One of the worsts sounds you will ever hear, is the sound of swimming, when it stops.

 Jan Berkey joined my in St Martin, for a leasurely sail down the islands. She was a newbie and wanted to see it, and do it, all the first day. Having spent much of her life raising kids and plants, especially flowers, she was quite familiar with them. She did not buy my story that all green leafy things, regardless of height, that have colorful things hanging from the branches, are call Geraniums. I tried to teach her but she was quite resistant and always wanted to call them names like Bouganvillia, Orchids, Flamboyant and so many other weird terms.

 We visited St Barths, Statia, St Kitts and Nevis before moving on to Montserrat, where we were anchored right next to Oleander, with Prince Charles and Camilla on board and watched while they enjoying the beach.

 Slowly we moved along the island chain before going east to Antigua, where we enjoyed the festivities of Classic Week. Lots of fun, parties, friends and of course the racing. Those classics are wonderful and Jan took a real interest in what was going on.

 Jan had always dreamed of being a reporter or travel writer, so at every opportunity, she would interview people to learn their take on life, while taking endless pictures of the exotic places she was seeing.

 We did Guadeloupe, the Saints and on to Dominica, where Jan found the rain forests breathtaking, the water falls refreshing and the people very friendly.

 Jan seemed very happy to be meeting the other cruisers along the way and would ask endless questions. She wanted to know it all, and right now. Everyone was happy to answer her questions and to help guide her along on her adventure into discovery.

 When we arrived at Martinique, I had another crew joining us. Pat arrived on Wednesday 21 May and we moved the boat to Fort de France. By Friday 23 May, Jan was dead.

 We had spent much of Friday in Fort de France, checking out the stores, finding Internet, getting some provisions and just looking around. Jan discovered when she checked her bank that her income tax refund had arrived and she was quite pleased. We all went back to the boat for lunch and Jan asked if I would take her back to shore for the afternoon. We arranged to meet her on the dock later.

 We all had dinner together, then watched a movie. Jan had seen it before so went out on the bow to watch the moon come up. After the movie I went to the bow and talked with her for a few minutes. She mentioned that she wanted to go swimming, which I replied that she had been drinking and swimming would not be a good idea. She simply replied that she is a good swimmer, which she had proven several times.

 When I went back to the cockpit, a splash could be heard. Jan soon swam to the stern and was laughing and splashing around. She did a few laps around the boat, then began swimming out and back in several different directions. When she came back to the boat I suggested that she has had enough fun and should come back onboard. She merely stated that she would come back when she was ready. It was during the next swim away from the boat that the sound of swimming stopped.

 I grabbed the large spotlight and looked in the direction of the last sounds. Then jumped into the dinghy to go looking. After an hour of making many ever increasing circles I returned to the boat and called the French Coast Guard, who took the information, asked several questions and said stand by.

 When they had not called back a couple hours later, we went to bed, with a plan to be up at sunrise to check the area again and when nothing was found, I called the Coast Guard again. They took the same information and gave me directions to the police station and told me to go there to make a report.

 The French police were thorough and efficient, they interviewed Pat and I numerous times, together and separately. Divers searched the area around the boat and nothing was found, but Jan's body was seen floating, by a French Army helicopter, and she was recovered by an Army boat on Saturday afternoon.

 This began a week of lots of questions, our passports and the ships papers were seized. I contacted the person Jan had written in her passport and he notified the family. The US Embassy became involved and everyone was very professional in their efforts.

 After an autopsy was performed it was determined that the cause of death was accidental drowning. At that time our passports and the ships papers were returned.

 Take a lesson here, when having someone on board, get contact information, even for someone you know, and strongly discourage any swimming after drinking.

Grenada to Margarita July 2007

I am now in Margarita, Jenny has been crewing with me for two months and flies out tomorrow. The plan is to do nothing for awhile, but clean up the boat, do some minor maintenance and catch up on my reading and emails.

The 90 mile, downwind, down current, overnight passage from Grenada to Testigos went quite well. I put up the spinnaker as we left St Georges, Grenada just before sundown and took it down as we approached Los Testigos a couple hours after sunrise. The wind was light, only 10 to 14 knots apparent so slight wave action, but with a favorable current we made good time. Some French boats left St Georges at the same time and a mixture of five other boats, including Drumbeat and Dreamtime, left Prickly Bay a couple hours before I did. I stayed in radio contact with the ones I previously knew all the way across and we all arrived at about the same time and anchored in reasonably calm water, close to an idyllic cut between the islands where wind driven water passes over a cut of shallow water.

The first day in Testigos was very laid back. As I get very little sleep on the first overnight I was ready for some reading, napping and doing little, if anything.

The second day I went with some of the other cruisers to explore one of the small islands I had not walked before. Given the sea ravaged coastline of eroded volcanic rock, carving deep grottos where the waves crash and echo, it is indeed a rugged place. During times of larger waves I am sure the caverns spout and the surrounding rocks show evidence of having been washed and puddled over the millennia. Finding our way through the cactus and brambles, I often wondered if we would see bier rabbit, was challenging, often finding ourselves in a box canyon of sorts, retrace our steps to find another way through. The local goats do not seem to have much of a problem, but then they have a much lower center of gravity.

In the afternoon we moved our boats to another anchorage that is closer to the larger attraction of Testigos, the beaches where the Leatherback turtles, the largest of the sea turtles, come ashore each May, June and July full moons to lay their eggs. Security is always an issue, so we decided to split the four boat crews into halves and go on separate nights, to avoid leaving the boats or the dinghies alone.

On the way to the next anchorage a problem that I had been ignoring raised its vicious head and said ignore me no longer. Actually I had intended to take care of that as soon as I was anchored, really I did. One of my engines had been cooling with about half water for the past few times it was run, indicating a problem, but it seemed to be alright if I kept the revs down to half throttle. The other engine had stopped cooling all together the last time I used it, so I did not want to run it at all, or at least only a few minutes. Still, I felt a move of less than two miles albeit into a full knot or more current, in wind of only ten knots, would not be a problem, yeah right, any problem that is not addressed, suddenly becomes a big problem. Remember, expect the unexpected to happen, at the most inopportune time. Well as I left the first anchorage I set the headsail to do part of the work and limit how much I needed to run the half cooling engine. About half way there the wind switched to right on the nose, which is always normal, and increased to twenty seven knots. With one good engine I need full power to motor into that much wind, without a current against me. Being less than a half mile from where I wanted to go, standing still running the half cooling engine at half speed, I started the non cooling engine. It would be alright as long as it contained cooling water, which it did. Anyway, the slow movement held me back for longer than I had hoped, the non cooling engine overheat alarm came on which required shutting it down now, and the other was still not up to the job, I stopped, dropped the anchor and realized, dumb shit, fix it now before you damage something. After putting impellers into both engines I was cooling again and ready to move. Except now I had one melted muffler, so that engine could not be used. Just another lesson, do things when they need to be done, not when you want.

I offered to shuttle the other two crews ashore just before sundown and watch over the boats at anchor until they called for a ride home, which was 0130. From the small beach access a challenging walk up a sand dune, as vertical as any black diamond ski run, with loose, deep and slippery sand that grabs at your feet and shoes as you struggle up its slope before it levels out on the top of the dune. This dune has been built over thousands of years of outflow from the Orinoco River in South America. The sediment is carried to the face of this island, where the current swirls and the sand particles drop out, the waves bring the sand to the beach where the wind carries the sand up onto the dune, now a couple hundred feet tall. This also offers the turtles an excellent place to lumber up the beach on the gradual incline of the windward side to lay her eggs above the high tide mark.

The teenage female turtles will return to nest on the same beach where they were layed up to ten times per laying cycle. The males will never come ashore after that frantic race to get from the nest, through the horde of feasting sea birds, to get into the water where the ravenous fish await them. I have been told that fewer than two out of a hundred hatched will survive the first few hours.

