here a couple of days as Always Sunday had a date with a marina in PLC. Also, the weather fax told us another tropical wave has developed into a low and is moving toward us. Not wanting to be in such a remote place when this arrived we chose to leave and go to Margarita. On arrival at Margarita we found the low is now a tropical storm and is nine hundred miles from here and still headed this way.
The forty four mile leg from Testigos to Margarita was not as predicted. We left under low hanging, threatening skies that produced a lightening strike not far ahead of us as we pulled out of the anchorage. The intermittent rain would last through out the first half of the trip. The wind was strong enough to have the spinnaker up, however it was from the southwest, can you imagine that, in the trade winds belt, where the wind is always out of the east we had wind from the southwest, up to eighteen knots. You know our course was southwest. I was not able to hold my heading so after hours of hoping for a shift I decided to take down the spinnaker and raise the main. While taking off the mainsail cover the wind shifted, right onto the nose and before I could get back to the cockpit to straighten things out I had torn my spinnaker. Oh well, a job for the sailmaker in PLC. The rest of the trip was motoring straight into the wind, good thing it was light.
Margarita
We arrived at 1330, 1:30 pm, Sunday and found a place to put down the hook, I then stayed on the VHF radio for more than an hour talking to boats I know. Sunday, like all Sundays around here is spent lounging, because nearly everything ashore is closed. About the only thing going on shore is the domino tournament that happens between cruisers nearly every Sunday, wherever they congregate. Monday the activity of cruising begins anew. Take the papers into the agent for check-in, take the bus to the supermarket, begin to arrange an island tour, find internet, change money, and meet more interesting cruisers. Always Sunday will leave mid week to claim their spot in Puerto La Cruz, I need to be there in about a week. Margarita is very nice, has the best supermarkets I have seen since the Med and is very economical, beer is six dollars a case, diesel fuel is ten cents a gallon. I look forward to returning to Margarita in September.
The crew of Always Sunday and I arranged a tour of the island. Margarita is a small island; it has little agriculture, no industry, no lumber or large sea port. Its income is nearly all tourism. Consequently there are many fine hotels to look at, lots and lots of beaches and a few forts from days of old, a few churches from those same days and a couple of museums. Margarita developed its tourism based on duty free shopping. A bit like driving to those big factory outlet malls. Prices are quite low and the malls and shopping centers are upscale.
As everywhere else the people on the street are wonderful, helpful, outgoing and willing to meet you. The language is a barrier because I still only speak elementary Spanish, but point and grunt still works in most cases. In the early days fishing was more than subsistence, they provided for the hotels and export by way of a cannery. The bay in which the fishing village is located, where we stopped to have lunch was filled with hundreds of brown pelicans, diving singly or in pairs, filtering out the water and swallowing the fish. I was amazed that the bay would not be fished out by these efficient fishermen.
The island is kept very clean, or as compared to the black controlled islands of the Caribbean, where nothing is thrown into a container, rather thrown on the street or the sea. Debris in Margarita is nearly unheard of, until you are driving the highway out of town where the roadside is heavily littered with beer bottles, there are no cans because they are worth money, and the bottles are not.
The few forts we saw were armed with old cannons from the days when cannon fire was the only thing that kept the pirates at bay. Yeah right, they just landed two bays down and tromped overland burning, pillaging and raping their way across the countryside to arrive at the town where it would be sacked. The infamous Henry Morgan, no not the Colonel in Mash, was well known in these parts for being the most vicious and resourceful pillager. When his standards were seen on a ship the army surrendered along with all of the wholesome virgins.
We stopped at a roadside spot for beverages. It was a local spot, thatched roof, dirt floor swept clean and smooth, sturdy tables and chairs made from rough local wood, cages of Parrots all around and the obligatory brood of puppies, they were hard to resist.
One of the best sites was the Marine Museum. Yes, I have seen many marine museums and many are much larger and better funded. This one is supported by a poor people and I found it to be a breath of fresh air. All of the signage was in Spanish, but you can not have everything.
Our driver/guide was very good. He had learned English at a school for tourism workers and is still learning. He was third born in a brood of twenty two; his father had six wives, some at the same time. He had many stories to tell and had a good knowledge of his island. In nearly every town he would stop and talk to friends and the marine museum is in his home town. So while we were visiting the museum he visited his mother and sister and then introduced us to his son and daughter found on the street.
As in many cities crime is getting out of hand. With little employment outside of fishing or tourism, for which some people are not well suited, they turn to crime. Margarita is no exception to this. The police are overworked, underpaid, untrusted and uncooperative. I remember back home when my vehicle was stolen out of my driveway in Minneapolis, I was told by the cop making out the report that they do not even look for the vehicle, just collect your insurance and buy another one. In Margarita they tell you to make yourself available, perhaps in a few hours or maybe tomorrow or possibly the next day someone will be there to take a report, the result is that victims do not even make out the report.
Emily
This was the morning we learned of the approach of Hurricane Emily, it was aimed straight at Margarita. Remember that low that chased us out of Testigos, it is now hurricane Emily, is predicted to pass within sixty miles of Margarita and is chasing nearly all of the boaters out of Margarita. The weather does dictate many of our moves and I always try to be ahead of the need rather than after, this time I was behind. I arrived at Margarita on Sunday, picked up email messages on Monday, did a land tour Tuesday with friends that were moving on quickly, then received the warnings of Emily on Wednesday morning, we all left on Wednesday. Many, including me, did not take time to check out of Margarita which may be a problem at the next port because we will not have clearance from the last port. Being in a boat within sixty miles of a hurricane, and predicted winds of up to sixty knots, nearly seventy miles per hour is not my idea of fun. We all headed south to find hidey holes along the coast of mainland Venezuela.
The night before all of this material hit the fan the locals were busy passing through the anchorage looking for opportunities to enhance their income, read that looking for dinghies left in the water overnight which provides easy access to the motor. They found two that cruisers had carelessly left in the water and took them. The rule is if you want to keep it, lock it, if you like your outboard, you should hoist it. If you leave it in the water the motor will be gone, locks, chains, cables will not help, they have large cutters. This is the equivalent to having your car stolen from your garage and finding it missing when you want to go to work. The people still had a dinghy, just no way to get it to shore. Being Mr. Nice Guy I offered to take the crew ashore so they could deal with that problem. While I was ashore I learned of the second, Wambat, and also gave him a ride to shore, towing his dinghy in with him, this is when I told him of the closeness of Emily, the blow hard. He then decided that he did not have time to look for a motor because of Emily, so I towed him back out to his boat so he could go. The first couple was trying to do things properly. They called their insurance company who want a police report, when they contacted the police they were told to stay available and an officer would be over to see them in the next couple of days. Yeah right, remember Emily. They decided the police report was not that important.
There were about fifty boats in the harbor and most began lifting anchor to get out. I stayed for awhile to help the two boats that had lost their dinghy motors and left later than I would have liked. We subsequently learned that later that morning, three armed men walked into the marine agents’ office and demanded money, and then they confronted the cruisers sitting outside and relieved them of money and passports. It was a good thing the bus to the shopping center had left half an hour earlier or there would have been twenty five more people sitting around with money in their pockets. Now before you get your shorts pulled up too tight, tell me if a 7-11 or ATM site is safe in your town. It truly was a very busy day in the neighborhood.
The escaping boats made for a variety of anchorages, all south of Margarita and most in the Gulfo de Careaco. I choose Laguna Grande, which is a multi fingered bay, totally sheltered from the north, the direction of swell from Emily and had lots of room for boats. Given that I had stayed later to help other boats I did not arrive until just after sundown. Normally I will not enter an unknown harbor after dark. The fact that there was a hurricane coming and that I had talked with other cruisers on the radio, one of whom was one of the boats I had helped with dinghy problems and being a stink pot had passed me, offered to lead me in I was able to get in without any problems. We must have chosen well because we did not have any ill effect from Emily other than a small amount of rain and fifteen knots of wind. The next day I moved to Cumana. It was here I learned that the other boat I had helped in Margarita, Wambat, who had chosen a different bay, was boarded late that evening and the thieves took everything that was not tied down, right down to his dirty laundry. Some people have all of the luck. I again saw him in PLC where he was trying to replace the things that were taken.
Puerto La Cruz
I arrived in PLC, Puerto La Cruz, on the 18th of July, intending to stay until about mid September. This was my second visit here as I had been hauled here in ’97, the first year of this adventure. When I went into the office to pay on my account they informed me that the price had gone up as of 1 Aug. The increase was substantial, from 17 to 31 thousand Bolivars per day I had received an estimate for dockage and haulout when I arrived and it is normal to pay some up front and wait with the rest. So they were willing to accept the estimate amount if it was paid in full now, with local currency.
Money is difficult in Venezuela, nearly no one uses a credit card for a couple of reasons. One is that card fraud here is rampant, even the banks can not be trusted. The official rate of exchange to US dollars is regulated by the government of Hugo Chavez, who just happens to hate America. The official rate of 2,150 Bolivars to the dollar, is just over ten percent less than the street rate or 2,450 to one, so we all exchange money elsewhere. The official exchange booths can only give the official rate. There are unofficial money changers that offer much better rates. They also accept a US check and have people that fly to America several times per week to make a deposit in an American bank. This is the money that business needs to pay of purchases of stock outside of the country or it could be drug money being laundered, who knows. No one wants Venezuelan currency.
As I needed about a thousand US, I took a check for that amount and also that amount in US cash to exchange. I do not want to walk outside of the marina walls with that much money on me. I wanted to use the dinghy to go to the adjacent marina where far more services, including money exchange are offered. I put the dinghy in the water, pushed my self out from between the boats and started the motor, well I thought I was starting the motor. With the first pull the rope broke. So I needed to fix that first, it is always something. When the dinghy was finally running again I went to the other marina to get some money. They were sold out for the day, not to worry we will have more in the morning. Yeah right. The day was ending as all of this was happening so I began to run into people I know heading for the bar for happy hour. I was tied to a chair to keep me from going home, and then forced, against my will to drink beer, and then eat dinner, which was pretty good pizza, then watch a movie. By the time I finally got home it was not a good time for details. The next morning I needed to get this money thing handled. So I take the dinghy over to see the woman with the cash at nine, the agreed time, no money yet, I checked email and killed off some time while waiting, still nothing. I left to go talk to my marina and offer to give them the amount in US until I could pay the bill in local, not good, they do not do US, needs to be in local. Well the money is supposed to be in at three. Go back over to check and sure enough it is there, now I am behind a bunch of other people wanting the same thing. See this bunch of circling Americans, check books in hand, saying 'take mine first'. I have never had so much trouble getting someone to take money before.
Concert
There are many opportunities to enjoy life in the cruising community. One Tuesday night I joined a group of cruisers for dinner at Bahia Redonda, the adjacent marina. The restaurant had been offering music for the evening in the form of a violin and guitar. Apparently this has been happening over some period of time on Tuesday evenings. We are all surprised when the musicians came in there were five of them. As they unpacked their instruments it was apparent that more than a violin and guitar were in the offing. Two violins, the guitar, a cello and an oboe were unpacked and tuned. As the apparently leader, in his broken English, introduced the members of his small group they were the first chairs of each of those instrument in the Puerto La Cruz Orchestra.