At sexual maturity, about fifteen years old, the female turtle will be about four feet long, nearly three feet across and more than seven feet from end of flipper to end of flipper, weighing more than three hundred pounds, all on a diet of jellyfish. The largest found by man was a male that weighed in at two thousand pounds. She needs to use her front flippers to drag her huge body out of the supporting seawater, to begin her twenty to thirty minute trip over the soft sand to a place where only she can decide to dig her nest. Digging with her front flippers to disguise her body with sand, then using mostly her hind legs to dig the hole for the nest, before laying a hundred or so eggs takes another thirty minutes. Then she will cover the nest, smooth the sand, then dig another hole next to the last, cover it, then move to dig another, cover it and then dig another. This is thought to be a form of camouflage to protect the nest. She does a lot of resting while all of this work is going on. She will then drag her eggs lighter body over the sand and once again into the sea. The survival of the species assured until the next moon.

On the night I did the shuttling three turtles came from the sea to lay their eggs, on the night I observed only one came out. Still a very impressive display of Ma at work. The young turtles will hatch in about fifty to sixty days to begin their race to the sea and relative safety.

Rescue at sea

I left Testigos for the fifty mile, downwind, down current trip to Margarita. This time, given the wind angle and expected heavier wind I put up main and headsail. The heavier wind did not happen but while sailing along during the first hour I observed a sportfishing type stinkpot maneuvering in what appeared to be fishing a school of baitfish. They were doing large circles about three miles north of me and appeared to be using a lot of power because the boat was doing a lot of smoking. During the following half hour or so, the erratic movement continued but seemed to slow and the amount of smoke increased, so I got the binocs to take a closer look. It was now that I saw flames on the deck. Fire is one of the most concerning problems that can happen to any boater. It denies you the boat, takes away all of your safety equipment and causes you to abondon ship when it may not be convenient, but so does sinking. Now it was good that I had set main and headsail because I did not need to take down the spinnaker to change course, which I did immediately, reset the sails for the new course, started the engine for greater speed and once on course I called friends back in Testigos on the VHF radio to request that they contact the Coast Guard to advise of a vessel in distress.

It took me nearly a half hour to cover the distance between us, and during that time I was advised by the friends in Testigos that a fast fishing boat had been dispatched and was on the way, they should have no problem finding the wreck as it was now a billowing plume of thick black smoke. I had Jenny fill small water bottles, take some pictures, get a retrieval line ready and told her what to expect when we found people in the water, we were as ready as we could be. Just so far away.

As I approached the burning hulk I continued looking for people in the water or on deck while I reduced sail and was prepared to heave to for picking up victims. Given the intensity of the inferno I did not expect to see anyone on deck, but they could have been hanging onto lines connected to the hull, they were not. As the wind was light, less than fifteen knots, the sea swell was mild, perhaps three to five feet. Heads are very difficult to see at any distance in those conditions. My plan was to get close to the wreck, a couple hundred feet, then turn into the wind, thinking that anyone leaving the boat would not drift as quickly as the boat, which was driven down wind. Once I was certain no one was near the boat I turned into the wind, keeping an eye on the water ahead I began to see debris, fuel cans, loose life jackets, sadly with no one inside of them. I continued motoring into the wind watching ahead and to both sides for any sign of life in the water. Then, a hundred yards ahead, a cluster of small dots that I knew were heads of people began bobbing above the tops of waves, one of them was even waving. I still had no idea how many, but that did not matter. This was when I first saw the distant fishing boat coming from Testigos, so more help was on the way, I also saw another cruising boat that had altered course and was approaching from a mile away.

I maneuvered as close as I could to the closest head and he swam to the boat, Jenny then threw the float and line to the next and he was pulled in. They had not been in the water that long and seemed to be in pretty good shape, but readily drank the water offered. The fishing boat coming from Testigos continued getting larger, but still a long way off and another could be seen approaching. One of the first two men took the throwing line to the bow and was ready to begin helping the next guy aboard. It was clear they all spoke only Spanish, and I was able to ask the first one aboard, 'quanto personas' Spanish for how many people, to which he replied quatro. We now know that all four were nearby and in sight.

The third guy aboard seemed to be injured and was very slow coming up the swim ladder. The second fishing boat had now arrived and was searching the area. Then as I motored toward the last man in the water, who did not seem to be participating in his rescue only laying back in his life jacket, not swimming or waving, he was found by the fishing boat and hauled aboard. The fishing boat motored over to us and two of the ones I had were transferred to the fishing boat, the last jumped into the water to swim over to the fishing boat and was hauled aboard. With lots of waves and gracias, they headed for Testigos and the safety of dry land. Just another shitty day of fishing in paradise.

The time spent during the rescue would have an adverse affect on our time left to get to Margarita. We still had 47 miles to go and less time to get there. As the wind was not as heavy as expected we put up the spinnaker and took down the rest of the sails. This increased our speed by nearly a knot and would be enough to get us there in daylight. Given that we were still nine hours away it was time to get back to the book, a Dean Koontz thriller, as if I needed more excitement today. A bright sun and fully charged battery from motoring during the rescue I started the watermaker to put some water into the tank for my time in Margarita.

By the time we had approached to within five miles of Margarita the wind began to die. This is kind of normal and I needed to replace the power spent running the watermaker, so we started the engine, took down the spinnaker and motored the last five miles, anchoring with a half hour of daylight left.

Now safely anchored in Porlamar it is time to catch up on so many things, varnish, reading, emails, get my six month overdue annual letter for last year finished.

2006 Venezuela to Antigua and back

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year for 2007 and welcome to another year in the travels of your friend on RPhurst.

Sorry this is so late, things just happen that way while cruising. This has been a very different year for me as it included a trip back to the states, my first since 2001. Fact is, I traveled more distance on land this year than I did by water the past two years. I have never been able to figure out how to make the boat jump over land, so I used airplanes, trains, buses and cars. As this year has two very different segments, cruising and family, I will write separating the two. In that way those that are interested in the cruising do not need to read about family and vise versa.

Don’t forget that all of these letters back to 1999 are posted at http://rphurst.blogspot.com, if you wish to read them. I still have not figured out how to add pictures to that site, but I am trying. If anyone can help with that it will be very much appreciated.

Cruising
The year saw much of what has been seen before, Grenada to Antigua and back to Cumana, Venezuela. I spent four months going north and two heading back south to Grenada, then south to Trinidad, then crossed to Margarita, then to Cumana to put the boat to rest. I enjoyed nine guests including crew, family and women. It was a laid back sailing year with short moves and staying in one place for a longer time. It also only covered a bit over a thousand miles. R Phurst was put on the hard for five months, the longest she has been out of the water since 1997, she was due to dry out and needed some TLC.

Grenada Island Tour
In early January I continued with crew of Jan and saw the arrival of Rim we then did an island tour of Grenada. It was all day and we saw a waterfall, which probably has more water over it in the rainy season, a chocolate factory, a traditional rum distillery. We found Nutmeg, Cocoa, Banana, Breadfruit, Papaya and huge Mahogany trees, along with the Bamboo, vines, tropical flowers and heavy undergrowth of the tropics along with the remaining destruction from hurricane Ivan.

Most places I visit have something to see while doing a land tour. Each of the drivers, tour guides or street hustlers wants to show you the sites of their country, at a fee of course. Some have been exciting and informative, others boring and dull. Grenada offers so much to see that it really can not be done in a day. My next crew, Rim, has arrived and will be with me for a month, leaving from St Vincent so this is a chance for him to see the island.