Sorry, I do not recall all of the names of the long hair music they played but did recognize most of the tunes. They played them wonderfully. When they moved onto movie theme songs and more popular music I found myself humming along to Dust in the Wind, My way, Yesterday and several others. The eaters showed proper appreciation for each of the offerings through applause and a contribution of cash to the hat. All in all it was a wonderful evening of conversation, music and the food wasn't bad either.
So much of the cruising life is centered on meeting people. The locals everywhere and the cruisers along the way each contribute to the quality of life and enjoyment. The time in PLC offered the opportunities, in the way of BBQs, dinners at restaurants, exchanging ideas, problems solving and the morning radio net for cruisers, to meet with many friends I have known for a time and allowed me to meet with so many new ones. Lots of friendships are formed by sharing time with people you may or may not ever see again. Some are moving on to sail around the world, some are going home, some I will see time and time again. We exchange email addresses and promise to stay in touch. The list is far too long for this submission but each will know who I mean when they read this.
Angel Falls
Angel Falls is a must see while in Venezuela. I traveled with Jerry, a fellow cruiser I met in PLC, he continued on to deeper South America and I returned to the boat taking the long way around. The first leg was a bus ride from PLC to Bolivar, the express bus companies in Venezuela seem to have a competition going, to see who can have the best operating air conditioning system on the bus. Buses seen driving down the road have condensation running down the outside of the windows, same as the outside of the ice cold glass of white wine you are drinking while reading this. When you see people getting on or off the buses wearing layers of coats, mittens, scarves and a blanket thrown over their shoulder, you should have a clue as to the interior temperatures. We spent a couple of days wandering around Bolivar, staying in a low priced hotel, eating local fish caught in the massive Orinoco River, talking to the local fishermen standing vigil over their multiple lines and watching the large catfish, called lau lau, surface and smile at the fishermen, while we arranged the trip to Angel Falls. Angel Falls is the highest vertical drop, at 930 meters, that is 2700 feet, of any water fall in the world. Angel Falls was discovered, right it did not exist until he found it, by Jimmy Angel. While flying around Venezuela in the search for gold, the American landed his airplane on the top of the five hundred square mile plateau in 1937. It became stuck in the mud and he could not fly off. He and his party needed eleven days to climb down from the top and walk out. The plane was removed by the Venezuelan Air Force and is now proudly displayed in front of the Bolivar airport. We flew from Bolivar to the small Indian village of Caniama in a six seater airplane, with the pilot, four passengers and a small amount of luggage behind the rear seat. As we were deplaning we were asked by airport personnel if any of us were licensed pilots, it appears they have a shortage. After doing, by boat, the lagoon and local waterfalls, one of which has been eroded away by falling water over the years so that you can walk all of the way across behind the falling water, the air being displaced by all of that falling water makes for a very windy and wet place, then dinner, we stayed over night in small motel type rooms. All meals and accommodation are provided by the tour operator, all workers are indigenous Indians, nice to see employment for them also.
During our walking excursion of the falls we watched as they found and recovered the body of a drunken Bolivian tourist, as the story is told, that had ventured too close to the flow of water and was washed over the edge. A bit more of natural selection, Ma tends to remove the really stupid ones first.
The next morning twelve of us boarded a dug out canoe powered by a large outboard motor for the four hour trip up the river of Tannin stained brown water to a base camp across the river from the Falls. On the way up the jungle lined river we stopped twice for breaks, swimming in the pool below small waterfalls and twice to portage around rapids. The canoe is able to power up most of the rapids with a load, but two must be done without a load, here we walked overland to meet the canoe on the other side. The young guys that operate the boats, one in the front with a huge paddle for steering and the other on the motor, are very good. They seem to know where each rock is located and how much water is over it. I was surprised by the lack of fauna along the way. There were few birds, I expected many, only a few turtles and no larger mammals on the banks or swimming. As we rounded the final bends in the river we began to see the towering plateau that creates the falls, then we caught sight of the falls itself. Even from a distance its height is impressive and the halos of rainbows are beautiful.
As the shy was clear on the afternoon we arrived we did the climb to the base of the falls. We walked from the base camp through flat forest land about half a mile, which was followed by another half mile of progressively steeper climbing often using the roots of very large trees or rocks as steps until we reached the base of the falls. Good thing we did because the next morning it was totally enshrouded with clouds and we would not have been able to see very much. The falls is an incredible sight, the water free falls for nearly one kilometer, nine football fields, before crashing onto the rocks with a great big splash and forming a cold water pool in which we were able to swim for a while. It was stiff nipple cold but very inviting after the hot and sweaty walk through the jungle. Sometimes during minimal flow there are times when you can see the water falling off the top, but none makes it to the pool at the bottom because it evaporates on the way down. After the walk back down the guides busied themselves with preparing our dinner. The tourists talked, stared at the falls until stiff necks made us stop, watched the huge spiders tending their webs along the edge of the jungle and readied our beds for the night. Beds were hammocks, hung from an open walled roof and were covered with mosquito netting. The guides told us that the netting is only for looks as there are no mosquitoes in the jungle. I expected to be viciously attacked about dark, there really were not any. The following morning instead of waiting for the clouds to burn off so we could see the falls again and get some more pictures, the guides wanted to get going back to Canaima, so we were awakened early, and breakfast was ready on time, for the first time, and we sped back to the base camp. On our arrival at the village camp Jerry, the guy I was traveling with, and I were told to get to the airport because our plane was waiting for us. It was a quick trip.
Oilybird
Ready for another adventure I decided to see another of the sites of Venezuela. Cuevo Del Guacharo, cave of the oilybird, in 1949 was the first designated natural monument in Venezuela, is an outstanding site to see. It is not that easy to get to or away from because the bus service is limited to vans or por puestos, private cars, that haul passengers for a small fee. I was able to find a van from Cumina that would take me to the town of Caripe where I would spend the night. Then taxi the few miles to the cave for the tour which is given by volunteers hoping for a tip. My guide was a young woman going to University; she spoke broken but understandable English and knows the cave well. The cave was formed by water running through the sandstone hills, eroding a large cavern thought to be 10.5 kilometers long, about six miles, and is home to blind catfish. crabs, centipedes and other critters that prefer dark damp places. During the rainy season the cave floods and the high water line is evident on the walls.
The Guacharo, oilybird, is a large, about the size of a hawk, night flying, fruit eating, sonar navigating, screeching bird that is a one of kind in the world and lives in a cave with about sixteen thousand of its friends. If you are wondering why they are called oilybird, take a walk through their cave, and wear good shoes, you will know. At nightfall they fly out by the thousands to forage on whole fruit and then return to the cave to digest this fruit and regurgitate the seeds. The seeds attract large mice that dine on the bounty. In later years small rats invaded the cave and being carnivores have killed off most of the larger mice.
My return trip was more interesting. As the van that I rode over returns at 0630, makes only one trip per day and I did not wish to spend another night in Caripe I went to the bus terminal, by name only, it is only a parking lot. I discovered that the only way I could return is to take whatever is going that direction, for as far as it goes, then take the next one. Finally, I rode in the back of a mini truck, a seat in a van and finally I in a car. The trip was interesting and fun.
Fools errand
Over the past several years I have been trying to find a female partner to join me. I have tried dating sites on the internet, cruisers sites where people are able to post a notice of interest, and a few friends have given suggestions. After talking with a woman for whatever period of time is needed to make us both comfortable; then I invite her to join me for a time on the boat. During which time we will be able to determine if we are compatible. This has produced mixed results, some very good friendships but no permanent results. I have always felt that the woman needs to make the trip, it is important for her to see the boat, how it is sailed and she gets a vacation. I need to see how she handles being on the boat. This year I met the most attractive woman I have known for some time and after talking for awhile we decided that we should meet. The problem was she would not travel out of the country to do this. If it was to happen I needed to make the trip. So, after a brain fart, or cruisehymers had set in, or as the old saying goes, no fool like an old fool, I made the trip. Foolish yes, still I had hopes. It did not start out well. I boarded a five hour bus to Caracas, which should have me to the airport three hours ahead of time. After seven hours I jumped off the bus, took an overpriced taxi to the airport, arriving nearly one hour before flight time, only to be told that my seat had been given away. I would need to standby for the next flights. After spending a sleepless night in the Caracas airport I did finally get onto a flight and arrived safely, if late and she picked me up at the airport. Overall it worked out well and I thought it was going well but in the end she decided that she was not ready to leave the life she has. We seemed to be so well suited in emails, yet I was unable to convince her that I was better than the life she now has. I have learned to not do that again.
Merida
I did a ten day land touring trip with Linda, who had earlier sailed with me in Italy, seeing the western side of Venezuela which offered a wide variety of sites to see. The Venezuelan, direct, express, refrigerator buses all travel at night. Leaving PLC at 7, 8 or 9 o'clock in the evening and arriving the following morning. They also skirt all of the mountain passes, for the obvious reasons. By going the long way around on mostly flat land it also takes several more hours. My decision to spend a few extra days to take shorter bus trips and stopping at several other towns was also a good choice.
The first leg was PLC to Maracay, about nine hours, the first half to Caracas over flat unremarkable scenery. After Caracas the landscape became more rolling and the large cattle ranches began to show up. Venezuela is a major beef producer, which seems strange because it is very difficult to find any good beef in the supermarkets. This is caused by the intervention of the government of Hugo Chavez. He has dictated that beef should be priced so that even the poor can afford to buy it. Seems like a great policy, right? Well the beef producers can not raise the animals for the price they receive when selling them on the local market, so nearly all of it is exported. The only beef in the local markets is the front and hind leg, the worst cuts of all. The restaurants are able to get the good stuff and occasionally the butcher shops will receive some tenderloin, but it does not last long. I bought five whole tenderloins and cut them into steaks, then froze. The price was right at just over six dollars per kilo, about three dollars per pound. I will wait until Trinidad to put most of the good beef cuts into the freezer. The chicken is pretty good and reasonable; also the hind leg is just fine for ground beef.
The climb into Maracay was gradual and mostly rolling hills. Maracay is the home of the largest Plaza Bolivar. It is about three blocks long and a full block wide. Simon Bolivar is considered the father of Central and South America, including Venezuela. It was his dream to chase out the Spaniards, under whose heavy hand the area was not prospering. Everything of value was sent back to Spain, or lays at the bottom of the ocean after attempts by pirates to take it away. After successfully and forcefully chasing out the Spanish he tried to unite Guyana, Venezuela, Columbia, Bolivia, Panama, Honduras and Guatemala into one country, or at least a block of trading nations. Sound familiar, everyone is getting into that act these days. His ousting of the Spanish was successful; his attempt to unite the entire area was not too popular with the politicians of each of the countries and consequently failed. Even with that, he is still very popular for his foresight and fairness. You would be hard pressed to find a town of any size that does not have a Plaza Bolivar. There have been other dictators that have left their mark on the country. One of whom named Maracay as the country's capital in the early 1900s.