We arranged with Dave, a friend of Jan’s friend, to drive us around, tell us the tales and explain the things we do not understand. Dave and his wife Jackie are Brits, have settled into Grenada and opened a guest house. Try www.guesthousegrenada.com for their web site. As a sideline to the guest house Dave also takes his guests for a tour of the island. As there were only three of us it does not warrant using one of the maxi taxi, a full size van with seats for sixteen. Dave has a four seater which will work out just fine.

We began at about 0900 and the first stop was Annandale falls just up the hill from St Georges. During the rainy season there is a large amount of water pouring over a rock ledge and falling fifty feet into a deep pool. During the dry season there are local boys wanting to dive off the ledge so you could get their picture, for a fee, of course. The walk down to the falls is lined with plantings that represent many of the flora of the island, all tagged for easy identification. We then drove through the hill land, called a rainforest but not nearly high enough for a true rainforest. Still it has spectacular views of the valleys and the sea. The damage from hurricane Ivan is still evident, with broken trees and views not previously available now open.

At the top of the spine of hills is a crater lake. Next to the lake are the remains of Grand Etang, buildings used to provide all the services tourists require, tee shirt, drinks, souvenirs and guides to show you the way around the well established trails in the area. All of these buildings were heavily damaged by Ivan and are only now being repaired. The old caldera of an ancient volcano now filled with water. It is said that when volcanic activity occurs elsewhere in the island chain that bubbles emerge through this lake. It also serves as a backup water supply for St Georges.

Next we moved on to the Chocolate Factory, or should I say the processing plant. It is housed in an older house, occupying four of the rooms. The locally grown cocoa beans are roasted, then ground, then sifted to recover all of the broken pieces of chocolate, which are all put into a rotating oven that melts out the chocolate, then separates the cocoa butter. The next step is to mold the warm chocolate into bars and cool by placing the molds into an air conditioned room. Their product is dark chocolate and baking chocolate, depending on the content. Everything is done by hand to preserve the most jobs possible and most of the power, for lights and motors is solar powered, the heating is done by gas.

We then went on to Grenville, the second largest town on the island. It is also home to one of the Nutmeg processing plants. The Nutmeg trees were so damaged by Ivan that none of the plants are open and it may be ten years before Grenada recovers from that damage. Nutmeg was the number one agricultural income producer for Grenada and Grenada was the number one producer of Nutmeg in the world. During the drive we saw several small plots of banana, mango, papaya, breadfruit trees as well as huge Mahogany trees. Bananas are another of the mainstay cash crops grown here and recovers in only one year.

We next drove to the River Run Rum Distillery. Here the old methods of production are still used. They grow their own sugar cane, harvest it by hand, squeeze it using a water wheel driven press, boil the molasses using the dried spent sugar cane stalks, hand ladle all of the liquid through the heating kettles, then giving in to technology use a gas powered pump to move the boiled liquid to the fermentation vats.

After fermentation the liquid is again boiled, this time using wood for the extra heat needed before going to the still, where steam heated vats heat the liquid boiling off the alcohol. The result of all of this is seventy percent alcohol rum, far stronger than you ever hope to drink. The distillery is so into creating jobs, not economy, that not only is the initial process done by hand with local products, ie, water and fire product, the final product is drained from the still by hand into an Igloo cooler, poured by hand into the bottles, passed to the next person who will place the cap, pass to the next for the label, pass to the next person for the customs seal, pass to the next person to place into the cardboard box, pass to the next person for the tape to hold the box closed. To be sure all of the liquid is accounted for in taxes, the Customs officer is a frequent visitor, to inspect and measure tanks and check the shipment papers.

Every step of the process, other than the one gas pump, is done the way it was done a hundred years ago and with the thought in mind to keep as many jobs as possible. The emphasis is on the workers and the product, not the profit. Free samples were offered at the end of the tour, they do not need to worry about anyone overindulging on the samples, the stuff is like lantern fuel, but the locals enjoy it.

Our next stop was a couple of beaches on the windward side of the island, something cruisers rarely see. The one place we avoid more than anything else is a lee shore, where the wind is trying to drive us into the rocks or onto the beach.

Our next stop was Sauteurs, it’s claim to fame is Carib Leap. When the Europeans were trying to exterminate the resident population of the fierce indians that defended their land so well. After having been driven to the north end of the island by the soldiers with guns the Caribs were trapped. Preferring to die than to be taken into slavery they jumped, men, women and children, off the high bluff to die where the waves crashed against the barren rugged coastline.

The drive down the leeward side of the island is calmer, the roads are much improved and it is more densely populated. We had a great day, saw much, learned a lot, have memories and a few pics.

Jan left from Grenada and will be missed, she has been with me off and on for seven months, is great crew and a nice lady.

Grenada to Union

Rim, from VA, arrived in January, carrying my new inverter, then he and I left St Georges Saturday to move out to anchor in cleaner water so we can clean the propellers and the bottom of the boat. Without doing this before a passage the boat will be very slow indeed. A lot of marine growth and dirt attach to the boat while in dirty harbors. After getting everything cleaned up we moved to Halifax Harbor, a bay just a few miles north along the coast of Grenada. Early the next morning we were ready to make the jump north to Isla Ronde. The coast of Grenada can be challenging because from about 2/3rd the way up; the west coast begins to angle east. The prevailing wind is northeast, this means the wind wraps around and blows right down the coast toward the south then joining with the wind that goes over the top of the island to make for higher than normal wind strength. To further make this passage more difficult the west setting current does the same wrap around thing and contributes to the slow going. Last year we needed to turn back because we spent so much time tacking into high winds that we did not have time to make our destination during daylight.

This time we had about the same strength winds, twenty five to thirty knots. We were not able to hold the course needed to make Isla Ronde but we were not so far off that we could make up the distance later in the day by tacking. The sail was wonderful from a sailing perspective, moderate wind up to thirty knots with one reef in the sails, moderate waves up to eight feet, a contrary current and we still made our destination before noon. Isla Ronde is an unpopulated, dry chunk of rock, right next to an island under construction, that means an underwater active volcano, called Kick em Jenny. We stayed two nights to enjoy some snorkeling, doing small projects and relaxing.

The third morning we left for Carricou, the middle size island of Grenada. Tyrell Bay is one of those meeting places for cruisers and the bay can have nearly a hundred boats at anchor. The water is swimable but just. The island is very sparsely populated and provisioning is difficult. We took the local bus into Hillsbourgh for checkout.

Next we will move to Union Island, the most southern island of St Vincent, to clear in before moving out to the Tobago Cays, which I feel are the best sit spot in all of the Caribbean. The Tobago Cays are an area of shallow behind a barrier reef, very much like an atoll. Hundreds of boats sit for days, to weeks to months there. The government of St Vincent has initiated additional charges for boats to stay at anchor there and are planning to put in moorings. This will nearly kill the cruising boats going there, so hurry.

Scaramouch

The Tobago Cays are a very busy place, with hundreds of boats; each plying for anchoring spots close to the reef for their crews and passengers. This can make for some uncomfortably close encounters with boats swinging at anchor and the ever present danger of one of them dragging.

The Cays are made up of half moon shaped Horseshoe Reef, behind which there is lots of room for boats to set their hooks and enjoy the unencumbered wind blowing from Africa and the lack of swells broken by the reef. This is as close to being inside of a South Pacific barrier reef as you will find here. Snorkeling in the shallows behind the reef is pretty good, the water is cleaner than most places, the coral heads growning behind the reef are doing well and the fish life is interesting, expecially the nurse sharks that come in to sleep under the coral heads.

Everywhere you go with a sailboat the greatest worry is not storms, pirates or governments. The greatest worry is the charter boats, at anchor or underway. They are often crewed by people with vast knowledge and skills but sometimes they are not very knowledgeable or raw beginners. One of the cheap entertainments for all cruising boats is to watch the charterers anchoring. Rarely do we need to worry about the professionally crewed charter daytrip boats, safely operating the boat is their livelihood.

Watching the eighty foot Scaramouche, a locally built, wooden, tourist day tripper boat, anchor a hundred feet in front of me was worrying. They should have at least a hundred feet of rode, which is the chain or rope connection between boat and anchor. Their anchor was not very substantial for such a large boat, had only about twenty feet of chain all of which could be lifted by two deck hands by hand. They first anchored too close to a sailing catamaran which caused them to raise the anchor, which is how I knew that two guys could lift it. They re-anchored in front of me. I felt that these guys do this all of the time so they should know what it takes to hold the boat.

Spending some time reading I felt and heard the crunch at the same time. To hear the crunch, or feel the bump separately is not so bad, when you hear and feel it at the same time it is trouble. I ran outside to see the side of Scaramouche’s hull; angled across my bow. I ran forward to fend the monster off my home, which really means pushing myself away from him. About this time the charterers ran to the gunnels to see what was happening, they were six feet above me and could only look. When I had successfully pushed myself away from them, the crew had their engine started and were beginning to back away. I looked up and saw that their substantial steel bowsprit was overhanging my boat by several feet and aimed at my shrouds, the wires that hold up the mast. There was much yelling on the Scaramouche as the crew realized what was going on. I pushed as hard as I could, they stopped backing up and we cleared my shrouds by an inch or two. If their bowsprit had caught my shrouds my mast would have come down. As they were pulling away I was able to get a picture of them still very close to me.

The crew assured me that they would return after re-anchoring to assess the damage and contact the owner. While they were re-anchoring I jumped in my dinghy to check my damage, get some pics of it and run over to their boat to get a pic of the mark on their boat before it could be washed off. I recall the time in Port Suez when I was hit by a delivery captain on a brand new eighty foot stink pot. He simply told me that he had no money and left. The crew did come over, called the owner to whom I spoke and we agreed that I would return to Union Island.

The damage to my bow looked more than superficial. I quickly emptied enough of the forward locker to see all the way to the bow, sure enough I could see daylight. If light can get through then surely so can the sea. I knew this was going to need repair before I could go on, I would find latter just how damaged it was. We picked up anchor for the short sail back to Union. Martin met us in the anchorage, viewed the damage and suggested that he have a local do the repair. I insisted that I inspect the inside of the forward locker for fiberglass damage, which would cost considerably more to repair. After closer exam I did not find that the structure of the boat was damaged, R Phurst is a very strong boat.

The following morning Martin had arranged dockage where the repair could be done and Lorenzo, a young Frenchman that works on repair of the charter fleet, arrived and hopefully we will have repairs finished in a couple of days. Lorenzo showed up the next morning as promised, Martin showed up later to make sure everything was going as planned. The hole was widened to remove all of the broken fiberglass and filler. It appeared the filler had been broken for sometime, but the glass was still intact.

After a few days Lorenzo had the hole covered, a gel coat layer covering all, so we were ready to head out again.

Bequia

Most of the areas down here have a web site to inform tourist of the area. Yes, the best pictures are used. Port Elizabeth and Admiralty Bay are the same place. 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 Carib. Yes, the island is quite small, very hilly and the people are friendly. The locals do not allow the locals to beg, something that is overdone in Kingstown, St Vincent and no one is hustling you constantly. Except when you go into the produce market, run by Rastafarians who use very high pressure techniques to sell you far more than that 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, 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 also a haven for cruisers and charterer as well. With no marina facilities everyone is at anchor. 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 Lucia and Grenada along with three sail lofts for repairs.

You may recall that it was Bequia where I crossed my own path to finish my circumnavigation. Dean, one of the long term cruisers that inhabits Bequia, coincidentally also from MN, was one of the last I saw when I left nine years earlier and he was the first I saw when I returned. He came over to the boat to see if I was still on it, and we talked for awhile when he asked where I had been. When I replied once around the world, he remarked that he was still in Bequia. It was here I met Carole, a Brit woman who works as a nurse on a traditional sailing Barq out of England, the ship takes handicapped passengers for ocean sailing. She needed to meet the ship in Antigua, so we agreed that she would meet me in St Lucia and we would sail to Antigua.

We still had a few days before Rim was to fly out so we sailed to Wallilabou, the bay where much of Pirates of the Caribbean was filmed. He took lots of pictures to show his daughter back home. We spent a couple of days wandering around the film set, and I reconnected with some local friends that live in the area. I do not think Rim was very comfortable around the locals.

When it was time for Rim to leave, we sailed the boat to Kingstown, I needed to provision anyway, so he made arrangements for a taxi early the next morning. After dropping him on shore I moved to Young Island Cut to wait for Arden, my next crew. Once he was aboard we crossed back to Bequia, during which Arden learned a little about steering a sailboat, for a few days before heading north. Once again we stopped at Wallilabou for the tourist visit to the movie site. There I met friends Buddy and Ruth on Annapurna, I had not seen since Thailand. The sailing community is quite small so you keep running into people you have met in other places.
St Vincent to St Lucia

The passage to Sufriere, St Lucia. was a great sail. After spending extra days with cruising friends I have not seen since Thailand, Arden and I did the thirty five mile passage across the Lucia Strait. We set off at 0900 and arrived at 1600. Expecting higher than normal tradewinds I set the sails with one reef before we left. Then followed the coastline of St Vincent to the north end before breaking off the coast into the wind and swell. The sailing was great with winds in the high twenties. we were able to hold a heading higher than we needed and still have a good ride in the six to eight foot seas.

We had one small cloud pass by, bringing winds in the mid thirties and some rain. With that higher wind I was forced to either turn away from the wind to lower its speed or reef during the higher wind. I elected to turn away from the wind, this caused us to loose some of the heading we had been saving for just such a circumstance. All of this passed after about forty minutes and we were right back on course again.

I was surprised that on arrival only one boat boy was trying to sell us anything. They are usually quite overwhelming around Sufreirer and the Pitons, especially wanting to pick up the mooring for you, something I can do myself.

St Lucia is the home to the pitons, twin, ancient, exposed, volcanic cores standing side by side, rising thousands of feet in the air. They really are a grand site. The whole of the area on the southwest side of St Lucia is a marine park, requiring use of moorings. A Park Ranger comes by each evening to collect the fee.

The water at the base of the Pitons is wonderfully clear, the snorkeling great and all in all a nice place to spend a few days. Arden was not one to go walking so he pretty much stayed on the boat. We moved to Sufrierer where Arden would catch a bus to the airport.

The next passage was to Rodney Bay on the northern end of St Lucia, where Carol joined me. We were on short time to get her to Antigua on time to meet the ship she was working on the return to London.

St Lucia to Antigua

I only stopped long enough to sleep in Martinique and Dominica, then arriving Antigua for Carole to meet her ship, Tenacious, and wait for Jill and Chuck. I had a tour of the ship, met the crew and had a grand time.

Again Jill, my niece, and Chuck, her husband, joined me, this time in Antigua. The week always goes way too fast but we make the best of it. We did sail all the way around Antigua, stopping at a few sheltered places, did lots of snorkeling, then dropped them off a mile from the airport before continuing to Jolly Harbor on the west coast of Antigua.

We had a bit of an overlap between the departure of Jill and Chuck the arrival of Jacco and Danielle, a young Dutch couple that would be with me for a few weeks. As they were all about the same age that worked out very well.

As we were sailing around Antigua far ahead in the distance we could see a large super yacht stinkpot turning strange corners, heading different directions, then turning to go yet another direction. The wind was steady from the east at mid teens, the swell was three to five feet, I felt they were training a new driver, or testing some electronics.

The closer we closed on them I could see a much smaller stinkpot running around in the swell. It was then I began to suspect that they were chasing something in the water and when we were about a mile from the big stinkpot I saw the spray from a whale. The second time it sprayed it was apparent it was heading in our direction and away from the stink pots. I assume they were using the small one to herd the whale close enough to the large one that the pampered did not need to get out of their seats to see the whale. These whales swim very slowly, less than ten knots, so the powerboats had no problem keeping up with it.