Barinas was another seven much more interesting hours on a bus. Barinas lay at the base of the foothills leading to Merida. It is a small working community with little to offer the tourist other than an airport for those that wish to fly in then bus up the mountain. There is another airport in Merida for those that can not be bothered spending time on buses or seeing anything else along the way.
The four hour drive from Barinas to Merida was all uphill and around switchbacks, most of which have no guardrails, or if they do they would be challenged to hold back a bicycle, overlooking vertical drops of several hundred feet into valleys that seem to go on for miles. The scenery was impressive and somewhat wraps around Pico, peak, Bolivar at 5007 meters, the highest mountain peak in Venezuela. During the drive the flora changed from the dry scrub of the flat land to more lush in the midrange elevation and finally to the barren patches of short grass between the outcrops of rocks protruding from the peaks above the tree line.
The driver was amazing in his ability to round switchbacks, crossing into the other lane, sounding his horn to warn drivers coming from the other direction of our presence, while seldom staying on either side of the road very long I am certain he was due a much needed breather. Even with all of these precautions he still needed to brake hard for a couple of cars that thought they had enough time to round the turn, they did not.
At the first pass we had a rest stop, or should I say a time to pry your fingers off the seatback ahead of you. The temps had dropped to near freezing, as normal I was wearing shorts and tee shirt. Even my MN thick blood was chilled while walking around checking out the local handicrafts which consisted of woven woolens, hats, gloves, scarves and ponchos and watching the caballeros pass by on horseback. I understand why they need to dress in layers. During the fifteen minutes of the stop it rained and stopped twice.
The second pass was home to the government observatory complex with four large telescopes. The area is not accessible from the bus and would require a day trip out of Merida, it is also only open to the public on weekends. The rest of the drive into Merida was along the ridge crest, winding through small valleys and around hill tops using the level ground between the two for the road. Small quaint mountain villages dotted the landscape, each with its own selection of woven woolen wear for those hearty enough to stand out in the cold to buy such things. Garlic, cauliflower and cabbage seem to be the produce of choice. The small fields are so steep and graded that tractors would not be able to work so plowing is done with cows, yes cows, not oxen, horses or mules. I guess everything needs to be polyphasic. The property lines are delineated by rows of the ever-present rock, after centuries of picking and piling these into neat rows the fields are still covered with them. Irrigation is easily done by laying pipe from a higher spot in the numerous creeks, running downhill to your own property and the water flows of its own accord.
Once into Merida the town quickly becomes another busy city. A few Universities provide a higher level of the arts and the attraction of Pico Bolivar, the highest point in Venezuela, the highest teleferico, cable car system, in the world, which is prone to breakdowns, the cooler air of the highlands all conspire to make this a lively place to visit. The town central is typical Hispanic layout. A huge cathedral fronted by a large plaza which is surrounded by entrepreneurs who sell everything from religious artifacts, seed for the pigeons, drinks, food, tee shirts along with the sidewalk entertainers blowing on pipe flutes, I do not recall the name. Parallel, numbered and signed streets make walking around easy. When you buy your ticket for the Teleferico you are also watching the people coming down from the mountain. They are dressed like cross country skiers in the deep woods of frigid Minnesota, bundled up in multiple layers of pants and tops, woven woolen wear of hats, scarves and gloves, now I know where all of those things sold on the mountain passes end up.
Several Posadas, guest house, accommodate the active tourist trade. During most of my travels I have found these guest houses to be the best places to stay. They are owner occupied and managed, offer budget priced rooms, usually less than ten dollars, normally are very clean, usually have a kitchen and laundry facilities, are often inhabited by world travelers, from many different countries, of all ages, that all have an interesting story to tell. In most hotels no one talks to one another, in a guest house it is normal to sit and exchange stories with your fellow room mates.
The main reason to visit Merida was to ride the Teleferico, cable car, the longest in the world at 12.5 Kilometers and the highest at 4,765 meters, built in 1959 by a French company. The tickets, about twenty dollars, are normally sold for two or three days in the future, unless you choose to buy a tour from one of the many operators that hold some tickets for each day, double the price and sell the packages to tourists with more money than sense. Finding something to do for a few days is not difficult. Jump on the local bus, ride it to its extreme limit and ride back again. This saves a lot of walking and you get a good feel for the towns’ layout.
The Teleferico is in four sections, each one taking the riders to higher levels. At the terminus of each section everyone must get out of the car and walk cross a station house that offers warm food and drink, it seems like the Venezuelan people are always eating, a great deal of it carbs in the form of corn. During each of these stops more clothes are added to the ones already worn. The terrain changes were about the same as the bus ride up the mountain. Beginning with green valleys covered with vine draped trees and heavy undergrowth giving way to grassy valleys giving way to barren and dry looking grass like growth and finally above the tree line the un-eroded barren rocks that make up the mountain. Rain began during the last section and turned to snow before the top. Remains of previous cable cars, their supports and leftover cables are merely left on the mountain to deteriorate.
Before exiting the car at the uppermost terminal a guide informed everyone not to stay longer than forty five minutes. The altitude is 15,600 feet above sea level. I do not recall every being that high while standing on the ground. The air is very thin indeed and outside it was snowing, the water puddles were frozen and the surrounding mountain tops, when they could be seen during gaps between the clouds looked ominous. Pictures on the wall taken in 1946 and 2002 of the glaciers in the area show the evidence of warming as the ice covered areas are much smaller in the later pictures, or perhaps just a year with less snow. The ride down was a reverse, people shedding clothes as the temps raised.
Leaving Merida was again a challenge. All of the fast buses leave in the evening and travel at night. The same choices were made, take shorter trips to smaller towns, travel during daylight and enjoy the scenery. The first segment was to Valera down a track nearly identical to the one going up the hill. Lots of blind hairpin turns, switchbacks, waterfalls and wonderful scenery made the ride exciting. The roads are built to follow the contour of the valleys, then over the next pass and down again. The road takes us right past the highest church in Venezuela, a small chapel resting in the windswept landscape of a mountain top, glad I do not need to walk to worship there.
On arrival to Valera I discovered that one of the large bus companies had begun express service directly to PLC. As the sites had been seen in this area it was a good choice. I have boat work to get done when I get back. I could see my breath on the bus.
Bottom job
Nearly every year the bottom of the boat must be painted to limit the growth of marine critters that want to hitch a ride. Barnacles, coral worm and other hard bodied animals attached to the hull will greatly reduce performance of the boat, limit speed and increase fuel costs. During the times that the boat is hauled out there are always other projects that also need to be done. This year I did not have too much that needed to be done. I tried for two months to get an estimate of cost to do some superficial cosmetic repairs, if the yard does not have time to give an estimate, they certainly do not have time to perform the work in a professional way. I finally gave up and will carry those things onto the list for next year. So with freshly painted bottoms, new oil in the outdrives I launched, did not take on water which is good and the engines started so I could move back to tie up. I will not want to stay in PLC for long because the water in the channel is so dirty that I will begin the process of fouling the bottom once again. One final going away party with friends, at a nice local restaurant, then I am ready to head back to Margarita, then on to Trinidad and then north into the island chain for the season.
PLC to Margarita
In early October when I finally left PLC and all of the friends I had known and so many more that I met there it was because I needed to make tracks. Before I left I filled everything I have with eight US cents per gallon diesel and eleven cents per gallon gasoline. I still wanted to spend some time in Margarita, my last visit there was cut short by Emily. The provisioning there is first class and easy to do with free buses running to different large stores daily. I really did need to stock up on that six dollar a case beer. Most of the Caribbean islands are much higher priced on nearly everything.
Between PLC and Margarita are the islands of the Mochimo National Park. These dry, brown, mostly uninhabited islands offer many great anchorages. The first steps from Puerto La Cruz to Margarita were all very short moves, a few miles per day. I needed to enjoy being out of the dirty congested marina life. Being in the islands with clear water and no oil film or frequent boat wakes is welcome and allowed me to clean the props. During previous passages through this area I have not stopped, always in too much in a hurry. This time I had a few weeks before the first crew was scheduled so I could spend a week moving through them, enjoying the warm clear water that was so missed in the marinas of PLC. I pulled into an anchorage on Segunda Grande, to be met with several boats at anchor. I did not think about the fact that this was a Saturday. Before long the entire bay was filled with boats, nearly touching each other, in fact some of them were touching, intentionally. There is a great beach, a restaurant and bar on shore sharing its amplified music with the anchorage, warm, clear water and it is only about ten miles out of PLC. I was very relieved when just before sunset most of them picked up anchor and headed for home.
I stayed in Margarita for eleven days, had my first experience at WiFi, which gave me my first virus. Then repeated trips to a computer shop to cure the virus and an irritating problem with the power cord meant the total loss of the computer. When the guy had it all laying in parts on his tool bench he commented, this is really complicated. Seems to me he should have thought of that before taking it apart. I hope one of the incoming crew will bring a new one along. Several loads of provisions were hauled to the boat and stowed, including seven cases of that cheap beer, I know, I know, seven is not very many for eight months of cruising, but we need to save weight where we can.
Margarita to Trinidad
The fifty mile move from Margarita to Testigoes was a motor boat trip into the prevailing current and light wind. I left Margarita at 0400 and arrived a half hour before the sun went down. That was close. I had been in that anchorage before and was confident that I could have gotten in after dark. The water around Margarita is not clean enough for swimming either, so I had not checked the propellers, what a surprise when I found they were well encrusted with marine growth after so short a time. After cleaning they push the boat much better.
The hundred ten mile passage from Testigoes to Trinidad was nearly as expected. As the wind had been south of east for the past fifteen days I felt I should go south to the coast of Venezuela, then turn east and use the shore to protect me from any swell. This coast is not safe for boats to stop and I did not plan to spend any nights at anchor. I left Testigoes at 0700 hoping to arrive during daylight the next day. The first third of the trip was wind from the side, the best kind, and then the passage of a tropical wave broke all of the cycles. The wind went to north of east, so much for a good plan. It was beat and bash for over twenty five hours. I checked in, was very tired and could use a shower.
Crew
Rod, the first crew of the year was originally scheduled to meet me in Margarita in mid October and we would sail to Trinidad, he was delayed so those plans changed and he arrived in Trinidad the 29th. The plan was to spend a couple of weeks in Chaguaramas, then a couple of weeks in Tobago diving, then on to Grenada, from where he would return home. Cheryl arrived three days later, brought my new computer and was scheduled to stay for several months.
Chagachacare
While in Chaguaramas there were several projects I tried to get done. Nearly anything can be done in Chaguaramas, getting anything done in Chaguaramas is difficult. Most of the tradesmen are quite busy with other customers; please hold and we will get back to you. Yeah, right. I left a few projects to be worked on and we moved out to Chagachagacare for a few days of reasonably clean water. Pronounced chaga cha car e. It is the site of an old leaper colony that was operated from the mid eighties to about 1970. Most of the buildings have suffered from vandals, weather and age. Still much is recognizable as hospital, wards, staff housing, Doctor's house, churches, power plant, kitchens and water containment. The place looks like they merely shut the door and left. Medical records, beds, file cabinets, even the old X-Ray machines are there.