When it passed within a hundred feet of us we could clearly see the namesake hump of it's back, the small dorsal fin, the white of the pectoral fins, the white underbelly. It was not a huge Humpback whale, only about forty feet, but what a sight. I had been certain that I had seen one, on the distance, on the last move but could not tell the size or species, I thought it was a pilot whale.

We moved the boat to Nonsuch Bay on the east side or Antigua, another of the wonderful sit spots in the Carib, again hidden behind a barrier reef that breaks all of the swell, the bottom is sand, the water clear and warm, the wind uninteruped by any land this is a wonderful place to sit. Now it is filled with kite surfers.

This was also the place where I met Connie, one of the many internet women I talk with, but one of few that actually shows up. She and her sisters were staying at an all inclusive resort and I was able to spend a small amount of time with her.

Shark caper

After Jill and Chuck left we moved to the reef on the south coast of Antigua for some snorkeling. The Dutch kids were snorkeling on the reef and started yelling that they saw a shark. Then they said the shark was in a cage, I thought, oh sure, they just want me to get into the water. When I put on mask and fins, then swam out to see, yes there was a shark in a fish trap. It was just a young nurse shark. I swam back to get the dinghy and a line, we lifted the fish trap, tied it off to the dinghy, dragged it back to the boat, lifted it with the davits, cut a hole in the trap and released a three foot nurse shark, it did not even say thanks. We do have pictures to prove it.

















Diversion to Guadeloupe

I had been talking with fellow cruisers Peter and Eileen from Max Grody on the SSB radio and learned that a Norwegian couple, Ricci and Andreas from Impetus, who were last seen in Thailand were visiting in Guadeloupe. I was so very close I just had to go see them. The day we needed to go to Guadeloupe there was no wind, it was as flat as a mirror. It was so flat that I could see some debris ahead of us and as it got closer it turned out to be two Humpback whales sleeping on the surface, then the always entertaining antics of the dolphins were a delight.

I have not been to Guadeloupe before, other than the small town check in point on the northwest coast. The whole of the north end is solid reef, the French seem to have removed a path so boats can get through to the north coast, where a delightful anchorage is found. We found a bus to take us to where we needed to go, Port de Petre, found the friends and had a great day of catching up over lunch and lots of stories. When it was time for Jacco, Danielle and I to leave there were no more buses so we ended up thumbing a ride back. Danielle as quite pretty and was able to speak some French, so she was a real asset.

The next day we sailed back to Antigua to resume our course north. We intended to go all the way to St Maarten, which was northwest, but first stopped at Barbuda, the sister island to Antigua. Barbuda is off the beaten track, is very sparsely populated, remote, low, has a large saltwater marsh that is filled with birds and has some of the best beaches I have seen in a very long time.

I spent all of one day taking the dinghy seven miles down the coast, then walking five miles to get to the road and finally into town where I could check out, then while walking back a truck stopped and gave me a ride to very nearly where I needed to go. We then moved the boat to the west side of the island to get ready to move to St Maartin. While we were sitting on the west side of Barbuda, fully protected from the easterly wind of the trades, the wind switched to the northwest, did someone tell the wind god that we wanted to go that way. Now we were on a lee shore and it was getting rough, there was nothing to do but sail back to Antigua. Jacco and Danielle left from Antigua.

Trip south from Antigua to Grenada

During the two month trip down island I stopped at pretty much the same places, I had no crew to wait for and being slightly short on time I did not spend as much time at each.

Grenada to Trini

My friends Dawn and Irv always make things welcome in Grenada. My time was spent chasing parts that would be needed later during haulout in Venezuela. I like Grenada, it has most of what cruisers need, the government is not too rigid and while costs are high, no higher than the other islands. There is a regulation that foreigners need to leave the country from time to time. As Irv was building his house in Grenada, the second actually, Ivan took the first, he was way overdue to leave the country. So I suggested that as I was going to Trinidad, he could go with me, have a short sail, be out of the country and satisfy the regulation. He agreed but when I went to check out, the immigration guy spotted the time period and said, I want to see this guy. The interrogation was short and we were soon stamped out of the country.

We were set to leave St Georges just before sundown, Irv was steering, he is a house boater from Canada. I wanted to be away from the island before dark, because the first few miles are over shallow water and the waves can be rather confused, it is better with light. Once we hit deep water the chop ended, the swell began, I put Otto to work and life is good. We had a wonderful passage, even the Mouth of the Dragon was not too bad. We checked into Trinidad and Irv arranged a flight back to Grenada.

I stayed in Trinidad for a few days, picking up more of the stuff that I could not find in Grenada. Even the right size belts for the engines are not easy to find in these places. There are a couple of good stainless welding shops and I made good use of those, even made a new muffler for the compressor engine.

Trini to Los Testigos, then on to Margarita

I have not had two more pleasant back to back passages in some time. I left Trinidad at 1700 on Tuesday 11 July, just before sundown. With the exception of the the Mouth of the Dragon at my exit point from Trinidad, yes it is even called that on the charts. Believe me, the old guys called this one right. The condition is caused by the northflowing, one knot, North Equatorial Current, which sweeps up the coast of South America, dragging the outflow of the Orinoco River north with it. Trinidad is only about fifteen miles off the coast of Venezuela and there are three more small islands of Trinidad located in those fifteen miles like teeth in a dogs mouth. This means that there are narrow gaps between the islands to allow this flow to move. Add to that the easterly trade wind driven waves meeting this flow, a choppy and confused sea is created during slack tide. Add to that the additional change of the tide by the passage of the sun and moon and when all things conspire in the right direction, up to three knots of current, this area is indeed interesting. Five foot standing waves, confused patterns, or not pattern at all, just a continuous lump from every direction all at once. At least it only lasts a few miles into open water.

Once out of this area and just before sundown I was able to set the spinnaker for the ninety five mile passage to Los Testigoes. The local logic is to not pass to closely to the north coast of Venezuela, so the rhumb line is contoured around the land to stay at least ten miles off. After that it was smooth sailing, clear skies full of stars and cool, I even needed to put on a tee shirt. The easterly trades were in fine shape and blowing from the southeast at fifteen to twenty knots, this means low teens when you subtract the boat speed of up to eight knots. While Otto steered, I wandered around, ate continuously, listened to an audio book being read, Third Degree by James Patterson, ate some more, listened to some music, watched for ships and approaching fishing boats, then at 0540 sunrise the Testigos Islands were in sight and right on course. At 0930 the anchor was down and it was time to relax.

I was very tired so I had not planned to do anything strenuous, put away the sailing gear, picked up a book, then spent the day reading, napping, feeding myself and getting a slight sunburn while I napped.

I had planned to do some Leatherback turtle watching while I was here. There were several in the sea on approach. Testigos is a known place where they come ashore to lay their eggs in huge holes they dig in the sand. During previous stops here I have walked the shore and seen the tracks they make, while lumbering up the steep sand piles. The tracks look like giant farm tractor tire tracks.

The place I chose to anchor was not so good. Each day a few local fishing boats would come in to anchor, eat, sleep, play loud music and do the things that young boys often do. I did not feel that this was a good time to leave the boat unattended for extended periods of time. Especially after dark. There will be other times and I will put my boat closer to where other cruising boats are anchored. It really is a shame that trust is something that can not be given outright.

Saturday morning I left Testigos at 0600, set the spinnaker for the forty eight mile passage to Margarita. Again the easterly trades did their thing, perfect conditions, Otto steered, I read and by 1600 I was anchored in Porlamar, Margarita. As I know the guys that have the wireless system I called and was able to hook up at 1700, what a deal.

I will spend a couple weeks here, try to get some dentist and doctor things done here, will also try to ferry across to Cumana to check out the haulout plans. Then move to Cumana in time for the June 15 haulout and the flight back to the states for my 40th HS class reunion.
Family portion

As the family portion will not be so interesting for most of you, I will put that at the end of this letter, you can skip the boring stuff if you wish.

So here I will begin with the September 20 return to the boat.

Work yard

The highlights of the yard were, poor workmanship, a wireless internet that rarely worked properly, some wonderful friends, a litter of puppies to care for and watch grow, a real doozy of a cold, as well as getting my work done, which included the removal and reinstallation of one of the engines so that I could rebuild it and finally launching again.

My worst fear was realized when I returned to the boat, that the boat would not be in the secure yard while I was gone, it wasn’t, but that was also minimized when I discovered that yes, it had been broken into, but it must have been by a very young person. The things that I can see that are missing are my collection of foreign money, an amount of local money, a couple of sweatshirts and long pants, all of my bottles of Rum and all of the lockers were searched. I will not discover all that is missing until I look for something and not be able to find it. If it had been someone else, the outboard motor, radios and electronics would have been gone. I guess this is the least of what could have happened.

This year my to do list was longer than normal partly because the boat has not been out of the water long enough to do much of this work. After two months of dirt, repairs, swearing, sanding, pulling wrenches, painting, spraying and polishing I launched on Tuesday late afternoon. The list included rebuilding one of the diesel engines, remounting the hydraulic steering, regalvanizing all of the ground tackle, repairing the places where large boats felt I had a bullseye painted on me, numerous scratches and dings, repainting the boot stripe, new floorboards for the showers in both heads, replacing most of the running rigging, replacing the dinghy, which then required fitting all of the hardware from the old one, and last anti fouling paint.

I needed to get the damage done by the Scaramouch repaired. Lorenzo had done his best but his skills are best kept for the local fishing boats. I hired a guy, through the yard to do the fiberglass repair. He rarely showed up, when he did it was late, did not do good work and took far too long to do the first half of the work. I am not very good with fiberglass, but after I let the guy go I did the next half of the fiberglass repair, it took me three days, it took the other guy over a week and he did a shitty job. If I am getting a shitty job I could just as well do it and not have to pay the excessive price the yard was charging.

Regalvanizing your ground tackle is one of the jobs that needs to be done from time to time to keep them rust free. As the yard had promised other people that it would have theirs done, but it was still laying in a pile, I did not want to trust them. I called the people in PLC that do this work, they will even come to Cumana to pick up, but are not allowed into the yard. Now I know why the other stuff is still laying in a pile. I walked the yard to see if anyone else had anything they wanted to have done and when the truck arrived we had ground tackle from four boats to load.

Just before I arrived at the yard, one of the dogs had nine puppies, seven are still with us. Marlene and Mike from Drumbeat, the cruiser that had taken on the job of feeding the bitch and caring for the puppies, and her husband have gone to do some land touring, to Merida this time. She was desperate to find someone to take over the care and feeding of the new brood. I am such a soft touch, I do not agree with the whole process, but it does not take alot of time. The best thing that could have happened would have been to kill the pups on the first day. Now they will be fat, sassy, healthy adolescent dogs who no one has taught to hunt or scavenge for food. Within a few months of all of us heading out for the cruising season, these dogs are going to be skinny, sick and a hazard to traffic. I hate to mistreat any animal and this is mistreatment of these puppies. Still, I can not take it upon myself to dispose of them now, or not without agreement from the women that have been caring for family.

Well the dogs are doing fairly well, the pups are fat and healthy looking but clearly are filled with worms, coming out both ends. One of the other cruisers, with dogs, had some deworming pills, for larger dogs, but we broke one into four pieces, and made the puppies swallow the pieces, we shall see what happens. One of the other cruisers checked on the pups later in the day and there were piles of worms on the ground, guess the drugs are working. The result was within a day, the pups are running, playing, rolling on the ground and eating much better. There are only four pups left now, they are walking out the door with the workers now that they are getting larger. It will be difficult to leave them all behind, but I feel these pups will be too large for a good boat dog. Will see later.

I seem to be coming down with a cold, sneezing, runny nose, stuffed up, hope it does not last long.

One evening I was invited to another boat for dinner. It was another single man, Leigh, the Australian owner and builder of his boat Miquerida, another Australian couple, Ann and Keith on Ketchup 2, and myself. We had grilled chicken, it is a mainstay of diets here, lots of wine, which I sampled but brought my own drink, and some veggies to go with it. We had a good meal and great company. I will see more of Leigh in the coming year.

I am putting most of my time into rebuilding the motor I have taken out, tearing it down, cleaning the parts, repairing what needs to be repaired and painting what is left. The lack of tools is the hardest part. Finding a shop to do some of this is not likely.

At one of the mid Sunday afternoon gatherings a few people to play dominos. I have watched a few times but never played before. During the game , Ann, one of the wives asked her husband, Keith, to go back to the boat and get her a drink, what a guy, he went. He was back quickly, angry and broke up the game. Seems she was using water just before the game, but there was none, that is normal. During the game the water came back on, running out of the hose she had left open and was trying to fill the boat with water. They needed to go back and clean up the mess. Details, details, details.

At least my cold seems to be abating some, enough that I am able to keep up with my running nose and I am sneezing less. It will be good to have seen the back side of this. Most drugs have been available over the counter in Venezuela, but that is changing. There have been some government changes that do not allow purchase of everything. Still a Dr visit to get a prescription costs only twenty five dollars, not the sixty to ninty for you. There is little that is needed for the first aid kit. Now chicken soup is always good. With or without lots of pepper. There is no need to worry about sweating while sleeping, it is more how to stop or slow it down.

After the work was all done it was time to splash and head back for Margarita. The downside of that passage is that it is straight into wind and current, so it requires tacking.

Cumana to Margarita

The plan was to get into the water early enough to stop at the marina in Cumana for fuel. With a need to extend my cruising permit, which is allowed for six months on each period, I made repeated trips to the Port Captains’ office over the last couple of days, I finally had the paper in hand, but too late to get down for fuel. Good thing I had picked up enough while I was in the boat yard. Darkness fell as I was leaving the boat yard. When I tried to stop at Cumanagoto Marina, I was waved off by the security guard. As it is not concidered safe to anchor outside of this marina, I continued with the original plan to cross to Punta Araya to anchor for the night. I have been in there before so I was not too concerned about getting into there at night. Everything went well, the rebuilt engine ran the whole way, even at speed. I was very concerned about that.

The following morning I was lifting the anchor by six thirty and heading out. During the cooler hours of night the wind is slightly less, during the peak of heat during the day the wind will strengthen. The passage from Punta Araya to Margarita is only thirty five miles, but when it is into a twenty plus wind and a two knot current, it can be a challenge. I was not even around the corner to turn east before the wind began. It was a great sail, at speeds up to eight knots, even if it was into the wind, nice to have a clean bottom. Tacks of eight miles took me from one side of the channel to the other, the wind building all of the time. It peaked out at thirty three knots apparent. Half way through I needed to reef the sails because of the high wind. My arrival was really pushing hard on daylight, I had about a half hour before sundown when I dropped the anchor.

On arrival in Margarita, with the anchor down, I shut down the engine I had rebuilt hearing a substantial bump when I did. I knew something had fallen off the engine, and was reluctant to open the engine compartment to look. There on the bottom of the bilge lay the freshly painted damper pulley, the one that is supposed to be attached to the front of the engine, it is the one that drives the belts. So, what to do but drag out the tools and bolt it back on again.

I was hoping to find some type of American gathering here for Thanksgiving, but when I questioned that fact on the morning radio net, there were no replies. I guess it was all small private dinners. I had grilled chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, steamed veg and half a can of cranberries, yummy.