The women’s and men’s dorms were separated by the common area until the inmates struck to have more inter gender mixing. The whole place was run by the Catholic Church so the nuns did not want any fooling around and resisted the mixing. Eventually it could not be stopped. All of the buildings are spread over a large area of very rugged hillsides connected by walking paths cut out of the jungle. Even today the vultures circle overhead by the hundreds, could they possibly recalling the meals from limbs left behind while on a walk so many years ago?
The anchorage is fairly well protected from most directions except east. Course the prevailing winds are from the east and there is often a swell entering the bay. Also the bottom is very steep to, within a hundred feet of shore it is a hundred feet deep. Anchoring requires using a stern line to hold the boat stern to the shore, forcing the anchor to drag up a steep hill, quite unlikely. This also allows adjustment of the boat to the direction of the swell for a better ride.
This structure also provides some interesting snorkeling. The smaller fish hug the shoreline and as you get into deeper water the size increases. The visibility is not that great. Being in the direct flow of water from the Orinoco River there is a lot of suspended material in the water that is stained green from the jungles of South America. Still the alternative of swimming in Chaguaramas Harbor is not an acceptable alternative.
Being down wind from Trinidad this island does not get as much rain as the larger island. It is still very green, lush and makes difficult walking through the seldom used paths. It is also home to a number of howler monkeys that can be heard if you are very quiet. We had a great few days before heading back to the pit called Chaguaramas.
Finally we were able to pick up all of the projects, or pick up the unfinished projects, or decided to do the projects later. We wanted to go to Tobago for some diving. Having done the passage to Tobago before; I knew what to expect. The current would be fully against us, the wind would be fully against us. The passage to Tobago is so difficult that few boats go out there. The only reasonable way to make the passage is to motor along the north coast of Trinidad during the night when the trade winds are lightest, then about daylight when the winds pick up turn to cross the current by the shortest, most direct route. This worked fairly well, except the wind did not die during the night and we did not make the miles we needed to have the shortest distance across the current by daybreak. This boat will not motor into winds more than fifteen knots very well, so as the wind picked up after daybreak we had no choice but to break off from the coast and sail. After hours of tacking, making one knot made good, that is one mile per hour toward our destination, we arrived at Crown Point with less than a half hour of daylight left.
Crown Point to Charlotteville
It was at Crown Point that Rod called home and was told that his father was ill and Rod needed to get his butt home ASAP, he was good crew.
From Crown Point we moved to Charlotteville, there are several anchorages on the north coast of Tobago so we did a half day one day and a half day the next. Of course it was into the prevailing wind and current both days. We stopped early so I could get the T-Day meal ready. We had roast pork on the grill, mashed potatoes, dressing, gravy, candied carrots because we did not have sweet potatoes, jellied cranberries and avocado. Yes, there were some complaints about overstuffed after the meal.
After arrival in Charlotteville the project was to check into Tobago. I tried to get that done when I needed to get Rod off the crew list when he flew home. The officials in Scarborough, the largest town and the capital of the island would not check us in, merely told us to come back when they were on overtime to check Rod off. Now I will need to explain why we have been here for a week and have not checked in. If you never hear from me again I may be in the clearance jail.
We planned to stay in Charlotteville for a couple of days, then move to the east end of the island, where the diving is the best, there is no internet and enjoy a few days of diving. Then back to Charlotteville to check out and return to Trinidad for some projects I left there and on to Grenada. Things seem to change quickly. Cheryl had been complaining that the motion of the boat was not allowing her to sleep. The swell in Charlotteville was more than the other anchorages had been and she decided to go home. The next crew is scheduled for Christmas so I will do the passage back to Trinidad and on to Grenada alone.
After moving the boat to the opposite side of Tobago and spending a frustrating morning trying to find an internet place in Speyside, the end of the island with all of the good diving, I was finally able to get geared up for diving and get wet. The only internet place would not read my memory stick. I finally went back to the boat, copied the messages to another and took that back. The second one worked.
Brain Coral
I have been looking forward to this for sometime. One of the famous sites here is what they claim to be the largest brain coral in the world. I found it. It is in about forty five feet of water and is sixteen feet in diameter and about ten feet tall. It is also not feeling well. Much of the coral I saw was showing evidence of bleaching, which is not a good sign for coral and may predict difficult times ahead for the diving. Several dives over a few days seem to have satisfied my need to get wet and I was ready to move on. While typing messages in the evening I can hear a pan band, the local name for steel drums, did you know that they were invented in Trinidad? Jamaica only claims to have done that. They are practicing Christmas songs. Imagine if you can Silent Night played on a steel drum, yeah they really are, followed by a conga song.
Crown Point to Trinidad
The passage from Crown Point, on the west end of Tobago, to Chaguaramas, on the west end of Trinidad is about 59 miles. It should be an easy and smooth downwind and down current run that should take about twelve hours. I set the alarm for 0100, so I could get some sleep after dinner and still be underway by 0200. I did not have any problem getting the anchor off the bottom and was underway by 2am. The first twenty miles were just as predicted and expected. The rain started about a half hour after I got underway, it was a mist to a tropical downpour for the entire trip and was still raining when I pulled into Chaguaramas. As soon as I was out of the anchorage I used the minimal light of a small new moon trying to get through the thin cloud cover to set the spinnaker and looked forward to a comfortable ride. Otto was steering so I had coffee, found some cookies I had forgotten, later had cereal and fruit. I had lots of time to think about being hungry. The wind varied between 4-26 knots, all from behind. Now this is sailing.