I will be here about two weeks. The first crew of the year was supposed to be here now but wrote last week to cancell. The next is due in on Dec 3rd. We will take the first weather window, which should be right away, to make the 435 mile passage to St Martin. We will need to wait to see the wind direction and speed before we choose the route. There is a lonely rock, belongs to Venezuela, in the middle of no place west of Martinique, where I will stop if we can. It is so far from anywhere that it should have some lobster.

Margarita

I have been having all kinds of problems with my computer, just does not want to do the things I ask it to do. Robert on Iwe, who is also the wifi guy in Margarita, try www.wifimargarita.com, is a self done nerd and knows many things, came over to look and said I will need to get the reinstall discs and reinstall my operating system. The problem is that I have a pirated copy of XP Professional. I will try the radio net in the morning, perhaps someone in the anchorage will have them. Without much luck there, I played with the computer and was able to reinstall my old navigational program, so at least we will have one. It does not matter much, I still have the old fashioned way, paper charts. I have never been happy with these electronic charting programs, and perfer to use paper, guess I am a bit old fashioned.

Ken, my crew for the St Martin passage, arrived so I took him into town for a look around, first we needed to find money. Ken is a barrel of laughs, full of stories about his previous lives and is very good company. There are plenty of young guys on the street offering to exchange money. Only a fool would do that, it will always go badly. If they do not short count the money, or run off with yours, they will signal one of thier friends to meet you down the street. I took him to the store where I have done exchange before. The official rate of exchange is 2150 Bs to $1. the street rate varies from 2500 to 2900, which is what we received today.

Ken needed to call home, he has not received a reply to his emails, wanted to buy some gifts and he really does need to see some of the town.I needed to fill the freezer, load on beer and rum, fill all of my containers with fuel and all of the other last minute details before one can leave an anchorage.

I have been trying to answer the last of the questions from Lee Sails, the sailmaker in Hong Kong, for the sails, main and headsail, I am trying to have made. I hope to have them delivered to St Martin, while I am there. Once I get the final price I can wire the money to them and I will feel better about leaving for the passage.

While checking the online weather it is clear that tomorrow is not a good day to leave, Wednesday may be better, Thursday will be much better. So we shall see when this happens. I will check out tomorrow, so we can leave when the conditions are right.

Margarita to St Martin

The 430 mile, four day, three night passage went well. The wind was higher than expected, in the thirty knot range for the first forty hours, but more favorable in direction, much closer to east and sometime a bit south of east, as was hoped, instead of the normal north of east. The seas were as expected for the wind strength, six to ten feet. The wind dropped to the mid twenties and the seas reduced to four to six feet for the rest of the trip. We were always able to hold course and only needed to tack around the first two sets of islands leaving Margarita. The system that had altered the wind also had brought a lot of moisture, so we had intermittent rain during much of the passage and into the first couple of days in St Martin. At least much of the salt sprayed all over the boat has been rinsed off.

We left Margarita at 1500 on Wednesday the 6 December hoping for the wind to be on the beam or aft. That really never happened, but it was not hard on the nose either. All in all it was a good passage. Friends that left Margarita at about the same time, took a higher course to the wind, then stopped at Statia for a rest. We arrived here a day ahead of them. After their arrival I talked with them and they said they were tired of the bashing and crashing and wanted to rest, I needed to agree.

Our original plan was to make a stop at Isla Aves, the bird island, a Venezuelan island 280 miles north of Margarita. It is a small rock, in the middle of nowhere, populated by a couple of Venezuelan coast guard guys and thousands of birds. Given settled weather conditions I think that would be a good place to stop, with the conditions we had I felt it would not be a good anchorage, so we gave it a miss.

The new dinghy that had been purchased in Venezuela, was not exactly the same size as the previous. I did not discover the difference in the size until we tried to load it before leaving. I had noticed a difference in the mounting required and had made that correction while in Cumana and had mounted all of the old hardware. What I did not realize is that the length of the fiberglass portion on the new one was shorter. It did fit the old brackets but was just barely the same size, which allowed the dinghy to pass through center and go below where it should have been supported. This put pressure on the netting below. During our first year out, ten years ago, the same thing happened, during the first inclement weather we found that we could not keep the dinghy hanging from the stern arch, it needed to be in a set of solid brackets. The way we discovered this is that we moved the dinghy to the bow, tied it in as best we could but found that it settled down to the point of putting pressure on the netting, tearing it out. The same thing happened this time. The netting was totally ripped away from it’s lashings and was dragging in the water. That will be one of my jobs while here. The first time the dinghy fell below the boat and was run over, breaking it in half, this time I was able to avoid that.

After the first stormy couple of days everything settled back to normal into the wind sailing. We did not need to do any tacking, but the course was forty five to sixty degrees off the wind, comfortable but no downwind run either. The highest wind was 34 knots, which is not that much for this boat, it can be for unsuspecting crew. Once when we had three reefs in the sails, with wind around mid thirties, I told Ken that I have sailed this boat in 57 knots of wind with the same amount of sail up. That seemed to ease his concern.

Ken was limited help. I had believed that he knew far more than what he did know, which was nearly nothing. On top of that he resented being told things. I do not understand how to convey the information that needs to be known, either you know it or need to be told. It took awhile to just get him to take a watch while I could get some sleep. On the first morning I woke him, after his nine hours in bed, to take a watch, in the next three hours he woke me three times for one reason or another, one of them was legitimate, then said after three hours on watch that he was exhasted, so I stayed up and he went to bed for another six hours of sleep. The second night he did let me sleep nearly five hours. The next day was higher winds that did not allow much sleep. Finally about 0300 the wind had died to a point where I could get some rest, which was until about 0700. It was a restless passage.

When the dinghy bracket failed and I could see the dinghy was down on the netting, I hove to, which is to stop the boat, went to the foredeck to figure out what had happened and to get the netting out of the water, being drenched with each passing wave, Ken stayed in the cockpit, once when I returned for a knife, I mentioned that he might consider giving me a hand, to which he replied that he did not think that I wanted him out of the cockpit. He then came forward to try to help. We did get the dinghy secured as best we could, I guess it was good enough, it rode there the rest of the trip.

On our arrival evening I told him the coffee pot was ready, his coffee cup was out. I wanted him to pick up a book, sit in a corner and read until I woke. At 0630 he was doing laundry in the sink of his head, something that is not allowed in the first place, shaving, cleaning up and getting ready for the day. I got out of bed, put the coffee pot on, started my day, then blew up. I told him that he was being very selfish. I had just done three days with very little sleep, while he had plenty. When I asked him to sit still and be quiet so I could get some sleep he found lots of ways to make noise to wake me. This was not part of my plan. I was pissed.

I am now finding grocery stores, hardware stores, need to find someone that will do the sewing on the trampoline netting, alter the stainless steel brackets that hold up the dinghy, find a bank with an ATM, not that easy to do here, find propane, install some stove parts Ken brought along, then try to do some email and lastly, find some time to relax. I will also gather many of the supplies I need now and others I will need for the next haulout, the chandleries, marine hardware stores, are very good here.

Maggie

While in St Martin I was treated to a visit from an attractive woman that showed some promise for a return. We had exchanged emails a few years ago, then she got married, so that ended that, until recently she wrote to say the marriage did not work and was interested in finding if we have some compatibility. Our earlier exchanges had been very interesting so I was hopeful. She flew in and we spent ten days getting to know one another, did some sailing and looking over things on land. After a good dinner we spent New Years Eve lying on the trampoline watching the fireworks at Phillipsburg, the capital of St Martin, it was a good show. It seemed to go well. The problem is, I find that she is still married, which creates a problem for me, I just do not want to become involved with a married woman. We shall see how that works out. Some of the internet women have admitted to still being married, others I have suspected. As it turns out, she will not be returning.