Shortly after sunrise the tricks began. The first surprise was the spinnaker blowing back into the mast. Yes, the trade winds had reversed and now were blowing lightly from the southwest. As the downpour began I was able to get the spinnaker down without tearing it on anything. Then start the motor, set the main and head sails. The motor would run the rest of the trip. With the wind off from straight in front I was able to get some help from the sails. Given that the wind was offshore I wanted to get as close as I could to shore to minimize the waves that would blow ahead of the wind. I had nothing much to do now but pick up a book.
The motion of the ocean was much more than the light wind justified. With three well established wave patterns all trying to occupy the space under my boat at the same time I regretted not putting everything away. I always put the most breakable and the most mess creating things away before any passage and most things are generally stowed all of the time. The motion of the boat is the worst when there is a confused sea and light wind. When the wind is strong and steady the swell develops in a pattern ahead of the wind and is predictable.
The last three miles before turning the corner into the first pass where a boat can go through, called Mouth of the Dragon, yes that is what it is called, does that give any idea of what conditions could be expected. This is like any place on earth where land masses try to inhibit the flow of the tide. In the spaces between the islands the tide tries to get even by racing through, often against your movement. This time I lucked out, the water was going the same way I wanted to go, well mostly. In some places whirlpools caused by underwater structure would cause it to swirl against me for a short distance. The approach to this pass was about as confused as anything I have seen. Short, steep seas tossed the boat around and things that have never fallen over fell over. Even the water buckets of rainwater caught during the day went over, right into the inside of the boat. OH Well, it needed cleaning anyway.
Trinidad to Grenada
The passage from Trinidad to Grenada is about eighty miles and almost straight north, with a west setting current of up to one and a half knots, the wind should be easterly. All of this means that it should be a comfortable beam reach, wind from the side of the boat, which is the fastest and most comfortable on any sailing boat. The moon should give me some light for all but about three hours before sunrise. The weather forecasts had been saying the wind could be a bit more north of east and twenty to twenty five knots. This higher wind is normal for later in the year, like January, and now it is more intense because of compression of the isobars from a dominant high pressure area in the northern Caribbean. I expected a pleasant, fast crossing of fifteen to twenty hours.
After making a pot of soup for later and taking an hour nap I was up raising sail and anchor at 2200. Knowing that the current would try to take me west I tried to take some extra easting while close to Trinidad. I was able to hold a course ten degrees up wind from my needed heading. For the first two hours I gained quite a bit of easting. Good thing I did because as soon as I got out farther into the current I needed that extra distance. The wind was far more northeast than I expected, so after all is said I was able to hold a course of five degrees lower than my desired heading, while sailing at a comfortable angle to the wind. This added up to arriving seven miles down wind and down current from Grenada. It also makes the passage eighty seven miles; plus the distance to tack back into the wind.
As the sun was peaking over the horizon just before 0600 I could see the outline of Grenada about twenty five miles away. It is a large, old and high island that is rounded like the shoulders of a man that has lived too many years carrying heavy loads. I could see it, just knew that I was going to have some problem getting there. Well, that is part of sailing a boat. When you need to go somewhere you want to go, and the conditions do not want to let you go, then you must do something else. That means tacking. This is turning the boat the other direction, holding a heading of about sixty degrees off the wind for a couple of miles, then turn the boat the other way and hold the heading about sixty degrees off the wind. In this way, for each of the two mile tacks you gain about six tenths of a mile into the wind, which divided into the seven miles I was off course means a lot of tacking.
Given that for most of the night the wind had been twenty five to thirty knots, which had built seas of six to eight feet, the highest about ten. I knew I was going to need to tack; the question becomes when is the best time. It makes no difference to the boat, so comfort of the crew, me, takes priority. If I do my tacking in the open ocean, then I will be faced with running almost straight into the face of those eight foot waves. When I hit them it nearly stops the boat, which then needs to struggle to get moving again. Also, when I go over the white foam covered crest of the waves, half of the boat’s length is suspended into thin air until it finally crashes down into the trough, sending sprays of saltwater everywhere. The inside of the boat on arrival tells me that I had done some crashing and banging along the way. I decided to run until I was in the downwind protection of Grenada to do the tacking. It was much smoother and the wind was nearly as strong, but the current was halved, so I tacked and tacked until I was close to the island, then out into the ocean on the south side of Grenada as the anchorage I wanted, Prickly Bay, is on the south end.
I arrived with an hour of daylight to spare on 12 December, the exterior of the boat completely covered with salt crystals and the inside looking like moving day. This should be the last passage of this year. Having only one hour of sleep in the past forty hours I only wanted to have something to eat and get to bed. I will deal with everything else tomorrow. I have been to Grenada several times before, know where that shallow spot is for my anchor, and know where most other things are and how to get the things I need to find. It has a couple of good chandleries for those last minute parts. Many of the cruising boats anchor in Prickly Bay, the officials are there and a couple of marinas. One of the marinas offers a happy hour at the bar each evening which is good way to meet some of your neighbors.
Jan again joined me for the Christmas holiday from work as a teacher. We helped friends of hers move into their house in Grenada, enjoyed the holidays and gently welcomed in the New Year. My next crew does not arrive until after the first of the year. The cruising plan for the upcoming year is to cruise north to St Martin, then follow about the same route south to get out of the hurricane area for hurricane season. I am also planning to return to the States for my fortieth class reunion and to catch up with friends and relatives so sadly missed.
Please, if you do not wish to receive this let me know and I will gladly take you off the mailing list. If you enjoy reading these adventures, let me know. Wishing all of you a wonderful new year in 2006
Your friendly crew on RPhurst, love and kisses,
Bruce
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
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