This brings 2006 to an end.

Family

The reason for my return was that I emotionally wanted to reconnect with family and friends left behind and not seen for five years. The excuse used was my 40th high school class reunion. After making arrangements for RPhurst to be securely stored in the security area of Navimca Boat Yard in Cumana, Venezuela and air arrangements to fly round trip to Miami, I was ready to go. As I knew I would be doing a cross country trip to see everyone it made no sense to fly round trip into Minneapolis. It really is not that far from Caracas, Venezuela to America, a three and a half hour flight and I was there.

The plan was to spend three months in the states, three weeks in TRFalls, three weeks in Minneapolis, a couple of weeks in WI, a couple of weeks in Denver, a long week in LA, then back to FL for the return flight, all of which was not nearly long enough, but there you are. Being able to move around easily without a car, or a valid driver’s license, is not easy. I had made arrangements for Leslie to be pick me up at the Miami airport and we drove to Jacksonville, seeing some sights along the way, including the Kennedy Space Center and St Augustine. Once in Jacksonville I had a couple of relaxing days with a friend before flying into Minneapolis where I was picked up by my niece Jill and her husband Chuck. In company with another niece Rebecca, her husband Brandon and Josie the fur ball, we departed right away for the three hundred mile drive to my brother Ken’s home near my home town of Thief River Falls, MN. Well, we did need to make a stop in Little Falls to pick up some of Ken’s favorite sausage.

I had asked my brother to try to plan a family gathering for the first weekend, which was why the nieces were driving up in the first place, see how conniving I can be. We had a great cookout, with lots of pictures, great food and having the chance to reconnect. The cookout was also attended by my sister Nancy and her husband Tom Issendorf as well as her daughter Amy and kids. A great time was had by all. I was also able to get onto the internet to begin ordering parts I wanted to take back with me.

The following week I would go into town with Ken as he was going to work, then I would have the day to stop and see some of the people important to see and the following weekend was the reunion. For that I stayed at my sister’s house in town, it was just so much easier. Friday was the informal gathering at one of the local favorite bars. There were lots of happy faces, lots of talk and reminiscing, lots of trying to remember names of all those old people that resemble old friends. It is difficult to imagine how some of these people have aged, while I have kept my youth. The mind is a shame to waste. Saturday evening was a slightly more formal gathering, with dinner and a short presentation. I was asked to give a short talk detailing what I have done during the past ten years. The news of my shenanigans spread quickly so it seemed that most of my conversations were about me, instead of me learning what they have been doing. We graduated 211, Friday was attended by about sixty and Saturday about seventy, not all the same, so I was happy with the attendance and I saw most of the people that were on my must see list. Ken was in his last year of working for the railroad and was looking forward to retirement in January after 37 years of hard work and a couple of major moves.

I was pressed to fit in all of my friends, but the ones that must be seen are Rick and Kathy Nelson, Tom and Paula Greelis, and Don and Paula Adamson. Unfortunately I did not get to see the Adamsons, but everyone else was found and reconnected.
Ken’s family had planned a gathering in Minneapolis to celebrate Becca’s B-day for early July so I had a ride down there. The girls had arranged for a pontoon for a few hours tour of the Lake Minnetonka. The two sisters had spent part of the day decorating it for the party. Jean was invited and it was wonderful to see her. We all ate and drank while on the boat and then retired to a bar for more drinks and food. During the entire time I was there I was overfed and over watered, it seems that food and drink are part of our culture, which is why I gained twenty five pounds while I was there.

They left me at my friend Carole’s house. She has been a constant in my life during the whole time I have been on this trip. In all of the places I stayed I asked for a list of things that could be done around the house, partly to give me something to do during the day, but also to make a small contribution to my room and board. I understand that fish and houseguests get old after about a week, so if I can stay out of the way, do some work and sometimes have meals on the table, I may be welcome a bit longer than that. It was during this time that I met Sandy, an internet woman, that seemed very excited about joining me. We made plans, stayed in touch by email and four days before her arrival she cancelled. Life should not be this difficult.
Keith Mackenroth is certainly on my must see list while in Mpls. We had exchanged a few emails and had planned to get a few people together while I was there. I knew that he would not be going to the reunion, he has not been to any of them, but he keeps in touch with many home town people that live in the area. We were able to find several evenings to get together.

Another project that I needed to do while I was in the twin cities was to get my old sailing catamaran ready to move up to Kens. When Jean and I left on this trip the plan was to be gone about five years. I left a 27 foot sailing boat in the yard of a long term friend, John Nelson. Well things can get out of hand and it has now been ten years. The boat needed to get out of the weather and must be an irritation to John. Having been sitting for so long I knew it would need new tires, tubes and bearings all around, it did. At last it was ready to go and I hauled it back to Carole’s house with the plan to have one of the nieces’ husband take it up to Ken’s before snowfall. Well it was a good plan but Ma intervened and made it snow way too early. It did make the trip later without incident.

While in WI I also needed to see another old friend, Cindy James. We spent a few days relaxing around Lake Geneva before my heading toward Oshkosh by bus. Two of my best friends live in Neenah WI and also are on my must see list while I am back there. I met them while I spent three years working in the area. Tom and Jean Harvath as well as Jeff Syring, with new wife Margie, have been with me during some wild times and we have also spent lots of time at each others homes for layed back times. With difficulty we were able to make contact and a plan to pick me up at the bus terminal in Oshkosh, yeah the place where denim clothes are made. Tom picked me up and we met Jeff, Margie and later Mike Schnieder then went to a national gathering of pyrotechnics. The fireworks show broke a couple of records, most firecrackers in a ten minute timeframe, something about a few million and the largest string of firecrackers. It also included an aerial show that was outstanding. This is the organization to which practicing pyrotechnics belong and they get together in different locations to exchange ideas and new technology. I then split my time between their houses. One evening we stopped at my old watering hole, it was not the same, it wasn’t a grand place then, now it is a dive.

The next two stops did not turn out very well. I was supposed to meet an internet woman at each, the first had about two hours for me and the other did not appear very interested either. Some of these women will not make the step to join me for a short period of time, so if I am to meet them it will need to be when I am back there. This is such a difficult process I am about to give up, it is not worth the effort.
The next stop was Denver. I had high hopes of seeing my son Jim while I was there. I am told that he does not have email and the number I have goes to an answering machine. As I am rarely at a place where I can receive a call, that is difficult at best. While in MN I began calling him and leaving the number where he could call back, he never did. A family cookout seemed to be the best idea, so we planned one at my cousin Jans' and invited him on his answering machine and he was available to join us as well as cousins Val Duggan and Sherry Netteland. It was great to see him and all of the family again. The time I spent in Denver was split between an Aunt Bernie Netteland, the last remaining of her family and my cousin Janet Brookhart along with her husband Scott. I had a great time while I was in Denver.

Then it was time to press onto Los Angles to see my dad’s widow, Claudette Parnham and her daughter Jackie Duperon and her husband Robert. I enjoy their company and have stayed in touch with this extended family over the years and since my dad’s death in ’98 have made an effort to keep it that way. They live way out in the burbs, Robert works right next to LAX and drives 80 miles to and from work each day, in that traffic, I could not do that day after day. We spent a very relaxing time, again doing some home projects and trying to be helpful.

The time for the flight back to FL had come and I was able to spend a few days with a friend before heading for Miami for the return flight to Caracas. It was a wonderful visit, filled with friends and family so sorely missed over the years. Now to get back to the boat and the work that is needed before the next cruising season.

As normal, if you do not wish to see these, let me know and I will remove you from the list. If you enjoy them, let me know, worldcruiser1997@yahoo.com

2005 Barbados, Caribbean, Venezuela, Trinidad and Tobago

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